#fuck that good soldier bullshit.
Text
If you need proof that you can make anything — yes, even early 2010s Nicki Minaj verses — supremely unsettling and deeply scary if you write it the right way, look no further than The Militia House by John Milas.
#in which i read#the militia house#john milas#sometimes reading a book isn't enough; i need to shred it with my teeth and ingest it#i mean it's gonna live rent-free in my head from this day on i might as well eat it and seal the deal!#but holy shit. HOLY SHIT#i had a little chuckle at the beginning when i saw the two epigraphs were#1) quote from former us soldier in afghanistan (which i expected)#2) nicki minaj's verse on ''fuck the bullshit'' (which i did NOT)#and i was like ''okay i'm intrigued let's see what the connection is''#and it's a slow burn! but it gets there eventually and good GOD#i can't say anything because that would involve spoilers BUT#i love. a good creeping sense of Wrongness in horror fiction#that just Builds until it's impossible to write off or ignore#also it's tricky for me to get invested in 1st person pov fiction unless the author REALLY puts in the work#of making me feel like i truly am inside a different person's head and thinking in a different pattern#and this deLIVERED
1 note
·
View note
Text
28 / 1.7k / soap soulmate au, part 5
...
Soap stares at his name where it's inked across your skin. You should be his enemy. He's sitting across from you, your interrogator in this dimly lit weapons closet. You refuse to look at him. But his gaze bores into you anyway, intense on your eyes, your lips, the cuts and bruises on your face. He wants you. But he can only have you once you've given him the information Captain Price needs.
"Tell me where Alejandro is," he says. "That's all you need to do."
A muscle in your jaw twitches when he mentions Graves' name, but you bite your tongue. You won't let him shake your resolve like he did in Las Almas. You should've killed him on sight.
"What Graves is doing to Alejandro--you know it's wrong." Soap’s gaze is steady. You're so close. He wants you so badly it hurts. "He's not a good man.”
"You have no idea what kind of man he is," you say.
"I know exactly the kind of man he is," he growls. "I saw what he did to the people in Las Almas. He called them dirty cops and had them executed when they said they didn't know anything. Innocent people. In front of their families. Their children." Soap's hands curl into fists on the table between you. "He's not the kind of man who deserves your loyalty."
Your cuffs clink as your arms flex against the chair. "You wouldn't understand."
"You're right. I wouldn't." Soap's knuckles pop, his voice low and dark. All his life he's waited for you. Now Graves--fucking Graves, who betrayed Soap and his team and tried to murder them all--is somehow the one keeping you from him. "I don't understand what you see in that bastard."
You say nothing, eyes trained on the far wall.
Soap's shoulders tighten. "You're just a tool to him."
"I’m a soldier. I choose to follow orders. So do you.”
"You're following his orders. You think that makes you a soldier, being a weapon? No. Makes you a damn dog."
You say nothing.
Soap grips the table until it creaks. "You think he cares about you.”
"It doesn't matter if he does or not."
"It does so bloody matter. You’re no’ some pawn he can just throw away." God damn you. He wants to grab you with both hands and shake you. To hell with this interrogation--he's got half a mind to lock you down somewhere padded until you get it through your skull that you're not worthless. He scowls at you. "You're better than this. You have to be."
Cold irritation seeps through your mask. "Am I?" Soulmate or not, he doesn’t know you.
At the look on your face, Soap's scowl deepens. He's going to kill that bastard, and he's going to do it slowly. "What about Graves is more important to you than the innocent lives he took? Does that mean nothing to you?”
"Orders are orders."
Soap's voice drops to a dangerous pitch. "Look me in the eye and say that.”
You don’t. You tell yourself it’s because he has no power over you. He can’t tell you what to do.
Soap crosses his arms. "'S what I thought. You're bluffing."
"I'm not."
"Bullshit. Graves is nothing but Shepherd's lapdog. Gettin’ paid to commit goddamn war crimes.”
"Shut your mouth," you snap. "You have no idea what happened--"
You stumble on the next syllable and go silent, realizing suddenly that you're looking him in the eye.
Johnny's a man of impulse, and it takes all the self-control he has to keep himself in place the moment you lock eyes. The pull he feels to you right now is overwhelming. You're in reach. He leans forward. Those brilliant blue eyes of his see all the way down into your soul. They’re just the same as you remember--eerily vivid, pupils blown, with his jaw set hard.
"What happened to what, darlin'?"
You shift, skin prickling. You want to cross your arms over yourself and clap your hand over the soulmark on your neck. "You don't know what happened in Al Mazrah."
"You were ambushed."
You nod, remembering that night of the mission. You've seen your squadmates die before. It's a hazard of the job, part of being a mercenary. But that night--seeing so many Shadows gunned down before they could so much as draw their weapons--it still haunts you.
"Shepard didn't know. It wasn't like we-- it was supposed to be a simple transport mission."
"It was a black bag op."
"That's what Shadows do. We take missions people don't like. Someone has to step in where you military dogs won't."
"Where was Shepherd when it went tits up, hm?" Soap's lip curls. "No air support on an illegal op. He left you to be killed. And now he needs someone to blame. It's not gonna be him taking that bullet. It's gonna be you."
"Captain Graves can handle it."
Soap lets out a rough sigh. Your insistence on Graves is rubbing him raw. You could have died on that op two months ago. And then what? He'd have never met you, only found your name later in stone on some memorial somewhere. The thought makes his chest go cold and his blood run hot. It could still happen. If he can't tear you away from this bloody mercenary work, you'll never be his. Christ. He can't let that happen. He won't. You're not going back to the Shadow Company. He'll tear Graves into pieces before he lets that happen.
He fixates on your soulmark again. Why can't he focus on getting the information Price needs? All he can think about right now is the scab on your lip, the way your pupils dilate when you look at him. Your body wants his even as you're spitting venom. The fire in you matches his own, and he wants more.
"Graves isn't here," Soap tells you. "And I'm not takin’ chances. You’re not going back to Shepherd, and you’re sure as hell not going back to Graves. You're mine."
You pull on your cuffs, hating the way the possessive note in his voice makes your stomach flip. "You don't get to decide that."
"Neither do you.”
"Isn't a matter of choice. It's a matter of what you’re gonnae do about it."
You swallow and watch his gaze track down your throat. He's close. When did he lean in? Why aren't you pulling back?
No, you tell yourself, you’re not scared. You’re in control. You lean a millimeter closer. "You can't keep me here."
His eyes brighten, gaze so intense it warms your skin. "Careful, darlin'. You don't want to throw down that gauntlet."
"And you expect me to tell you whatever you want to know? Fuck my career, fuck my squadmates?"
"If you weren't so damn dense, I'd--" He mutters another string of curses in that thick Scottish accent, standing from his chair and pacing the tight room. "You don't understand what I'm offerin’. You don't need them. You have me an' mine."
He circles around to your side of the interrogation table and kneels next to you, his expression an open plea for you to listen. You stare down at him with your heart suddenly in your throat. You can't backpedal. You can't look away.
He searches your face. Even roughed up, even pissing him off, you're beautiful. Damn it, he's going to do something stupid if he doesn't control himself.
He keeps his voice low and even. "You were expendable to them. You're expendable to Graves. You're no' expendable to me." He reaches up to you, and you go still. His hand is hot on your skin. His grip is surely strong enough to break bone. But only his thumb drags along your lip. His eyes follow the motion. "Your loyalty should be for people who care about you. I'm on your side, ya wee shite. Just tell me how to get to Alejandro and I'll get you out of here. I'll make sure you're safe. That's all I need to know."
You stare down at him. Your heart beats in your ears, and his pulse hammers with yours. You can feel it through his thumb against the sensitive skin on your lower lip.
Johnny wants you so badly you almost give in. He thinks he's telling the truth--that he'll protect you. But he doesn't know any better. You're not who he wants you to be. You're not soft. You're not good. Why does he act like he can see something redeemable in you?
Being his soulmate doesn't guarantee you a goddamn thing. Promises don't afford you any more protection than you've already given yourself. You know that very well. People aren't reliable. Soulmarks don’t fix everything. They’re just ink.
Whatever he sees when he looks up at you makes something cold and sharp settle in his chest. His throat constricts. He's pushing, he knows he is, and it's the wrong move with you. He's never been this desperate for anyone.
"Darlin'. Don't do that. Don't shut me out." His voice wavers just like his resolve. He'd protect you to his last. You refuse to see that, and he can't make you.
You look away, pulling away from his hand. "I don't trust you."
Johnny's stomach drops, and he digs his fingers into the metal chair to stop himself from digging them into you.
You want him. He can see it in the set of your shoulders, how tight you hold yourself when he's close to you. You want him despite yourself, and you still refuse. It doesn't matter how rational a decision it should be to accept his help. There's something else happening in your head that's keeping your walls up, and he's starting to realize it's not just Graves. It can't be.
He watches you for a long moment. He doesn't want you to hurt, but he's not stupid enough to believe you'll soften up and come around with time. You're a soldier.
Finally, Soap stands. If you don’t tell him what he needs to know, you’ll remain a hostage, and won’t be able to have you. He won’t accept that.
"Fine," he says, pushing his way out the door. "We’ll do this the hard way."
...
part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / [part 5] / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10
more Soap / masterlist tag
#soulmate soap#mine#story#soulmate au#fem reader#john soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish#soap cod#johnny mactavish#soap mactavish#soap x reader#x reader#soap x you#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x you#cod#cod x reader#call of duty#call of duty x reader#cod mw2#cod mwii#tf 141#tf 141 x reader
858 notes
·
View notes
Text
Let Them Know Who You Belong To
Simon “Ghost” Riley x f! Reader
Summary: You and Ghost had been having a secret situationship for a couple of months now. Lately, though, he had grown possessive over you, getting jealous at any interaction you had with the other soldiers in the base. And it was time he taught you a lesson about who you belonged to.
Warning: nsfw, jealous! simon riley, possessive! simon riley, unprotected sex, p in v sex, shower sex, established relationship, praise kink, dom! simon riley, bratty! reader, claiming, rough sex, smut with little plot, degradation kink, manhandling, not proofread
A/N: so that price fanfic did pretty damn well ;) and I thought I’d try my hand again at writing a smutty fic for simon cus I’m down bad for him. Promise this one will be shorter… hopefully… enjoy!!!
For the last couple of months, you and Ghost had been exclusively fucking each other. Ever since you gathered the courage to fess up your little crush and horny fantasies to him, he’d been kindly fucking your brains out every time you asked (sometimes you didn’t even have to).
But of course, a man like Ghost wouldn’t settle down for anyone, certainly not you; he wasn’t your boyfriend, he was just someone that thoroughly enjoyed using you like his personal whore. The two of you had set that boundary very early on and it had been working out since for both.
Which is precisely why Ghost was conflicted about his current feelings as he watched you swoon with one of the men in the base. He watched you from a safe distance, watched as you were cornered against the wall by some guy way below your league, he thought. You were too fine a woman to stand there listening to some average guy’s rambling. Still he watched you giggle at whatever he was saying, batting your eyelashes at him, nudging his arm when he made you laugh.
As he watched you his stomach recoiled, his gloved fist clenched and jaw gritted under his mask. What the fuck could this daft bastard be saying that’s making you laugh so hard?
You caught a glimpse of Ghost in the opposite end of the hallway, leaning against the wall with his eyes burning a hole through you. You looked at him through your peripheral vision, shooting him a devilish smirk because you knew it was getting under his skin that you were entertaining another bloke. Truth be told, you weren’t even listening to what this guy was saying; a lot of words and a whole lot of nothing. Regardless, you made a performance for him, laughing and touching the man’s muscled arm as if he was the most riveting man you had come across, all because you loved seeing Ghost’s panties get in a twist. You loved it when he became possessive of you, when he’d get all worked up and reminded you that you were exclusively, his despite there being nothing between the two of you except amazing sex.
He pushed himself off the wall, mumbling curses to himself as he turned away and left. He knew your smirk was directed at him, knew you were riling him up on purpose because he fucked you so good when you made him angry. What a slut you were.
Later that day, you waited for everyone else to hit the showers before you did. You liked having the whole communal space to yourself, so you were always last to take your time and enjoy the privacy. You hadn’t seen Ghost the whole day after that little performance. He must be sulking somewhere and waiting for you to come to him. But you decided you’d let it simmer, leave it for the next day.
You turned on the shower, letting it warm up as you stripped naked and stepped in once it was at a comfortable temperature. You saturated your body and hair, closing your eyes as the water ran down your head and face, enjoying the sensation of it, your tense muscles relaxing. You were blissfully unaware of your surroundings, unwinding from a long day of bullshit from your superiors.
Ghost had spent the whole day scheming about how he’d get back at you for your little antics. He knew your nightly routine of being the very last one to shower. So, he waited for you to enter the shower and he followed close behind you. He snuck inside the shower room, stealthily creeping in without you having a clue. As he faced the shower curtain, he stepped out of his boots, stripping silently and creeping on you covering your naked body in soap suds.
You were facing the shower, eyes still closed, running your soapy washcloth along your body mindlessly. Suddenly, you heard the sound of the shower curtain being ripped open, the sound of metal rings clanking on the bar and rustled plastic. You jumped, shooting your eyes open and looking behind you to find Ghost there.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Ghost!” You scolded, keeping a whisper to not alert anyone outside the shower room.
He was standing there naked with the exception of his mask still on but rolled up to his nose. His eyes matched the scowl plastered on his lips; he was proper pissed.
“What, did you think I’d let you get away with that little show you put on for me today?” He growled, stepping into the shower with you.
“Wha— Simon, you’re not supposed to be here!” You ignored his question, genuinely concerned about his intrusion and the possibility of someone coming in. You knew he’d show up to put you in your place but didn’t anticipate it to be at a place like this.
“I asked you a question,” he insisted, grabbing your waist and turning you around to face him. He held your body close to his with a hand wrapped around your waist; you could feel his cock pressed stiff against your abdomen.
You gulped, looking up into his deep brown eyes; they were dark with anger and lust, couldn’t tell which it was more of. You looked at him like a deer in headlights.
“Answer me,” he said through gritted teeth, his grip on your waist tightening. His other hand flew to grasp your jaw, holding it tightly not letting you even try to look away from him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, looking at him with a smug expression, a twinge of a smirk curling at the corners of your mouth. He murmured a curse as his grip on your jaw slid down to your neck, holding it firmly.
“Don’t play with me, sweetheart. You know what you did wrong today… and you know the consequences of fuckin’ with me”
In a swift movement, he spun you around, making you face the wall again. You caught yourself from falling by holding your arms out against the wall. You felt one of his hands on your abdomen, keeping you pressed against his body, ass flush with his cock. The other hand entwined in the crown of your head, grasping and pulling your wet hair.
The way he held you drew a whimper from your lips. Your head fell back as he pulled your hair, and you felt his lips against your ear, his hot breath on your skin.
“You enjoy me punishing you, huh, you little slut?” He whispered, his words like poison seething out of his lips.
You responded with just another whimper. “Y-yes” was all you could muster.
“Yes, what? Address your superiors, soldier”
“Yes, sir”
You heard a pleased sound rumble in his throat, then felt his breath on your neck followed by the sensation of his teeth nipping at the tender skin on your neck, making you yelp.
“S-Simon…” You pleaded.
The hand that wasn’t gripping your hair migrated behind you, his palm colliding loudly against your ass, making you jump and whimper at the burning sensation of Ghost’s large hand smacking your asscheek red.
“That’s ‘sir’ to you, sweetheart,” he said, his hand on your ass squeezing and soothing the sensitive flesh.
“ ‘m gonna teach you how to behave, how to be a good girl for me…and everyone in this base is gonna hear it, understood?”
Your face turned bright red and hot. You nodded as best as you could with Ghost’s unrelenting grip on your hair still. “That’s my good slut,” he whispered.
Ghost released your hair, both of his hands sliding to the front of your torso. The two calloused hands moved to squeeze your breasts possessively. His mouth was on the crook of your neck, giving the skin a primal bite, then soothing it with a few tender kisses. You moaned at the sensation.
His fingers toyed with your nipples, pinching them and pulling them up, both simultaneously in synchronicity. He alternated between doing so and massaging the soft sacks. You turned to face him, to try and manage to kiss him. But he pulled away, the clasps on your nipples stilling as he tugged them in a punishing manner. You winced in pleasure.
“Uh-uh, you don’t deserve that,” he mocked you.
Ghost moved his hands up to your shoulders, pushing your torso forward. If it hadn’t been for your hands on the wall you would’ve face planted the tile in front of you with the force of his movements. Now your back was arched, torso leaned forward, and ass presented for him.
He caressed his hands down your back, the gesture felt condescending given how he was treating you. They stopped at your ass cheeks, squeezing them once more. Then, you felt the sting of his hand striking the right one, then the left one. He did that a couple more times, alternating between the two cheeks. You moaned and winced at the mix of pain and pleasure.
“S-sir, please,” you began.
“Please, what? Use your words.
“Just fuck me already, please!”
“Fuck you? I said I’d punish you, love. Good girls get fucked; dirty sluts like you get punished”
As he squeezed your ass he spread both of your cheeks, revealing your slick cunt to him.
“Look at you, your pussy’s glistening f’me. You like me treatin’ you like this, huh?” He chuckled maliciously. You felt two of his thick fingers run up and down the folds of your cunt; you moaned in response.
Ghost slid the two digits inside of you at a painfully slow pace. “Fuckkk, you swallowed them whole, sweetheart, this pussy’s so desperate to be fucked. Too bad ‘m gonna take my sweet time torturing you”
You let out a moan at the intrusion inside of you, then at the feeling of his fingers sliding in and out oh so slowly. It was driving you crazy, you just wanted him to ram them into you quick and replace them with his cock already.
“Please, sir, I’ll be good I promise, please just move faster” you sobbed.
“I don’t take orders from you, love” his fingers curled inside your walls, making you jolt at the tight feeling. His other hand kneaded at your ass while he stroked his fingers in an out of you, pace not picking up, and curling them up deep inside of you.
His cock was throbbing at the sight of his fingers entering and exiting you, at how good you looked begging for him to fuck you with your cheeks spread for him like this.
He pumped his fingers in and out, pulling moans out of you. You kept yourself still trying not to push your ass back to fuck yourself on his fingers. You tried your best to be a good girl for him like he ordered; you were just so obedient.
“See? You can be such a good girl for me. Good job princess,” he praised you, “you earned yourself this…”
Ghost reached his other hand around you, settling it between your legs at the front of your pussy, using his index and middle finger to circle your swollen clit. Now he was picking up the pace of the fingers fucking you as well as the two rubbing your sensitive bud. You basked in the feeling, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let out a breathless moan.
Your legs spread apart to allow him more access to toy your pussy. Your eyes closed as you relished the way he rewarded you.
“Th-thank you, sir” you moaned.
Ghost chuckled “You like that, baby? You like me rewarding you? See how good I can make my girl feel?”
His girl, you thought. You were his girl, you belonged to him. He knew the right ways to touch you, knew his way around your body; how to please you, how to torture you. You bit your lip at the thought and responded with a hum.
He fucked you with his fingers and played with your clit some more, feeling your walls clench around him, indicating that you were close to cumming.
You were a mess of moans and whimpers at this point, mouth agape, letting them fall out of it. Your eyes in the back of your skull and your head thrown back, back arched to the limit. You felt his fingers twist and curl into your pussy, drilling into you, his speed had picked up significantly; that mixed with the pressure on your throbbing clit sent you over the edge.
And soon enough, you were releasing choked out moans, pussy spasming around his fingers as you were getting ready to cum. A wave of pleasure was surging in you and you were eager to let it wash over you.
But Ghost had other plans, so he took his hands away from you, now gripping your hips. You practically sobbed.
“N-no, no, no, Simon— sir, please! Please, please, let me cum I’m so close, please!” You were crying at this point, looking back at Ghost with pleading eyes. You met his face that wore an evil smirk, his eyes dark with malice.
“That’s a good fucking girl. You’re so pretty when you beg for me to let you cum.” He chuckled, his hands massaging your hips, holding them tightly.
“You’re not gonna cum until I do, lovie” he said, aligning the painfully swollen head of his cock with your desperate cunt. He relentlessly slammed his cock inside of you, making you cry out in pain and pleasure. He was so rough but you were yearning to be filled by his massive member. He let out a primal groan when he felt your warm walls clasp his dick inside of you.
“ ‘m gonna fuck you senseless now, alright? That fucker you were giggling with would never fuck you this good, would he, princess?”
“No! Never, never like you, sir! No one’s as good as you!” You moaned, your walls clenched around his motionless cock to give yourself some relief. Then, you felt Ghost slowly pull out entirely, before ramming his dick back inside of you, making you cry out.
He pounded into you, slowly but firmly and deep. His grip on your hips was bruising as he slammed himself inside of you. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin was louder than the sound of the water hitting the tiles. You moaned consumed by euphoria.
Ghost held your hip with one hand while the other slithered to the back of your neck, holding it to make himself slam into you impossibly deeper and harsher. Your tender ass cheeks were growing redder from his skin slapping against them. His pace was quick and rough, groans and curses falling from his lips.
“You’re fuckin’ mine, ya hear me? My girl, my pussy to fuck. This cunt belongs to me…only for my cock”
You responded with a string of moans and yeses, too cockdrunk and out of it to say any proper responses. Your climax was creeping up on you once again; the wave rising.
Then, you felt Ghost maneuver your body, twisting your torso slightly to the side, and lifting one of your legs by your thigh. You were now almost on your side, the leg in his grasp opening your cunt better for him, and you were standing on your other leg with some leverage from your arm on the wall. If it wasn’t for Ghost holding most of your bodyweight, you would’ve toppled over.
This new angle made him penetrate you deeper, opening yourself up for him. And now you could see behind you, him standing there thrusting deeply into you, huffing like an animal as he fucked you silly.
He was a sight to behold; muscles coated in water and sweat, glistening with droplets of water running down his body, his lips parted and juicy, practically drooling for you, and his eyes devoured you.
“There’s my girl, that face is so fuckin’ pretty,” he said as he thrust into you quickly and deeply
“Love how deep I am in your pussy…gonna make me cum soon… ‘m gonna cum in your pussy so you know it’s mine.”
“Gh-Ghost, ahh, I wanna cum, please” you moaned, tears running down your face.
“Cum for me, baby, you have permission. Say my fucking name, make sure everyone hears you.” He said breathlessly, possessively, with a hint of sweetness. “Make sure everyone knows who fucks you this good, who you belong to.”
And that you did. You moaned “Simon” loudly, practically screaming his name. You repeated it over and over like a chant as you came undone on his cock. You clenched around him, legs shaking as you came and sobbed out his name. Your body went limp as Ghost held you, fucking you and using you to attain his own climax.
His hips shook, thrusts faltering as he released hot, sticky ropes of cum that pooled within you. You moaned in unison as you felt him flood your pussy. He cursed under his breath, his thighs shaking as he came down from his high.
He held your tired body and accommodated you, helping you stand. You both panted in the shower. Cum was dripping down your leg and Ghost helped your rinse it away since you were too drained to even move. You were trying to catch your breath, legs wobbly and your pussy abused.
He loved the sight of you all fucked out like this. And you loved how he took care of you after fucking you like this. You turned to face him, using his shoulders to support yourself, and looked into his eyes; a tired smile on your lips.
“Do I deserve a kiss now?” You said innocently.
Ghost scoffed, unable to help how the corners of his lips curled. He cupped your face with one hand and leaned in to kiss you. He was hungry for it, definitely wanting to kiss you this whole time but holding back to drive his point home. You kissed him with as much pleasure and desire, humming into his mouth.
“You’re fuckin’ mine, ya hear me? Don’t wanna see you do that again” He scolded you in a whisper against your lips.
You let out an impish giggle, “I just love riling you up. But I’m all yours, Si.”
A/N: I’m sorry!!! It’s long as fuck again!!! But I tried!!! Anyways >:( hope you loved it you rascals <3
#call of duty mwii#cod mw2#ghost mw2#ghost riley#simon ghost riley#fanfic#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x you#ghost riley smut#smut#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost Riley x female reader#simon riley x female reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Captain Price comes across a video that wasn’t supposed to be posted on any kind of social media under any circumstances. How it made it onto the platform, how he ended upon it. You don’t know.
He assumes the video was your idea, considering you seem to be the star of the show, despite the other girls around you. Which is why he’s standing along the edge of the muddy track that you’ve been running laps around for almost an hour. “You know, this is bullshit!” You yell out to him as you pass by. “You’re the one who thought the video would be a good idea!” He calls back, crossing his arms. He’s amused. “Soap and Gaz post thirst traps all day and I shake my ass to Sage the Gemini ONE TIME!” You yell back. He has to hold back his laughter, being a captain is so fucking hard when your soldiers are this immature. “Another lap Y/L/N!”
He thinks to himself for a second.
“You’re so dead Y/N.” Soap stares daggers your way. He’s sweaty, now running alongside you. “I didn’t know he’d make you run laps with me!” You scoff. “Yeah, you’ve got no room to talk either, mate. You’re the one who posted the video, remember?” Gaz smirks, he’s on the other side of you. “Asshole!” You shove Soap. He barely catches himself. He can’t help but laugh, forgetting completely that he’d done that.
“One more lap and than head back to your rooms!”
#call of duty mw2#cod mw2#soap mw2#captain john price#price mw2#captain price#johnny soap mactavish#gaz mw2#mini talks
459 notes
·
View notes
Text
Warnings: afab! fem reader, spanking, dacryphilia, squirting, hair pulling, tiny bit of degredation? Bratty reader
“Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it, Captain?”
You cross your arms and look up at Price during a briefing, standing as if you were taller than him. You had strongly disagreed with a decision he made for a future mission and the rest of the Task Force was staring at you in awe of your sudden assertiveness and attitude towards your superior.
He wanted to go in to take down the Shadow Company and rip them apart from the inside out, sending you in first as bait, and you had argued that would be too obvious something was up. You proposed infiltration would be better, stealthier, and you would go in first and have Gaz lead you around base through the cams until safe for the others to sneak in too.
But Price was not having it with your disagreement and sassy attitude like a spoiled teenager arguing with her dad for not getting something she wants.
“I’m not letting you go in with risk of being caught and killed. Graves is a narcissist, going against him is dangerous. Much easier to pretend you come in peace, alone. It would boost his damned ego.” Price says.
“He’s not fucking stupid. He fooled us all. Only someone as equally dense as him would think that’s a good plan.” You snap back at him.
The 141 stare at you, scared for what Price is gonna say next. His eyebrows raise in disbelief at your insult, and he steps closer, slowly and carefully to you.
“Watch your tongue soldier.” He growls at you through clenched teeth.
And that’s how you got here, looking up at him asking what he’s gonna do about it.
He then grabs you by the back of your neck, spinning you around and pushing you towards the door which he slams open with his free palm, leaving the rest of the team watching in shock at what the hell just happened, and even more so the cliffhanger of not knowing what is going to happen.
Price shoves you into his office, slamming the door behind him and pushing you towards his desk, stumbling over your feet.
“Gonna teach you some fucking manners. What the fuck’s runnin’ through that stubborn little mind of yours that’s got you thinkin’ you can talk to me that way?” He says, caging you in between him and the desk making you lean back while he places his palms on either side of you. His voice dripping with anger.
You don’t break and continue your arguing with him.
“Well maybe if you talked to me before making me the center of some bullshit plan then I’d have some respect for your decisions.” You spit back at him.
He spins you around and slams you against the desk, pressing your cheek into the cold wood of it while your palms fly up onto the desk to catch yourself.
He leans in to your ear, pressing his body flush against yours, one hand in your hair pressing your face into the surface of the desk and another between your shoulder blades to keep you steady.
“Yeah? Well maybe if you weren’t such a fucking brat and learned to watch that pretty little mouth of yours I wouldn’t have to do this would I? But this is what you wanted, wasn’t it.” He whispers darkly into your ear, and you feel yourself throbbing at the way he’s manhandling you and saying such dirty things to you.
You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t dreamed of this, but you can’t let him know that. No, you were stubborn, you couldn’t let him win that easily.
“Fuck you.” You say through your smushed cheeks, and Price laughs.
“Yeah, bet you wanted that too.” He says amused.
“Gonna teach you a real good fuckin’ lesson yeah? Maybe you’ll learn when to shut your fuckin’ mouth.” He says as he yanks you up by your hair and you hiss.
He pulls you with him behind his desk and he sits in his chair, pulling you down with him and you fall over his lap.
“Yeah that’s it. Over my lap.”
You whine at his roughness and the pain from pulling your hair, still trying to process what’s happening.
Then, Price’s hand yanks your cargos down, leaving you in a cute lacy thong.
“Oh sweetheart, this what you’ve been hidin’ under all this?” He chuckles villainously. “Wonder if what you got under that shirt matches.” He smirks, and all you can do is whine in shock of what he’s doing to you, but fuck did you love every second of it.
His amused tone then turns angry again as he pulls you up by your hair again, forcing you to crane your neck back to look at him, hands gripping his thigh.
“Gonna spank this pretty little ass fuckin’ raw until you apologize to me.” He says, then shoved your head back down to fall over his thigh.
He rubs a hand over your ass, massaging your cheeks and then he lifts his hand up, and forcefully brings it back down.
Smack
The sound of his palm slapping your skin echoes in the small room of his office, and you yelp at the force of it. Price laughs again at your submissiveness.
“Not so chatty now are you?” He says as he lifts his hand back up and you squeeze your eyes shut in preparation of the next spank.
Smack
Price keeps spanking your ass harder and faster until it’s red with his handprint branded onto your ass cheeks, nothing but the sound of your whimpers, the slapping of skin, and his dirty words filling the room. You refuse to give him the apology he wants both because of your stubborn, bratty self, but also because this was making you soak your panties like you never have before. This was a dream come true having your Captain manhandle you and punish you the way you deserved for being so smart-mouthed with him.
“This is what you get, when you fuckin’ smack. backtalk smack. me smack. you get spanked smack. Like you deserve smack. You fucking smack. Little minx.”Smack.
Price delivers three more fast and hard spanks to your ass until he hears you sniffle.
Your head is hanging down over his knee so he can’t see the tears rolling down your cheeks from the pain of Price’s hand smacking your ass repeatedly.
“Aww sweetheart.” He says before he laughs to himself.
“Are those tears? What, you gonna cry from a few little spanks to this pretty little ass?” He asks in mock sympathy with a smirk on his face.
You sniffle again and whimper not answering him, still hiding your face.
He tugs your hair up to see your tear stained pouty face.
“Aww those are tears.” He fakes a frown, mocking your expression.
“You can make this all stop if you just say you’re sorry love.”
“Mm mm” you shake your head, a few more tears escaping your eyes and rolling down your cheeks, making him chuckle darkly again.
“You know.” He says as his hand creeps its way down to your clothed pussy, rubbing right where you were practically gushing out of your thong all over the both of your thighs.
“If you weren’t so wet, or rubbing your little clit all over my knee, I’d believe you didn’t want this to stop from your stubbornness. But I think you like getting spanked don’t you sweetheart?”
You just whine in response and rub your pussy over his knee again, not caring about letting him win anymore. You just wanted him to make you cum now.
He laughs at how pathetic you look and he moves your thong out of the way to stick a finger in your dripping pussy.
“Oh fuck love, you’re even wetter than I fuckin’ thought.” He says as he pumps his finger in and out of you slowly, other hand still gripping your hair so you keep eye contact with him.
“You apologize, and I’ll let you cum. Got it?” He says sternly.
You hesitate for a second, not really wanting to push your pride aside, but you needed to cum. Your pussy was throbbing and leaking so hard you couldn’t even think straight and you felt like it would never stop unless you got to cum.
You nod, and Price starts thrusting his finger in and out again. You hump his knee as your eyes roll back into your head. He lets go of your hair, making your head drop down again so he can spank you as he fingers you.
“Go on sweetheart. Say you’re sorry for being a brat.” He says bringing his palm down over your ass cheek again, making you jolt as he finger fucks you still.
Your mind goes fuzzy as he inserts another finger, his ring and middle finger fitting perfectly snug next to each other as they move in and out your sopping pussy.
You moan loudly at the sudden stretch which makes Price just finger you faster.
“That’s it. Keep rubbing that pussy on my knee. Rock those hips. Fuck you’re so damn tight. Such a pretty ass all marked up with my handprint.”
He remembers why he’s doing this in the first place and grips your hair one last time, pulling you up again.
“Say. It. Or I’ll fucking stop.”
You feel your orgasm get closer and closer and the thought of him stopping was worse than anything in this moment.
You look up at him, mouth open, fucked out look on your face with tears running down your cheeks now from pleasure instead of pain.
“I’m sorry. Fuck John I’m sorry. Just, please don’t stop.” You whimper out pathetically. “I won’t talkback to you again just please, let me cum.”
Price smirks and stops his movements, which makes you whine out loud.
He leans down to your face, licking your tears off your cheek before dragging his tongue up to your ear to whisper: “Good.”
He sits back up and speeds up even faster, fucking you so good with his fingers as you continue to hump his knee. Your hands are gripping his thighs for leverage as you feel yourself at the edge of your release.
“Cum for me. Cum all over my fucking fingers. Show me how sorry you are.” He demands, grip still tight on your hair and fingers pumping in and out faster and faster each time.
“Fuck John I- I’m, I’m cumming fuck-“ you babble out right before you roll your eyes back and squirt all over your bare thighs, Price’s clothed thigh, and his hand as your orgasm rips through your body making your pussy pulse around his fingers.
“Oh fuck sweetheart. Yeah look at that. Soaking my hand, fuck. Squeezing me so good.”
He fingers you through your orgasm, then he lets go of your hair and you drop your head down trying to catch your breath.
Price pulls your now soaked thong back over your pussy and pulls your cargos back up, wiping his hand on his own. He then helps you up to sit on his lap and you curl up on him, leaning your head into his neck.
“How you feelin’ sweetheart?” He asks.
You hum in response, closing your eyes.
“Listen, we can discuss the plan over again. I won’t force you to do anything you’re that uncomfortable doing.” He tells you.
You open your eyes.
“Funny you think I was ever going to listen to you in the first place.” You retort with a smirk.
He laughs.
“God, what am I gonna do with you?” He asks jokingly.
“Well if it’s anything like what you just did, then I’m in full compliance.”
You both laugh and you snuggle back into his chest, both knowing you were definitely going to back talk him again, but also both glad you ever did.
tag: @pearisvlogs
#call of duty#cod#cod mw#cod mw2#cod mw3#john price#captain john price#captain price#john price x reader#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader
757 notes
·
View notes
Note
omg I luv ur writing!!! is it possible to get a story thats like, ghost (or whomever) is stretching and training together but there’s alotttt of sexual tension, and ghost ends up hard and they notice it bc of the position they’re in? (Like he’s restraining reader and his bulge is right in their face😭)
Tension
A/N: I went kinda wild with this one... please excuse my filth. :)
Summary: You've always driven Ghost just short of losing his self-control. Some peeping, close combat training, and seeing you do yoga eventually snaps the fine line warding off the Lieutenant.
T/W's: NS/FW 18+ ONLY, fem reader, rough sex, overstimulation, tension, inappropriate horniness, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex/creampie (don't do that IRL), fingering, multiple orgasms, standing missionary?, a hint of rushed consent, big feelings, manhandling ofc, and I don't proofread well.
Ghost had watched your late-night training routine many times. A bit of a jog to get warmed up, some plyometrics on one of the mats, and then some light weights. It would leave you in a glittering sheen of sweat under the dim lights; jewel-encrusted as you’d wait until the last hour of your workout to pull out headphones and start doing yoga.
After looking up some of the things you did, the Lieutenant knew enough about it to understand that it wasn’t just some bullshit thing you felt worked. It held some actual merit on plenty of applicable skills. And fuck did you make it look good. From the simple stuff like laying on your back and just breathing, to the more mind-bending positions like the *Sirsa Padasana -*one of those Ghost needed to know the name of- after watching you stay almost entirely still like that for five minutes. He’d seen a lot of the different ways soldiers practiced not only strengthening their bodies but their minds while training. And the way you spent so much time in yoga practice… he felt like there wasn’t any question as to how you had such control over yourself in the field.
In the beginning, Ghost found himself unable to interrupt your… sessions? for the unfounded reason that his presence huffing and groaning while running or lifting would interrupt whatever silence or isolation you preferred. At least, the silence he assumed you wanted since he never saw you in the gym when the sun was still visible. Instead, he’d just come to the edge of the windows and peek to see if you were still there; Deciding how close you were to finishing up before going back to his quarters and waiting until he heard the sounds of your footsteps walking past his door. But he’d been caught after a while.
And it opened up and entirely different kind of training that Ghost wasn’t prepared for.
You had been more than happy to share the gym with him, almost begging that he join since you never had “company” this late at night. Not that his “company” was much more than his body just being in the same room, but it never failed him to see just how utterly calm you were at the thought of him lingering around you. Most people flinched or shied away, but you never did, and even when you twisted yourself into the most ridiculous looking shapes and put yourself into vulnerable positions, it didn’t effect you at all that he could walk right by you or possibly be watching.
He was always watching.
It made hand-to-hand combat drills more interesting too.
Gaz had been partnered up with you initially, seeing as he could be the most patient and actually give you clear pointers without sounding too harsh. He’d been quite happy with your progress over the span of a few months, and quickly gave Ghost a task that became his most challenging mission to date. Teaching you how to fight without losing his own mind being that fucking close to you for nearly two hours multiple times a week. As if personally viewing your workouts late at night wasn’t bad enough, he actually got to feel just how much the yoga strengthened you when he had to grapple your little body and try to pin you down. Teaching you to block fists without seeing them coming, locking knees with opponents three-times your size, avoiding handcuffs, knives, and other non-projection weapons came with a cost.
Ghost wouldn’t really be focused on your techniques or reaction time nearly as much as he’d be concerned about the way your hips ended up flush with his, or just how easy it was for him to just slip one arm between your thighs and effortlessly manhandle you onto the mats. It was hard keeping a clear head when you just made fighting feel a lot more like aggressive foreplay. Hell, you sounded a lot more like you were being fucked too. Nothing but little grunts and groans when he’d secure one arm behind your back, or little pants as you fought off his punches and forward drives to kick one of your feet out from under you. s
“Don’t let me holding anything in your house I your legs,” He felt himself growling out the order as you fought underneath him to pull your legs free from between his thighs.
“If I pin you, you’re dead.” The words were harsh… and it’s why everyone thought Gaz would be a better fit.
But that hadn’t been enough, and now here he was, half-sweating and half-hard, trying to make sure his cock didn’t brush up against you long enough for you to notice that you were playing more than just one game with him. While your strength didn’t match his own, it was your flexibility that made you competent enough to have even been thought to be put into a spar with him. You could twist yourself up and out of spaces most grown men would never think about, and it did give Ghost a bit more challenge trying to combat how hand-placements knowing you were about as slippery as fucking water. And without attempting a conventional tactic, you’d gotten yourself free of his legs and wrapped back around his back with one leg and an arm pulled in a headlock.
Ghost gave a frustrated sigh, feeling his air supply being hindered but not actually cut off. You’d misjudged his windpipe -probably due to the mask- and tightened down less than an inch away from perfect. It was a good counter move, but not lethal. And that was unacceptable. Hardly any force was needed to pry your arms from around your leg and literally throw you belly-down onto the mat, both arms pulled tight behind your back with his legs pinning yours down securely. You wiggled and jerked against him, ass brushing the base of his ever-present erection, and it forced him to let you go. For nothing more than the safety of his own pride and insurance that you would go another day without your Lieutenant’s perverse thoughts becoming known.
“I thought I had you that time,” You pant, coming up to sit on your knees across from him with a frustrated look pinching your eyebrows. “What did I do wrong?”
He had to give you credit, you were so damn teachable. Always asking questions and stopping in the middle of a fight to expect some kind of explanation instead of just learning through trial and error. Naturally, he’d been partial to ignoring you at first but when you wouldn’t engage after asking a question until he said something, he realized that there was no use. So, he did what he could do best. Teach by example.
Slow… example.
“Come here,” You got back up to your socked feet and walked right up to him, sweat clinging to the tip of your nose and dripping down the side of your neck. He had the insatiable urge to rip his mask up and lick that bead from your collarbone to the pulse point jumping under your skin.
With one hand he turned you around, your shoulders tight to his upper stomach and placed his forearm against your throat in the same way you’d done just a moment ago. It made things hard since his arm hardly fit in the gap to begin with, but he could feel you swallow easily, letting him know he’d found the correct angle.
“Your arm hit off to the side,” He tightened down just a little, feeling your body tense up as he began putting pressure over you. “When it should’ve been straight.” With the smallest adjustment, his left hand palmed the top of your head, holding you still while the bulk of his muscled, right forearm pressed flush against the right side of your throat, and his massive bicep flexing to apply pressure to the other side; forcing a hissing sound from your mouth.
Your little hands came up to grip his arms, not exactly pulling him away or fighting the pressure. Both hands curling around his And while he knew he shouldn’t actively be testing just how long you could go before passing out, Ghost found himself waiting patiently just to see what would happen under the stress. There for a split second, your muscles suddenly went slack and he honestly thought you’d already lost enough oxygen to faint. But when your fingers still pressing against the veins in his arm started slowly moving in a little wave of tapping motions, he was proved wrong.
Right away he remembered seeing you do it before. In the times your yoga practice was a little less than comfortable or you were actively trying to push yourself further than you’d gone before. Something like a little tell, or coping mechanism that allowed you to focus without exerting too much energy to something else outside of the main stimulus. Another little thing you did that Ghost found so much more interesting and downright strange about you. How clever you were doing things differently than everyone else.
“Alright, enough,” He let go and pushed his hand in the gap of your shoulders to put some pace between you.
You stumbled forwards, taking a gasp of breath and turning around to Ghost with a heavy flush settling in your cheeks and a bloodshot tint in the whites of your eyes. You brought a hand up to your neck where a faint outline of his own arm had pressed into you, your fingertips tracing the outline with a little bit of an embarrassed smile on your face.
“Any reason you didn’t fight back?” He questioned, flattening out his tone and looking at you with a pointed glare.
You shrug, looking down at the floor for a moment. “I… was trying to feel it. The pressure I mean, and see if I could resist you.”
Ghost rolled his eyes, trying to keep from barking out a laugh. He’d not even used his actual strength to apply pressure. It was nothing more than the literal bulk of his arm just fit against your throat. Hearing you think otherwise gave the Lieutenant a deep stroke to his ego, even giving his half-hard cock a good wave of stimulation as well. He couldn’t find it in himself to not give you correction though.
“You couldn’t resist it, kid.”
“Excuse me?” The offense you took surprised him. Ghost took a couple steps closer to you, settling his hands on his hips.
“You. Couldn’t. Stop. Me.” He punctuated his words with a flat, and uninterested tone to mask the sudden intrigue he had after actually managing to keep the thundering beat of his heart under control.
You, with your calm demeanor. Patience beyond humanity. Body from his own wet dreams… A better man would’ve known how to stay away from you and ignore the desires to bend you to his own will. A good man would be like Gaz. Train you with only your best interests in mind. Develop your weaknesses without thinking of all the ways he could use them against you in the most twisted and deprived ways. Learn your body and train it to be even more dangerous than it already was. Not spend every second during sparring using it as an opportunity to have you under him or wrapped up in his arms so tight you couldn’t get away.
“Looks like you can’t stop yourself, L.T.,” You answer with a confidence and direct stare directly at his belt.
The remembrance of his cock straining against his pants became much more significant that his own comfort and control in that moment. Halting all thoughts aside from the way your eyes swirled with unspoken questions and plenty of ideas forming that Ghost didn’t nearly have the ability to respond to. A cold rush of panic spread through his body, and he immediately turned his back to you, spitting out some kind of dismissal as soon as her could manage it.
“We’re done today, go get cleaned up.”
Later that day, you’d not seen a single glimpse of Ghost. You’d not really meant anything mean by the mention of his… excitement, while training. It was understandable, seeing as you’d both been quite close and in very vulnerable positions that could easily skew anyones mind past the straight and narrow. You’d be lying if there weren’t times that you thought about the different ways your body could be really manhandled by your Lieutenant. He was undeniably attractive with his gruff voice and often bitter character. It made Ghost who you knew, and while you knew most people wouldn’t understand, you felt comfortable and safe around him.
Even when you felt his erection pressing against you while teaching you how to defend yourself in close combat. That whole ordeal was in the forefront of your mind in such a significant way that even Soap noticed it while you were putting together some dinner for the pair of you. Nothing special, just some pasta and chicken, but you’d nearly boiled over the pot of spaghetti twice now, and the Sergeant wasn’t so oblivious to not notice.
“You good?” He nudged you, taking the spoon from your hand and scooting you out of the way politely as to take over the cooking while you had such a hard time focusing. You’re slow to respond, still a little stuck trying to sort through your own feelings and the attempts to sort through what had happened, if it was your fault, and how in hell you were going to try and make an apology for overstepping bounds.
“Um… I have a question,” You speak up, wrapping your arms around yourself and watching Soap stir the chicken in the skillet.
“If you were sparring with a girl… and you got hard, does that mean you’re into her?”
You felt like a high school girl gossiping with her friends about how to tell if guys were crushing on you. Such a stupid question would’ve gotten you in a lot of trouble if you’d asked anyone other than Soap. Johnny looks over at you, a smirk on his face and his eyes alight with mischief. He turns around and leans against the counter with his lower back resting there causally, glancing around the kitchen and living area to see if anyone was around before answering you.
“Well lass, I can’t be sure of nothin’ more than theory…” He rubs a hand over the short and scratchy stubble growing out on his cheek. “But, if I really liked her, yeah… I’d probably get a little excited doin’ somethin’ like that.”
The topic falls into a somewhat comfortable silence after that; Allowing you to eat you dinner on the couch, stewing over not just the sight of Ghost standing right in front of you, obviously turned on in some way or another as well as Soap’s -unknowing- confirmation. Therefore by the end of your pasta, after a long stint of attempting to read a book, and debating if you’d just fucked up a very important relationship within your squad, you found yourself getting changed into some comfortable clothes and heading back down to the gym.
You didn’t bother warming up with a jog, or any real kind of strength training. You needed some kind of way to focus, and yoga was the only surefire way to shut out any other thoughts. There was just enough dedication required to work through poses correctly, that after less than ten minutes of gentle flow you’d lost a lot of the edge cutting into your peace of mind over Ghost. You’d been working on extending your ability to remain in Kapila pose, and got almost two minutes over your record when you heard the door to the gym snick open, followed by heavy footsteps walking past you towards the weight rack.
It was nearly one in the morning. No one looked for a hard workout this late night other than your Lieutenant, and he was the last person you wanted to face right now. Fuck… he was the whole reason you were pushing your limits right now, nearly reaching into the painful edge of stretches just to force your breathing and mind onto the center of balance and exertion. With your face mere inches away from the ground, sweat drips off your nose onto the mat you’re sitting on and makes a quarter-sized puddle by the time you’ve finally felt like you’ve held to pose long enough. Your flow lead you into Compass pose next, beginning the opposite leg and physically guiding yourself into a position meant for nothing more than to release tension lingering in your body. It takes a while to feel your joints and tendons finally giving up to the stress in your mind, making the hold on your foot behind your head more manageable.
It’s around that time you begin hearing the sounds of squat plates clacking against each other alongside the rich and room-filling sounds of Ghost’s quiet grunts and groans. Resisting the strong desire to imagine what his legs look like, flexing under the weight of the bar. Using massive thighs and such explosive power to push the multiple hundred pounds he’s holding over his shoulders over twenty times for racking the weight. It’s all in the sounds you can’t ignore due to forgetting your headphones. Damning you to an onslaught of delicious sounds that would’ve fell on deaf ears anywhere else on base. Overshadowing the tinges of pain in your body with the commanding nature of the Lieutenant even when he wasn’t seeking it out.
You spent nearly an entire half hour trying not to put too much weight on Ghost’s presence, working at this point just to get through your flow without drawing too much attention to yourself, or giving any reason for Ghost to say anything to you. You’d not prepared anything in the way of an apology, and you couldn’t begin to formulate one with clanking metal and his suggestive sounds filling your ears. Maddening… downright sinful in nature. Enough to make any woman squirm. And fuck were you utterly terrified that you’d chosen to wear such light colored grey leggings, because if you’d move in just the right way, the dampness growing there would be painfully obvious.
In a headstand, choosing it for nothing more than your confidence in it, you’d closed your eyes and started tapping on the mat with your fingers. Picturing your own spine and tying a string to it, using that thin string to draw your vertebrae straight and tall, lengthening your entire body and deepening your breaths. You nearly fell flat on your face when you feel fingers graze the back of your knee and tease over your calf. The wiggle in your concentration stacks your weight over your head and forearms on the floor and pitches you towards the ground.
Right away, an arm wraps around your hips and swipes you off your own control and kept you from falling to the ground. Instead of hitting your mat or the concrete you had your eyes on, you feel nothing short of muscle and stocky build pressed against the entire backside of your body as Ghost holds you upside down not unlike a sack of flour or a sniper rifle. The back of your head hits against his lower leg and you grunt a little, taken by surprise and once again finding yourself at the mercy of Ghost’s strength alone. You’re about to speak up, and are cut short by the Lieutenant literally spinning you right-side up with his free arm, holding you eye-level with him.
“Distracted?” His eyebrow raises above the cut out of his -much thinner- almost athletic mask missing the trademark skull painted on it. His hand palming your ass felt like it was branding the skin under your leggings, leaving you speechless and hanging on nothing more than the sounds of his breaths hissing through the mask.
“You… you spooked me,” You mutter, one hand bracing on his shoulder and the other somewhere on his chest… you couldn’t quite gather enough spacial awareness to connect the dots. “Made me jump is all.”
Ghost chuckled, “Spooked you?” Even his tone was mocking of the ridiculous idea you knew was so full of holes, it wouldn’t hold water. “Touching you s’enough?”
Looking down at your body pressed against his; the direct contrast of your cream colored knit sweater and his tight-fitting black shirt, the embarrassingly long distance between your feet and the floor. Everything about this meeting with Ghost was so far different than when you met on level ground in the sparring room. Then, you both knew the intentions. How to work around each other and how to go about pushing the right buttons. But now… you weren’t even close to feeling like having any power, and you were certain that the Lieutenant could feel it radiating off of you.
“Maybe it is.” Replying back, you feel his fingers dig a little into the flesh of your ass a little harder.
“Maybe its not what I’ve done that’s bothering you… but what you’ve been thinking about,” He challenged you back, looking over at the mat you’d been using. “Why you came here, pushing so hard… Ignoring me.”
All the air in your lungs evacuated when he so accurately saw right through your skull and into the deep recesses of your head. Enough that you were nodding your head just enough for Ghost to let out something of and amused kind of sound. Short of real laugher, but not nearly enough to call it a breath. Either way, there was no hiding now. You admitted it right to his face, looking deep in those dark eyes with a level of intensity you had never seen from him before.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s in your little head?”
You hadn’t the slightest idea where to begin. Should you admit that you were hungry for more about his thoughts on you? Or just admit that you’d been struggling all even with the guilt of enjoying the thought of him lusting over you and having the power to call him out over it? So many ideas popped into your head, spinning it around so quickly that y the time you spit out an answer, you were already in the changing rooms in the back of the gym; Ghost carrying you towards the counter with a mirror. He sat you down on it, slotting his hips between your spread thighs and rubbing those massive hands up your thighs like he was savoring the feeling of your muscles tensing up under his touch.
“C’mon. That was an order, soldier.” He pressed, actually pinching at the creases of your thighs made all the more defined with you sitting. “D’you have somethin’ you want to ask me? About training earlier…”
You gasped softly, twitching when his fingertips traced over the indentions in your thighs marking dimples and other imperfections that you would’ve loved to go unnoticed by his wandering hands curling around your hips and back towards your ass again, sliding you flush against his chest. Forcing you to visualize the heavier rise and fall of his chest, shadows defining the valley between his pecs and the heartbreakingly gorgeous width of his shoulders caging you in. Masterfully, this man was drawing words out of you in such a confident and almost inescapable seduction. Yet the only question you’d been struggling with was answered with nothing more than the soothing voice and teasing touch of a man who had you wrapped around his finger.
“Hmm, no questions?” His head tilted a bit, seeing you so flustered over nothing than a couple little touches.
Enjoying nothing more than how you looked at him so surprised and innocent, despite knowing just how fucking turned on you were after spotting the totally soaked crotch of your leggings after approaching you during your headstand. Unable to resist you any longer, Ghost tipped your chin up a bit to meet his gaze and purposefully softened it. Wanting to ease you into this a little more, humming lowly when your pretty lips curled into a sweet smile. Letting your head rest in his hold with every ounce of trust you showed in the field and one the mats during conditioning.
“I have a question for you. Did you like it…? Seeing me standing there with a hard cock, knowing you were the sole reason for it.” He traced his finger down the bridge of your nose gently.
“How does it make you feel inside, knowing I want to feel every inch of you. Taste your screams of my name and the slick dripping out of your cunt onto those fucking leggings you’re wearing.”
“F-felt… good,” You sputter, face flaring brightly. “Liked it a lot.”
His hands kneading harshly at your ass quickly came up to the high waist of your leggings and tugged, hard. Breaking stitches and even tearing the material on one side as he pulled those skin-tight leggings off your legs; Growling deep in his chest when the sheen of your arousal spread on your skin under the florescent light. You held on to his shoulders, helping him just enough to make sure he didn’t totally ruin your bottoms.
“I knew you did,” He snarled, throwing your pants behind him and giving you a very clear smile from behind his mask. “Such a good solider, too bad she’s a dirty little slut for her Lieutenant’s cock.”
You could help the guttural moan you let out when his fingers dipped between the slick folds of your pussy and so very gently rubbed over your swollen clit. Using his hips to keep your thighs from locking his hand into place. Ghost was as calm and collected as ever, giving you an almost placating look as you squirmed and fought between the desire to back away from the sudden intense stimulation and the desire for more. His other hand held your chin steady, tutting at you like he was disappointed when you bit your lip to try and muffle the sounds of pleasure he was giving you.
“No, you’re not allowed to do that.” He pinched your clit, making you yelp loudly and squeeze your thighs against him until they shook. “You’ll sit there and let me play with you until i’m finished, okay?” Ghost actually nodded your head up and down for you. “That means I hear every fucking sound, because they’re all mine.”
You couldn’t remember how many times you came around Ghost’s fingers before the entire countertop you sat on was pooling with your cum. Feeling it stick to your skin and the wet sensation of his mask dragging over your body as he licked and bit at your skin until the pain melted into such overwhelming ecstasy that you couldn’t hold your upper body of your own strength. You’d slumped your forehead against his chest, blabbering utter nonsense and struggling to manage just how Ghost could expertly play your body to his own desires. With a swollen and exhausted cunt still clenching around his fingers, you were being lifted off the counter and up into Ghost’s arms with the hot and thick head of his dick teasing your dripping hole.
“G-Ghost… can’t take it. Can’t take more,” You groan, clawing at his shoulders and back as he gently rolls his hips just enough to give you a taste of what he was about to stretch you out with.
“Oh yeah you can…” His breathless chuckle made your stomach churn. “You can. And you will, because I need you to come around my dick.”
In one fatal movement, you were speared onto Ghost’s cock down to the base. Crying out his name as your walls spasmed to adjust in time. Adjusting his hold on your body, the flexibility he’d lusted over while watching you worked to his advantage as he held you by your thighs, dropping your pussy back down over him. Releasing the first of many wet, sucking sounds that earned you such a deep moan of your own name that you impossibly tightened around him.
“Thaaatt’s ittt,” His punched-out praise only urged you on, creating deeper and more unavoidable desire to please him. “Such a good fuckin’ slut. Dripping down my balls… fuucck. You’re gonna make me come.”
The idea of Ghost filling you with his hot release poured hot, honeyed feelings of pleasure. You couldn’t believe there was a feeling such as deeply effecting as this. The shocking weakness in which you felt completely absorbed in to the point that you saw past the rough exterior Ghost was presenting, and understood that he wasn’t taking with your physical self, but everything else that you could offer him. Closeness, support, trust beyond what others had given… maybe even love. Sex hadn’t felt like this before. Especially the filthy way Ghost was fucking his cock up into you so deeply your cervix was curving to mold around his tip. But the connection was there and so strong that your heart was burning in your chest.
“Doin’ so good…” He murmured, wet mask brushing against your cheek and fanning damp breaths over your sensitive skin. “God m’gonna keep you right here forever,” He groaned, biting at your cheek through his mask. “My little toy. Let me make you feel good…”
That wetness in your bright eyes as you nodded up at him, whimpering broken pleads and begs for him to do it. To claim you… fill you up over and over. Never spend another day without Ghost either right next to you, or his semen dripping out of you as a reminder that you’ve been possessed by such a powerful and commanding man that would stop at nothing to drive you out of your mind with pleasure. Such intense emotional and physical feelings that sent you careening over the edge of a earth-shattering orgasm that left you quite literally screaming out his name at the top of your lungs, feeling a heavy pressure in your lower stomach break. Clamping down on Ghost’s cock and feeling overwhelming wetness soaking his pelvis and dripping down onto the floor in a gush of splatters.
“Shhiitt!” Ghost shouted out your name, stuffing his cock as deeply inside you as he could.
Feeling jets of his release flooding your pussy and overflowing the tight space until it rolled down your inner thighs in thick pearl rivulets. His hips rocked against yours, stuttering as they grew weak and his cock overstimulating against the texture and tightness. Right away the bruising grip on your ass and thighs loosened, and on unsteady legs Ghost moved you both back towards the counter and reluctantly drew himself out of you with a hiss. Too fucked out to even respond in a noticeable way, you just kept your weakened legs and arms wrapped as tightly around him as you could. Shivering with aftershocks of nearly-fried nerves and overworked muscles.
You were cradled against Ghost’s chest, with both arms protecting your body. His head resting atop yours, listening to your breaths and feeling the way you began to slowly wind down, made that much easier by his fingers trailing up and down your spine and whispered praise scratching an itch deep in your heart and brain. He was taken by you, so small and made that much smaller with nothing but that soft sweater covering your form and the little hands you’d fisted into his shirt. So pretty, and if it wasn’t for seeing your skills as a soldier, he’d think you were as breakable as a hand painted, porcelain teacup.
Duty to protect and provide washed over Ghost. So strongly that even the small chills rising on your legs were distressing him beyond what would’ve felt acceptable. He wanted you warm and feeling safe with him after taking so much for so long that you could hardly hold your own head up. Moving you again to his quarters was his next task, and he very quickly had you gathered up in his arms and the large towel you’d brought to the gym draped over your bottom half so that neither of you would have to fuss with the wet leggings that had been unintentionally soaked by your final orgasm. Ghost didn’t even bother picking them up off the floor since the right side had been ripped apart beyond repair or wearing again. Mentally, he already had plans on replacing them.
But there would be a lot of things that changed sooner than later.
He’d done everything to stay away. Pretend that he didn’t want you deep in his very bones, and ignore how heavy of a struggle it became to deny simple closeness to another human being that meant more than a cooperating operator. You would be nothing less than his sole purpose in working for. Ensuring you had everything you needed and more than you could ever ask for. He’d take nothing you gave for granted, including the total control of your body for him tonight. And he’d be certain that the next time he touched you… he would do it the right way instead of allowing the desperate side of him to try and swallow you whole. You deserved more than a rough and dominating man. And he wasn’t sure how to even go about becoming something he’d long abandoned for no other reason than survival.
But fuck if he’d be damned if he didn’t dedicate the rest of his life trying.
Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated
#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#cod#cod mwii#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#velvetures writes#velvetures
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Simon Riley NSFW hcs ♡
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Two lovely people asked for my NSFW Simon headcannons and I'm happy to provide!!
Just a disclaimer, these are my headcannons. If you have ones that are totally different, that's okay!
He's fictional and can be whatever you want him to be <3 (except a rapist. We don't do that here.)
If you have any COD thoughts or requests, my inbox is open!!
~ Fi 🐝
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
I'm a soft!Simon truther until death.
There's not a single reality in which I can see him ever being too rough with you, let alone hurting you.
First of all, he has no fucking clue what he's doing. He's maybe had sex 2-3 times in his life and I don't think any of them were memorable or good.
I'd wager that all of them were hookups, encouraged by other soldiers to "let off steam". But Simon just can't do it, it feels so wrong. To give himself so fully to someone he doesn't even know.
There needs to be an emotional connection in order for him to feel comfortable and good. He needs to trust and love this person before he can do anything with them.
It's gonna take a while for him to open up, but once he does everything is smooth sailing.
(I also don't think he masturbated excessively. He probably jerked off, everyone gets horny, but especially if we say he's on antidepressants, his sex drive is pretty low. He's either too tired or just doesn't care)
Your first time together was fueled by a, not so uncommon, make-out session on his couch. It'd usually end with you grinding on his thigh or rubbing yourself over his clothed cock until you both reached a satisfactory end.
Simon thinks he could live an entire relationship with only sticking to dry humping, but in reality he's just terrified of the intimacy of real sex.
It's not too romantic, none of that rose petals lit candle stuff. It's not that Simon hates all of that, but I just think it'd be too much for the first time.
He's already so nervous (so are you probably if we're honest) and all that extra stuff would overwhelm the fuck out of him.
(He will spoil you with rose petals and candles another night, even if it just ends you with you falling asleep in eachother's arms <3)
Eventhough it's soft and sweet, you're both still very horny and basically rip the clothes off of the other.
Foreplay is important!!! (For all my girlies who don't drip down their thighs)
Not only for you but for him too. Even if he's rock hard already, he wants to enjoy himself, maybe be a tease. He will always make sure that you're okay and ready (and so will you bc he deserves it).
Would literally eat you out to calm himself down. He probably has fallen asleep while licking your pussy, it's his personal meditation.
Your taste, the way you feel on his tongue and the fact that he was two perfectly good pillows wrapped around his head made it easy for him to nod off.
Also, he prefers it hairy. (Fight me.) (pls don't)
I know it's cliche but he's like 2 seconds away from just coming inside of you the second he pushes in. Not only does he feel good but when he looks down he sees you and he could cry from how happy he is. He just loves you so much.
Can we please put the "You only take half of him" bullshit to rest??? Thank you. We all know Simon as BDE but let's keep it on the real side okay. He couldn't give less of a shit if you can take him to the hilt or not.
(Some gals physically can't bc if your vaginal canal is too short, then it's impossible. You don't want a bruised cervix, so don't be stupid) I do think when he's more comfortable about it and a little more desperate and rough, he'll play into the size kink.
He probably has a huge size kink anyway but he would never make you feel bad if you couldn't take all of him. (Especially if you're giving him head bc let's be real that thing is not going down no one's throat okay)
He has the prettiest moans. I JUST KNOW IT. they're more throaty and deep but they sound good. I honestly don't think this man is capable of whimpering (like physically. Not with that smoker lung) sorry babes.
Simon isn't too loud, but just enough to make you that much hotter. He will try to pull more moans out of you, like a little challenge for himself.
NONE OF THAT "10 rounds Riley" SHIT. (Have any of y'all ever had an orgasm before like?? Who the fuck is going ten rounds??? Not me that's for sure lmao) it really all depends on your guys' mood and neediness on that day.
I do think he can and wants to go a couple of rounds but it's probably more on the rare side and never more than 4.
He knocks out immediately. He's always tired anyways.
I think his favorite positions are missionary, prone bone, and cow girl. He likes the closeness, wants to feel every part of you and kiss it like his life depends on it.
The further you are into your relationship, the more new stuff you can try out. He's always gonna be hesitant at first but if it's not too out there he'll try it.
Simon will tell you if something is a hard no for him and he expects you to respect, just as he would for you.
Would 100% make you ride his face. Wants to he smothered in it okay. (Simon said sit, so sit.)
Simon would be down to tying you up (one condition; you're never tied to anything. In case of emergencies)
You won't get him to be tied up though, that's a real hard no.
I think the closest you'd get to a submissive Simon is if you order him around.
He's sitting on his knees before you and you tell him exactly what you want him to do (one thing Simon Riley can do is follow orders) and he'll pretend to let you be in control and maybe you are for a while, but deep down he's always in control (not necessarily sexual or possessively, he just needs the security)
He loves to get head (not as much as giving it tho) but he will never ever force his cock down your throat, even if you begged him.
He can't do it, won't do it. Has he had the urge and fantasies?? Sure, but it goes against everything he promised when you got into a relationship.
Sweetly suck on his tip and stroke the rest of his length and he's happy as a clam <3
His absolutely favorite thing is when you ride him in the morning. Just lazy and sloppy circles of your hips while you sit on top of him. He loves the sight.
Simon'll gently hold onto your hips and guide you if need be. It's even better if you're laying flush against his chest and the both of you are snuggled under the blanket.
Bonus; he loves to make-out with you. It's an unhealthy obsession that has led to too much lipgloss/lipstick ingested just bc the fucker couldn't wait 2 minutes for you to take it off.
Kissing you is his number 1 way to show you how much he loves you since words aren't his strong suit.
Needless to say, he's head over heels for you, and the sex is great. <3
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
I hope you lovelies enjoyed it!
More of my works --> 💫
#bumblebeesfromvenus#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#ghost cod#ghost call of duty
275 notes
·
View notes
Text
kinktober 2 - roleplay, titfucking
dom!simon x dom!johnny x sub!reader
(18+/mdni, bimboificiation/objectification, degrading comments)
you'd felt utterly humiliated when the boys had told you what fantasy they wanted to act out next, but the thought had made you shiver and drip all the same. it was so humiliating, so far from who you really were and who the boys knew you to be, but that's probably what made you so into it.
a capable soldier--reduced, debased, objectified.
they'd told you to keep up the act with them for an entire day, promising you'd be fucked brainless and really put in your place in the evening. so you had, you pranced around base in a tight sports bra and even tighter leggings--showing off your body to anyone who might look. you'd even done makeup for the day, with nice thick lashes and painted lips. put on the fakest smile and practiced an airy little laugh.
today you were johnny and simon's bimbo. nothing more.
the ditzy act didn't come too easy, until the boys were there to enforce it, and enforce it they did.
as soon as they set eyes on you, the taunting and teasing begins.
"did yer forget to get dressed today, doll?" johnny is all smirks. simon only addresses your chest.
"tits look so fucking good, love. giving everyone on base a look?"
you kept 'forgetting' directions throughout the day, needing the boys to escort you around the base as you clung to their beefy arms and listened to them condescend about where the gym was, again. listened to them explain how the equipment worked and how they were so certain that weight was just too much for you.
during shooting practice later in the day, when it was just the three of you, you'd suddenly 'forgotten' how to shoot and needed a reminder, needed the tutelage of your men. they weren't satisfied until one of them was pressed up against you, teaching you how to aim all over again, showing you just how wrong you were.
"steamin' jesus, they let little girls like you use guns. danger to the whole base, lt, don't ya think?"
"you're right johnny, don't even think we should bother finishing. this one should be on desk duty."
they 'force' you into dealing with your paperwork in simon's office, but you all know no real paperwork will be getting done. simon makes you sit in his lap, as he mansplains every term on the form in the most sickening tone, and he chuckles as you sit in his lap and squirm under his words--then he mocks you for enjoying it.
"fuck, is that even english, love? have you lost the ability to write? do it again."
"such a dumb little thing, how did she even make sergeant? same rank as me? that's some bullshit, ghost."
"maybe a demotion is in order for this little airhead, huh?"
simon pulls you from the paperwork and pushes you in between his legs, and you think he's going to put your mouth to use and watch your lips wrap around his fat cock. instead he forces you forward so he can stick his cock between your tits, spits onto them to lube them up as he slides between them, making a sloppy mess of you as his precum smears over them too. slick sounds fill the room as simon fucks your tits with fervor.
"hold them together for me, yeah? gotta use these bimbo tits for what they were made for."
you feel like a fucking bimbo right now, a mere object to be used in a way that gives you no physical stimulation--you just have to look pretty and hold your tits together like a good little ditz, and watch as simon's cock peeks out through your flesh.
johnny makes his way over to join you both, and the sound of his zipper makes you drool. he braces himself over simon, leaning in to stuff himself between your lips, once more cementing your status as they use you entirely for their own pleasure.
"open yer mouth, better sucking my cock than saying anything stupid, bonnie."
#ghost x soap x reader#ghoap x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghoap#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#soap mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#john mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#call of duty x reader#call of duty fanfic#kinktober#another lil drabble but ahh tomorrow we get a real fic!!!
938 notes
·
View notes
Note
-Runs back into the room from having been wrapped up in the Sub Shitshow- context PLEASE on what’s up with Putin!?
Lol okay buckle up:
Yevgeny Prighozin is (well, as of now) one of Putin's closest allies. He is Putin's former chef and now the CEO of Wagner Group, the Russian private army of mercenaries who have spent a decade plundering Africa and destroying Syria in the employ of various terrible local dictators. Since the invasion of Ukraine, Wagner has become one of the Russian army's mainstays, mostly because they're the only ones who seem able to actually do anything. Of course, it did still take them nine months to take Bakhmut, Ukraine's *checks notes* 53rd largest city with very little strategic value, but given what a shitshow the regular Russian army has been, that's good. Or something.
The Russian army is mostly good at destroying dams and bombing civilians, which are obviously terrible for many reasons, but not that useful in the military scheme of things.
However, Wagner are also -- I hasten to stress -- thoroughly terrible people. Aside from all the shit in Africa and Syria, they've done likewise in Ukraine and will continue to do so. Legally speaking, they technically "don't exist," which has allowed them to get around a lot of the usual rules and regulations that are supposed to "bind" (ha) the Russian army. They are obviously in Ukraine directly at Putin's behest and doing Putin's bidding, but it turns out that giving an ambitious and amoral psychopathic warlord his own private army of criminals, rapists, killers, and whoever else they can dredge out of Russia's prisons to throw at the front line and die en masse may not be a good idea?
Shocking, I know.
Anyway, Prigozhin has spent months ripping into the Russian Minister of Defense, Sergei Shoigu, for what a whole shitshow clusterfuck this whole stupid war patently is. (Not, however, that this has stopped him from continuing to eagerly carry it out, since he's just as much or indeed even more of a zealot as the rest of Putin's government.) This has included blaming Shoigu for equipment losses, underprovisioning of Wagner troops, general strategic numbnuttery, etc. Prigozhin has not, however -- again, until now -- attacked Putin directly, or backed off from getting his losers killed in Bakhmut and/or wherever else. One suspects that Putin has been perfectly happy to let Prigozhin scapegoat Shoigu for the war's failures, since this means Shoigu can always just conveniently fall out a window or something if it gets too necessary to make a public show of displeasure, and not Putin.
HOWEVER, things took a turn VERY FAST today, within about 12 hours. Prigozhin has, as noted, spent months tearing the Russian military leadership a new asshole -- not because he's a good guy (he's a fucking war criminal on like, 10 different levels), but because it is plainly obvious what a shitshow this is and even a war criminal has his limits as to how much totally pointless murderous bullshit he wants to go through, I guess. (That includes telling the truth about why the war started -- i.e. to steal Ukrainian stuff/land for the oligarchs, and not any of Putin's other stupid excuses.)
Today (June 23) Prigozhin accused the Russian Ministry of Defense of orchestrating a rocket attack on Wagner's camp in eastern Ukraine (near the Russian border) and causing massive casualties;
We don't have proof of this yet, or indeed much else of what Prigozhin is talking about, BUT he finally decided to put his Coup Hat On and get serious about "punishing" Russian military leadership, i.e. presumably Shoigu, declaring that "there are 25,000 of us [Wagner soldiers] and we're coming into Russia to sort out this chaos"
So -- again, according to Prigozhin, who is not the world's most reliable source on anything -- he turned his army of yoinks around, left Ukraine, and marched into the southwestern Russian city of Rostov-on-Don, where the Russian military command in charge of the assault on Ukraine is headquartered;
For a while, there was nothing but Prigozhin's various unhinged rants on Telegram to prove any of this, but it's now early tomorrow morning in Russia and there are indeed a lot of videos of what DOES IN FACT LOOK like Wagner mercenaries rolling into Rostov and storming Ministry of Defense buildings;
Firm information on what is going on is almost nonexistent, even for Russia, but Putin is clearly taking this seriously; Moscow is shut down, there are armored vehicles on the streets, Google is down in Russia, and Russian newscasters are interrupting their broadcasts to insist Don't Look, Everything Is Fine Here, Totally Fine, Do You Hear Swan Lake? I Don't Hear Swan Lake!
Nobody can find Putin either, allegedly, but don't worry! He has been "briefed on the situation and everything is under control!"
The Russian FSB (successor to the KGB) has meanwhile issued a warrant for Prigozhin's arrest, said they'll charge/prosecute him for treason and armed rebellion against the state, and ordered him to stand down/his own men to arrest him
This, uh, does not appear to be working
ANYWAY, Putin's basically fucked no matter how this ends. Wagner literally just led an armed mutiny, he can't feel good about sending his ex-bestie Prigozhin back to Ukraine with any confidence that his orders will continue to be obeyed, it's Russian-on-Russian open war in the streets of Rostov and God knows where else, he's totally lost control of the narrative, the war, the domestic political situation, Wagner, probably good chunks of the Russian military command/elite establishment, etc., and we all know what happens to dictators in Russia who can no longer dictate
(And yet the Russian army is still finding time to lob some missiles at civilian buildings in Kyiv tonight, because they suck).
This is obviously a huge lucky break for Ukraine as well, since if the Russians are busy fighting each other, they can continue to push for a big breakthrough on their counteroffensive.
So yeah. Pride Month really wheeling out the big guns here, after Putin was the top option picked for Lady Karma to do her thing on in my poll a few weeks ago.
Stay tuned.
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Part 3 (One of Us) of 'Never Took The Time (To Forget)' previously known as 'Hopper Adopts Steve But Make It Sad'
Part 1 (Hop fucks up), Part 2 (Pride and Prejudices: Joyce Edition)
Here's a bit more for you filthy animals 😘
Much like he's come to expect from the small soldiers these children have fashioned themselves into he's not surprised when they come pouring out of whichever of the twins' rooms they shoved themselves in like codependent sardines. He's not surprised by the looks of anger and disappointment and confusion. Claudia Henderson's kid -Dustin- looks on the edge of tears with a grim set to his mouth that reminds him of when the kid's mom is beyond words in her slow-burning fury. El and Will have matching looks of disappointed confusion.
What he's not expecting is the way Mike and the younger (usually more volatile) Sinclair are holding onto an incensed looking Lucas. Lucas who has always been the polite one when it came to addressing adults and the one to preach caution and thinking plans through. Lucas who has been quiet and withdrawn since Hop came back, spending his days at the edge of Party affairs when not helping in the rebuilding efforts around town or sitting at Max's bedside.
"What the fuck, Hopper?" The kid spits out and that seems to snap the rest of The Party into action. Will goes to join the two holding Sinclair back but Dustin starts near incoherently yelling in that screechy pitch only that kid seemed to be able to hit about bullshit cops and useless adults and to let Lucas go. "He idolized you, man! Would tell us all the time that you were 'one of the good ones' that if we ever needed anyone and he wasn't there, to find you. That you would take care of us because that's just what you did for people. Because you were good!"
"Lucas, chill out man." Mike pants though he's also glaring daggers at Hop.
This is where Joyce (god bless her) decides to step in. "Lucas, honey-" She says with her soft voice and big wet eyes and that warmth she seems to infuse into everything she touched. "It's complicated. There's some things you just don't understand and-"
"No! You two don't understand! Steve is GOOD. He's good and he cares and he takes care of everyone else and he always kept us safe." The kid seems to be losing some of his steam, pulling at his friends less and resigned to shaking in barely contained fury. "He gets hurt and he gets back up and he apologizes for taking a fall in the first place! He's just Good."
"I know he's been good to you kids and I appreciate that, I really do Lucas." Joyce says, her voice a little stronger, that steadiness returning. "Sometimes people in our lives can do bad things to others and we don't see it because we care about them and that's not always a bad thing. But we have to remember that the people who were wronged are allowed to be upset and that's normal to feel and-"
"You mean like Jonathan?" The room goes quiet. Will looks resigned but not surprised by Lucas' question but the rest of the kids look just as confused as him and Joyce. "Did you really think Steve broke his camera -in the school parking lot of all places- for the hell of it? Did you seriously never question it?"
Hop feels something twist in his gut. He had been so caught up in the search for Will and wrangling a frantic Joyce that he hadn't paid any attention to small-town squabbles like two teenagers having it out in the school parking lot, the destruction of personal property or what might have triggered it. He looks over the kids' heads to see Jonathan and his stoner buddy standing just outside his door. The friend looks confused but Jon is looking at his mom who hasn't noticed him yet like a man preparing himself for the gallows.
"Mom." Joyce's eyes snap from where they were locked on Lucas up to her oldest son. "Mom, I-"
"What are they talking about Jon?" It's quiet. Quiet and scared because everyone in the room knows that whatever secret reason Lucas (and maybe Will?) seems to be the only one to know Steve had for picking a fight isn't going to be good. Jonathan's mouth opens like he's going to say something but no words come out. "Honey, what did you do?"
"He took pictures of Steve and his friends the night Barbara Holland disappeared."
"Will?" all eyes except Lucas' (who is still glaring daggers at Hop) are on the two brothers. One scared and almost pleading the other disappointed and resolved.
"He hid in the bushes and took pictures of Steve and his friends with Nancy and Barbara. There were pictures of Barbara at the Harrington place before she died and he never told anyone. But there were also-" He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes like he can't look at his older brother who has hung his shaggy head under everyone's heavy gaze. "There were pictures of just Steve and Nancy. Alone together. In Steve's room."
There's a sharp gasp that he thinks came from Joyce but he's too busy watching the young man he's come to consider a son. His head is still lowered and his shoulders are curving in on themselves as he shakes off the hand his long-haired friend tries to place on his shoulder.
"Oh baby," Joyce's voice is wet again. A tone of horrified disappointment to it that Hop has only heard her use when talking to or about one other person. "Tell me you didn't."
"Then he-" Will clears his throat like this one is what gives him pause. "He was caught developing the pictures in the school's darkroom. All of the pictures. And he had zoomed in on Steve's window. Nancy was the center of the shot." The kid's eyes flit over to Mike (who is now turning an interesting shade of red as he glares at Jonathan) before he blushes and looks at the ground, "She uh-"
Lucas does not seem to share Will's newfound hesitance in the face of an enraged Mike Wheeler. "Most of the upperclassmen argue if she had a bra or not but they all seem to agree she didn't have a top."
"Oh my god." Everyone was frozen as Joyce began to crumble. "Oh my god." He reached out to catch her, her nails digging into his arm through his shirt sleeve as she stared unseeing at her oldest son.
Jonathan started forward. "Mom, I-" a hand in the middle of his chest stopped him. "Will, please, I need to-"
"Just stop, man." Lucas sighs. "You started this shit, you gotta deal with it before you hurt someone else besides Steve."
"I didn't mean to hurt Steve."
Hops feels himself frozen to the spot in a way he's not used to anymore these days. His mind is working overtime picking out all of the charges that could have been pressed even against a boy of 15/16 if any of the kids in Harrington's inner circle had told an actual adult about the situation. The veritable legal hell that would have been brought down on Joyce while searching for a son legally assumed dead.
"Is that what you told yourself when you helped Nancy cheat?" And it just kept getting worse.
Joyce gives off a whimper and the kids gathered make varied sounds of shock and disgust.
"They were broken up."
"Were they? Cause everybody at school and half the town seems to all know about you and Nancy disappearing together when Steve was still calling her his girlfriend and then you all showed back up to school, Steve beat to hell again and Nancy hanging all over you. The basketball team STILL talk about it."
He's heard enough. "Alright, that's it!" He yells out over the children yelling and Joyce demanding answers and Jonathan's friend trying to say something about there being some sort of explanation. "This doesn't help us help Steve."
Lucas shakes off the loose hold Erica and Mike still had on him and crosses his arms as he rolls back his shoulders and tilts his jaw up to fix him with a glare. The kid's stance is almost arrogant but Hop can't help but notice the way he rests his weight on his off side, his shoulders back and his posture straight without his chest puffing out ridiculously like Hop is used to from teenage boys gearing for a fight.
"I think you've helped enough, Hopper." It's quiet and biting and he lets himself have a moment of grief for the childhood these kids lost, and the fact that he's almost positive Lucas didn't pick up this easy confidence from anyone else in their monster fighting club but Steve. "You and Mrs. Byers want to play nice now cause you feel guilty and that's all well and good but what happens when Steve does something else you don't agree with without explanation? Or he and Jonathan or Nancy get in another fight? When we finally get rid of Vecna and the Upside Down for good? What happens when you don't feel guilty anymore?"
"I can't make any sort of promise you lot will believe. And lord knows I'm pretty shit at keeping them anyways. I just want to be able to try."
"He mourned you, you know. When we were told you didn't make it." That weight is back in his chest. "He held himself together around us but there were- there were moments we could tell. He and El really bonded over that. Over you. Over losing you."
"I didn't know."
"Of course you didn't. You didn't want to know."
"There's no way I can make you believe me. That I want to fix this."
"We want to, Hopper." Dustin butts in, placing a hand on Lucas' shoulder and limping up next to the other boy. "But from what you and Mrs. Byers were talking about... There's just a lot that makes a lot more sense and it doesn't inspire a lot of faith in either of you."
"We need to discuss this as a Party."
"Okay."
"That means letting us take care of it. Steve's one of us and you hurt him."
"I understand."
"So you and Mrs. Byers have got to wait till we say you can talk to Steve. That he's ready for it."
"Now, kids-"
"No they're right, Joyce. We fucked it up on our own and- and he trusts these little shits more than he trusts us right now. We've gotta do the same."
Joyce sighs, "Fine."
She's not happy about it and honestly neither is he. But if the last few years and his stint in a Russian gulag and the subsequent escape taught him anything it's maybe he needs to trust his people to do what they need to do.
The kids scurry back to whichever of the Twins' room they came from, led by a newly determined and involved Lucas and a furiously muttering Dustin. Jonathan and Joyce make their way to the kitchen and Hopper decides he's going to let them have that conversation in as much privacy as they can with a house as full as theirs.
Hopper sits in the living room, runs his hands through his hair that's finally growing out and pulls them down his face before resting his chin on steepled fingers. He hates sitting and waiting and relying on someone else for the next steps. But all he can think about is the sound Steve made. The look in his eyes. The pride in his voice the last time he heard him say, "My Hop."
That's it!
He stands up so fast his bad ankle protests and his knees pop. He limps to the front door, yelling out to the house that he has to go, has something to do. Calls out he has his walkie and that El needs to be ready on time. Then he's out the door.
Part 4.1
More coming soon! Hopefully! Work went from an active team of about 12 to 5, not including the managers we lost ssssooo... Yeah fun times. 🙃
So here's a tag-list, hope I didn't miss anyone. Feel free to yell at/with me in the comments or ask box. If you see your old tag in my list tell me your new one so I can fix it.
@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @katdeerly @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @ohimamarigold @child-of-cthulhu @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @rocochen20 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus
#Never Took The Time (To Forget)#nttttf verse#hopper adopts steve#but make it sad#rambler writes#stranger things fic#hopper pov#lucas sinclair#The Party loves Steve
501 notes
·
View notes
Text
Not so tough now huh?
CRM!Rick
A/N: ok so I watched the first episode and I just felt the urge to write for him immediately. I couldn't resist... so here you sluts go! enjoy and happy reading!<33 This is also based on this moodboard made by the lovely @angelicalhqrt
Summary: You were tough but Rick was tougher and afterall, you were still just a horny girl...
Word count:2.0k
Pairing: crm!rick x fem!fighter!reader
Warnings: smut~fighting~sexual tension~readers tough but Ricks tougher~horny thoughts~lots of yearning and physical touch~PiV sex~unprotected sex~(wrap it b4 you tap it)~slight age gap { readers in her early 30s and Rick is mid 40s}
You and Rick didn't get along. Well, you guys got along but you didn't at the same time if that makes any sense at all.
You both couldn't stand each other yet always found yourselves around each other. It's like you were constantly drawn to him and as he was to you.
It seemed as if you guys had this mutual respect to leave each other alone but in this line of work, you guys were always around one another.
Especially now that Okafor has asked you and Rick to work together to re-shape the CRM. He wants the A's to be able to lead the CRM and change the way they do things. Lead the B's to stop being so scared.
Of course Rick was against it and was very confused. "I don't give a shit about this A's and B's shit Okafor. I'm not livin' here! I'm not happy here, I'm certainly not going to give my life for a place I can't leave. For a place and their bullshit secrets." He protests.
"Rick. You think you have a choice? Now that you joined and are no longer a consignee, I need you. You will do this because you shouldn't even be alive with how many times you've tried to escape. You and bullet over here are special assets to this plan and whether you like it or not, your doing this."
Bullet was the nickname he gave you because you shot at him and grazed his forehead after he tried to rescue you. You needed to get back to your sister, you didn't want to be taken by a strange man and taken to a strange secret city that no one knows about.
"Rick. Just stop fighting it. I learned to stop fighting it long time ago. We've been here for six years. It's time to let go. Whoever your trying to get to just forget it. There alive but in here we can die at the snap of Beales fingers. So please..." You plead looking at him with a stone cold face but a hint of sympathy and concern.
"Whatever." He says gruffly before listening to the rest of what Okafor was saying.
The next day you and Rick and all the other soldiers are training. Obviously yet again, you get partnered with Rick. Your spinning your knife in your hand as you look at him with a slight smirk on your face.
You lunged at him and he blocked it and when you tried again he turned you around and had his arm around your neck and your back to his chest. You feel his warm breath on your cheek.
Your wiggling against him and he grunts in your ear. You try to pry his hand off your neck and flip him over and down to the ground but it was true, he was tougher and much stronger than you.
He pushes you and lets you go. you stumble but turn around standing your ground and facing him with your knife in hand and fists up. You lunge back at him and cut his hand, the one that's still attached of course.
He groans and holds his wrist. "Fuck." He yells out and you smirk at him. "Wouldn't fighting be much easier if you didn't cut off your hand Mr. Grimes?" You say with a slight chuckle.
He quickly turns back and the punches you in your face. You stumble back and wipe the blood that's made its way to your lip.
"Wow. That was a hell of a good punch Grimes." You say smirking and licking your lips. "Thanks bullet." He says smirking at you with his signature look.
You roll your eyes and punch his chest and he tries to hit you again but your duck and serve him a nice right hook. He stumbles back and when you try to punch his face again he grabs your right fist and slowly brings it down twisting it and hurting your wrist.
When you try the other hand to catch him off guard he dodges it and knees you in your stomach before punching your ribs.
You cry out and he lets go of your hand as you grab at your side and stomach. You glare at him from your hunched over position and then you swiftly get down and swipe your leg under his making fall.
You get on top of him and punch him in the face. You see his nose bleeding and his cheek is starting to bruise. You punch once more before a guard yells at you enough.
You get off Rick and look around at everyone looking at you before you look back at Rick on the floor and you scoff before walking away and slamming the door as you walk out.
You take the wrappings aggressively off your hands as you walk to your room. 'At least you had rooms and comfy beds here', you thought.
Where you came from you had to make do with dusty comforters and blankets on the cold, hard floor of an old abandoned building.
At least you had your sister, now you have no clue where she is... Broken out of your thoughts you hear a knock on the door.
You ignore it the first time quietly muttering a go away. When the knocks happen again you groan and get up.
As you open the door your met with Rick pushing past you and rushing into your room.
He's got a patch on his eyebrow to close up his wound with the stitches and his cheekbone is now bruised a darker color then before. Even his hand is all bandaged up.
"What the hell was that huh? Why'd ya go all psyco on me? What did I do to you huh?" He says pacing the room as he thrashes his hands around.
"I did it... because I wanted to." You whisper as you step closer to him with a neutral look on your face. You were unfazed by his act at trying to intimidate you.
"Oh really huh?" He asks stepping real close to you. Suddenly you really notice how dark his eyes are.
Even in this piss poor lighting. He looked looming and scary. Your facade falters immediately as he backs you up against the door.
The tension in the room changing slightly from anger to something more intimate...more primal. It excited you yet scared you.
You really didn't know Rick like that at all. You don't know how crazy he is- I mean besides the fact he cut off his own hand.
Your thoughts began to drift at how he looks. His brown curls framing his face perfectly, his beard full, nice and clean with greys decorating it.
You looked at the outfit he was wearing. A tight black shirt that hugged his body in all the right places with black cargo pants.
He looked...hot. Intimidating.Sexy. Dominant...I mean there were many words to describe Rick. He brought something out of you that you didn't like. He made you excited and wet at the slightest touch.
This interaction bringing back memories to 3 days ago.
{Flashback}
"Rick! Wait up!" You call out to him.
He was walking down the street in his combat outfit.
"Wassup bullet?" He asked with that look in his eyes. 'God that look does things to me,' you thought.
He looked like he wanted to throw you against the wall and eat you.
"I-I wanted to say good luck out there. Okafor can be pushing and hard to deal with." You say with a closed lip smile.
He nods and looks you up and down before speaking, "Thanks for the luck. I assumed i'll be needin' it. Especially by you." He says smirking at you.
That's the moment you knew that he knew, that he knows he makes you nervous. He would make any girl nervous. Eyelashes fluttering at the sound of his rough southern drawl. Sounding all sexy and wise.
That deep voice and pretty smirk on his face. The way his eyes will trace your body and your face as if he's remembering every tiny detail about you like a robot.
You swallow hard and you swear he could hear your heart rapidly beating, 'God girl get it together!' You immediately nodded your head before walking off and leaving him to stand there.
He watched as you walked away all flustered and cute. He chuckled to himself as you looked back and watched him walk away now.
{end of flashback}
You look up at him as he looks down at you with a smirk. His head tilted slightly to the side.
"Whatcha thinking about sweetheart?" He asks with a smirk. You roll your eyes and scoff trying to act tough.
"Nothing Rick. Get out." You demanded as you pushed past him walking towards your bed.
You didn't notice he was silently following you and he ended up behind you with his crotch to your ass and his hands on your hips.
"Why don't you stop this tough act baby and lemme take you right here hmm mama? Would you like that instead? Fuck that attitude right outta ya?" He says in a low seductive voice.
Shivers ran down your back as he said that. His words repeating like a mantra in your head over and over again. You wanted so badly for him to take you right here.
"fuck, yea I want that real bad." You mutter and he smirks as he starts kissing your neck and behind you ear. He slides his pants down and rips his cock free from the bondage of his boxers.
He removes your pants leaving you in your panties. When he slowly removes your panties they reveal your soaked cunt.
"Fuck mama, your soaked." He says with a chuckle. You whimper and grind against him. "Please Rick...I need you i-inside." You whine.
He chuckles and without warning slides in. As much as he wants to tease you, he doesn't have the patience tonight. Maybe next time..
Just thinking about being able to fuck you like this again, his hips roughly thrusting into you as your eyes roll to the back of your head or cross at your nose made his cock twitch.
Just looking at your body exposed and vulnerable to him made his cock jump with excitement to be buried so deep inside you. He kissed and sucked at yor neck leaving hickies people will surely be asking about later.
He was proud to mark you up as his. You cry out and scream out as his cock brushes your cervix just right. His cock hitting that sweet spot inside you that had you shaking intensely when your orgasm rolled around.
"fuck Rick! I-I'm gonna c-cum Rick! Oh shit, please lemme cum!" You beg. He looked at you and pouted.
"You wanna cum babygirl? Hmm?" He asks tauntingly. You quickly shake your head yes as he shakes his head and clicks his tongue.
"Words baby. I need words." He said moving his hand up your chest slowly to lightly grip your throat.
You moan out as you grab his arm and your eyes roll back before you mutter out a little, "Yes Rick! I'm gonna cum, please?" You beg again hoping he has mercy on you.
"I'll allow you to cum but next time I won't be so nice babygirl." He says before thrusting into you with such force it makes your headboard thump against the wall.
You didn't want a noise complaint but the way your oragsm ripped through you, you honestly couldn't care.
"oh fuck!" Rick grunts out before he quickly pulls out and jerks off. You quickly scoot down and open your mouth for him to cum all on your face and tongue. You moan in pleasure as his warm seed spills all on your face.
When you swallow the amount that went into your mouth, you smile at him before licking the rest of by using your finger to apply it in your mouth.
He groans at the sight and he lifts you up placing you neatly and softly on your bed. Your so drunk off his cock that when he goes to try and get a warm cloth for you you grab his arm stopping him.
"Please stay with me. I don't wanna be alone... not tonight." You whisper. He smiles and nods before crawling his way into bed with you rubbing soft circles on your waist as you drift of to sleep.
Taglist: @dustbunniess @dollyfl1rt @rickswh0r3 @sinsandsweetness @justjasminne @itzdarling @versatilehater @aerangi @2svnder @keiva1000 @prettyluhdavis@hutchersonsgurl @grimesuniversexx @liliesdiary @writella
#rick grimes x reader#rick grimes smut#rick grimes fanfiction#rick grimes#the walking dead#twd rick#rick grimes twd#rick x you#rick x y/n#rick x reader#rick grimes the walking dead
354 notes
·
View notes
Text
🪽 if you go down 🪽
Azriel x Reader
part I part II
summary: when a mission goes awry in the cold mountains, things take a turn, and suddenly, there's a lot more at stake than planned.
notes: look who's back!! yours truly got knocked out by a flu sent straight from hell, which meant being buried in bed and no writing for what felt likes ages. and of course when I did write again, I did not focus on other WIPs - noooo, I started this! whoops *winces*. to be fair tho, parts of this had been sitting in my ideas-folder for quite some time and when I had a sudden epiphany on how to use them, I couldn't just ignore that. especially since that epiphany was so... steamy. *grins* I'm back on my bullshit, and it's a spicy one! strap yourselves in, babes. we've got incoming drama and smut. also, even after splitting the whole thing, this is still long.
______________________________________________________________
The whole thing had been a shit show even before Azriel got shot out of the sky.
Rhys had sent the Spymaster and me into the mountains, to track down a group of soldiers gone rogue that had somehow swerved into the icy wilderness of the Night Court, raiding the small villages and leaving a trail of chaos and bodies.
It was a simple track and eliminate situation; find the group, assess the situation, move in if possible and track and wait if not.
Of course that meant nothing about it was simple.
“Damn it,”, I hissed, feeling my body tremble as a gush of ice cold wind grasped me.
I squinted, trying to make out anything in the chaos of swirling thick snowflakes that stuck to my lashes and hair. My cheeks were stinging under my heavy hood, my fingers freezing even in my thickly lined gloves, my skin icy under my winter leathers that weren't enough even with a second layer beneath.
The snowed-in wilderness of the Night Court was an icy climate to begin with, hard to navigate even in good weather.
Nearly impossible in a snowstorm.
We'd lost track of the soldiers about two or three hours ago, the quick falling fresh snow covering every track within minutes, the wind destroying every trace of footsteps and scent. Even Azriel's shadows seemed to be confused, coming up empty in the snowed-in woods, like the soldiers had buried themselves to avoid detection.
I huffed, my breath a white cloud.
Wouldn't have surprised me. They were trained to stay undetected.
This was bullshit.
Raising my head, my squinted eyes darted over the grey sky, clouds of thick whirling snow over the dark pines almost conceiling the dark figure high in the sky.
Even though it was risky, Azriel had decided that trudging through the forest without quite knowing which way to go wouldn't do. He had also ignored my protest that he'd be visible like a fucking beacon up there, no cover anywhere.
I had seen the hard glare he'd sent me before launching into the air - he knew perfectly well that it was a dangerous move. But just like me, he was irritated.
Pairing us together probably hadn't been the best idea.
The shadowsinger and I always clashed. Where Azriel was cool and quiet, I was fiery and quick to charge. Where he scowled, I grinned in challenge, where his eyes pierced, mine twinkled. He was rational and controlled to no avail, and I was empathetic and following my heart. His quiet watchfulness annoyed the crap out of me, and my smirks and cheeky taunts made his eyes flare.
I egged him on, challenged him where I could, and he usually rose to the occasion, shooting right back with sharp, well placed jabs.
It didn't help that he was breathtakingly beautiful. That his low, deep voice sent tingling shivers down my spine. It was infuriating, really; how it could make the hairs at the back of my neck rise, how him towering over me made something dip over in my chest.
It was a constant back and forth between us, which had made pairing us together for a mission a risky move even before the storm had hit. Now, we'd lost the soliders, I was freezing, Azriel's shadows were frenzied and uncoordinated, like they were responding to their master's agitation –
All in all, it was a mess.
Shivering, I slowly started to trudge through the snow again. I needed to move, or I would turn into a fucking icycle.
Screw Azriel and his stern “Stay here.”; if I did, he could take me home as an ice statue.
The snow swallowed every noise, the howling wind making listening for treacherous footsteps even harder. I moved slowly and carefully, my brown leathers blending in with the tree trunks, but still far too visible in the white forest as I squinted against the onslaught of falling snow that covered my tracks within minutes.
Gods, in this weather, those bastards could be miles away by now and we wouldn't kno-
Something shivered down my spine.
My eyes darted up, and I felt something dip over in my stomach when a wave of dread washed over me - premonition, instinct; precise and never amiss.
The strange tingle of sudden knowledge that something was about to go terribly, awfully wrong.
My instincts were something that even Azriel couldn´t scoff away.
In over 300 years, they had never once been wrong.
I swung around, drawing my swords as my gaze darted over the snowed in forest in search for anything; a trembling branch, a moving figure –
My gaze rose, and my eyes found the dark silhouette high in the sky.
Everything seemed to slow, my breath coming out in heaving clouds as something swelled under my ribs.
Then an arrow whizzed through the sky and hit the dark shape square in the chest.
My heart stopped. Simply ceased beating as I felt my eyes widen and my lips part.
In complete silence, the winged figure wavered. Then more black shapes whizzed through the air like lightning, catching and ripping through his wings, and like slow motion, Azriel tipped to the side and began to drop through the sky, freefalling towards the earth.
My limbs unfroze. A jolt went through my body as a wave of all-consuming dread crashed over me, and breathing a panicked “No.”, I rushed forward. Plunging my swords back into their sheets, I dodged a low hanging branch, then I started running.
My feet flew over the snow-covered ground, clouds of white whirling up behind me as I dashed through the trees. My heart was pounding against my ribs as something seized my chest, something like a clawed fist, squeezing tighter and tighter as I ran. Stumbling over roots and slipping on the icy ground, I dodged branches, freezing deadly cold washing through my veines as I stormed through the woods.
No.
I stumbled out from between the trees onto a stony beach, almost tripping as I skidded to a halt.
In front of me, a huge lake stretched, dark and deep and silent.
Right in it's middle, the water was sloshing, silently throwing small waves, like something big had crashed into it.
For a moment, I felt frozen, a name filling my throat, threatening to spill out, but I couldn't, couldn't scream without drawing attention, couldn't yell out the panicked cry building in my chest –
Azriel.
Panic crushed my ribs, and without a thought, without a second of consideration or planning, I darted towards the shore.
The water soaked my boots within seconds as I splashed into the lake. Icy cold water hit my feet, spattering up my legs and almost causing my muscles to lock in place. But I fought forward, holding onto the pulsing fear in my chest as I pushed my legs to move. Then I dove into the waves.
For a moment, the water seemed to freeze the blood in my veines. My lungs closed up, cold gripping my body. Then my head broke through the surface, the air hot in comparison to the icy water as I started to swim.
Something gripped my chest like an iron fist as I fought my way through the cold water. It was so deep, so dark, I couldn't see the ground, could only focus on that spot in the middle of the lake where the water was slowly beginning to calm.
Azriel had still not come up for air.
Something rose in my chest, gripped my throat, and I pushed, my skin burning with cold as I tried to swim faster, my arms and legs cleaving through the icy waves in powerful strokes. Then I sucked in a deep breath and dove under.
The water was so dark, I could barely see a few feet. Pushing myself deeper, feeling my wet clothes pull at me, my eyes darted through the depths until I spotted a huge shape floating below me. Shadows were slowly swirling around it, almost serenly, reaching out towards me like soft, gentle hands.
Something tightened violently in my chest, and I pushed myself up.
My head broke through the surface, and I gasped for air as the ice cold wind stung my wet cheeks. Breathing in deeply, I filled my lungs. Then I dove again.
The icy water enveloped me like hands pulling at me, like ghostly fingers numbing my skin as I started to swim into the deep. My body was burning as I fought my way through the stinging cold towards the far away bottom of the lake where Azriel was being gently swayed by the water, his wings stretched out and body limp, eyes closed.
My heart pulsed painfully.
Shit.
My lungs were beginning to protest as I reached out, feeling the pressure on my body pushing me as I grasped at nothingness. Then my fingers closed around Azriel's shoulders, and something dipped in my chest. I slipped an arm around his collarbones, feeling coolness sweep around me as his shadows pushed me upwards towards the light.
My chest was constricting as I fought myself upwards, black spots beginning to dance at the edge of my vision, and I tried to fight the panic, push forward -
My face broke through the surface, and I gasped for air, my fingers digging deeper into Azriel's shoulders as I hauled him up and into my chest, his face coming out of the water. The ice cold air stung my lungs and skin, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Azriel's tall, solid body completely motionless.
“Shit.” Gripping him tighter, I turned, frantically trying to catch sight of the beach. For a second, I couldn't find it, feeling panic slosh through me. Then I caught a glimpse of black stone strip in the distance.
“No, no, come on.” Shaking, I began to fight my way through the sloshing waves. Azriel's wings dragged through the water, making him even heavier and pulling him down. Water sloshed over his face, and I tried to tug him up, my eyes beginning to burn and a desperate sound breaking from my throat as my muscles protested.
Come on.
It felt like hours until I reached the shore. I was shivering uncontrollably as I pushed myself to my feet, my knees shaking as I dragged Azriel out of the water, his wings scraping over the stony ground. His shadows whispered as I dropped him, falling to my knees next to him.
“Az?!” My voice was hoarse and panicked as I pressed my fingers against his neck and felt my heart skip once before stilling.
He wasn't breathing.
“No, no, no, come on!” An ache spread through my chest, and with widening eyes, I slid forward, beginning to press my hands down on his lungs in a quick, steady rhythm, my whole body shaking as my heart pounded in my throat.
“Come on,”, I whispered frantically, “come on –“
Water sloshed out of Azriel's mouth, his body rearing up as he coughed out lake water.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I hastily pushed against his body, turning him onto his side and patting firmly onto his back.
Azriel inhaled harshly, his breath rattling. His body was shaking under my fingers, and something tightened violently in my chest when I felt him slump against me.
With shaking hands, I turned him onto his back again, leaning forward to slap his cheek. “Azriel. Azriel, fucking look at me!”
Whispering curses under my breath, I stared at the ash arrow in his chest, feeling my heart pound. I couldn't take it out, not here, not without anything to stop the bloodflow, not without risking him loosing too much blood. His wings needed healing as well, the rips in the thin membrane too big, too broad.
“Shit, shit, shit,”, I whispered hoarsely, throwing my head up to look around wildly. I couldn't stay here, or we'd freeze, and with our luck, the soldiers were heading this way, just to check on whether they had actually hit their target.
We needed shelter.
“Alright, come on.” Scrambling to get to my feet, I grabbed Azriel's wrist, his body dead weight as I slid his arm over my shoulder and dragged him to his feet. His wings slumped towards the ground, and I clenched my teeth, wrapping my arm tightly around his waist and firmly nudging my shoulder into his side.
“You're not giving up, you hear me?” My body was trembling from cold and adrenaline as I started to stumble towards the treeline, half dragging, half carrying Azriel with me. “You're going to hold on until I find a safe place; you're not going to leave me!” My voice quivered.
“I need you to glare at me and call me stupid for putting myself in danger, and I need you to be a stuck up idiot so I can kick your stupid beautiful ass for it!” My voice broke, and I cursed myself, raising my head and blinking against the stubborn burning sensation in my eyes as I breathed shakily. “You're not going to die on me; you're not going to die!”
The snow made getting forward difficult. Soon, my knees were shaking under Azriel's weight, and I could feel his rattling breath against my soaking wet hair, becoming flatter. His body shivered like mine, like it was fighting against the icy winds ripping at us, howling as the snowfall became heavier. At least it would cover our tracks and mask our scents.
I nearly stumbled over a root hidden in the snow, and something in my chest clenched.
If we didn't find shelter soon, Azriel would be dead by morning.
Something hot and flaming rose in my chest, and I clenched my teeth, adrenaline surging through my body.
No fucking way.
“Come – on,”, I pressed, gripping him tighter and fighting against the cold stinging my whole body, numbing my skin as I dragged the shadowsinger with me. “You're not getting away that easily, you hear me?”
For once, I wish I would get back a cutting, precise remark. But Azriel just rasped a flat breath, his body sinking heavier on mine. Panic washed over me, tightening its grip around my chest.
Shit.
The wind howled around us. Every crack of a branch when the weight of the snow got too heavy made my head whip around, my eyes darting frantically through the trees. But I couldn't see a soul, could only hear the sound of crunching snow under our feet and our heavy breathing. My mind was racing while I dragged Azriel through the snow.
The arrows had come from the opposite side of the lake, probably from quite a bit inside the forest. If they wanted to check if they had hit their target, they would have reached the lake by now, but the quick falling snow had masked all our tracks.
Hopefully.
They would hardly check the lake for a body, so if they didn't find one washed onto the shore, maybe we had a chance. Maybe if we found a spot to hide, wait out the storm and I got Azriel at least half back on his feet, he'd be able to transport us back to Velaris, and we could send reinforcements to find the soldiers.
For some reason, the thought wasn't nearly as satisfying as the heat twisting and raging in my chest, urging me to hunt them down myself. And sink my knives into the bastard who had dared firing those arrows.
The image kept me going, fed my numbing, chattering body with a grim, burning fire that wasn't warming but gave me something to cling to, hold onto as I staggered through the snow.
That and the male I half dragged, half carried, his body becoming heavier with the second. It caused a desperate tremble in my limbs.
There was no way I was going to lose him, no way I wasn't going to push until my legs gave out, and even then, I would curl over him if I had to, protect his far too tall body with mine, give him the last bit of warmth that was burning in my chest.
It was either the both of us leaving this stupid forest, or neither of us, because there was no way I was going to leave him. Even if his beautiful, dumb, rational ass would tell me to –
My eyes got caught on a dark structure ahead, flashing between the dark trees, almost obscured by clouds of whirling snow.
My heart tumbled, and I exhaled shakily, feeling my eyes widen as I tightened my grip around Azriel's waist and started lugging him forward.
The thrum in my chest began to quicken when I caught a glimpse at what looked like a simple wooden cabin. It was probably nothing more than one big room inside, with small windows and closed shutters, the porch covered in a thick layer of snow that the wind had blown past the protruding roof – but it made my heart rise in a wild flutter and my limbs melt from their frozen state.
The cabin looked empty, no light peaking out from the shutters, the snow high and unmarked around it. I dragged Azriel to the front door and felt my heart dip.
The door had been opened by force. It looked like someone had kicked it in, and when I leaned forward, breathing heavily, I caught a glimpse at an empty, slightly trashed inside. Judging by the thick layer of snow that had covered the entrance, the raid had happened more than a few hours ago, maybe even already last night.
My heart fluttered and jumped into my throat.
That meant the soldiers had already been this way, had probably reached the lake from this side before moving to the other to disappear deeper into the mountains.
If we were lucky, that meant they wouldn't come past here again, clearly already done searching for valuables in this place.
Unless they had a reason to, they wouldn't just backtrack and risk running into the people hunting them.
I nearly stumbled, lugging Azriel up the steps to the porch. We almost got stuck in the door, and I had to slide my arms around him to pull him through sideways to not hurt his wings. Then I looked over my shoulder, breathing heavily as I quickly scanned over the inside of the cabin.
It was one big room, with a fireplace and a bed covered in furs on the left, a big table and shelves on the right. The air smelled ice cold but stale, like no one had been here for quite some time. The cabinets had been thrown open, but nothing but cups and bowls were scattered over the floors, the bottles and jars in the shelves untouched. The sight made my heart skip high.
Maybe I had a chance of mixing something for Azriel's wounds together from that.
“Alright, come on.” Dragging Azriel towards the table, I heaved him onto the top, my limbs shaking from his weight. Minding his wings, I turned him onto his back, hastily checking his pulse before turning around and darting towards the door. Kicking most of the snow out onto the porch, I threw it shut, bolting it and using one of the chairs to block the handle just to be sure.
Now, the cabin lay in almost complete darkness. Outside, it seemed to already get darker, the thick clouds and the snow storm that only seemed to get heavier darkening the woods even quicker.
My teeth were chattering as I darted towards the shelves, my trembling fingers skimming over the bottles and tinctures, dried herbs and berries in jars. I found some candles in a drawer and matches in another, and setting them up in holders around the cabin, I lit them, my breath shaking as warm, golden light filled the room. Now that I wasn't moving, I felt the cold clinging to me even more, numbing my limbs.
We needed to warm up, quick.
But first, I had to take care of that arrow.
I had never been more thankful for Madja.
My fingers flew over the pestle and mortar I had found in the shelves, grinding up berries, mixing them with herbs, honey and fresh snow. I heard the old healer's voice in my head as I worked, explaining how to best treat wounds caused by ash arrows, how to make the paste that would help the naturally quicker healing of an Illyrian.
Provided the arrow had not injured any vital organs.
The thought made something dip over in my chest, and I threw a quick look over my shoulder to where Azriel was laying still on the big wooden table, his breathing far to flat, the white of his eyes visible under his fluttering eyes. His tanned skin was pale.
Snatching some bandages I had found in the back of a cabinet, I turned around, dropping the mortar on an empty chair next to the bandages and some clean fabrics I had found in the chest next to the bed. My fingers were trembling as I undid the buckles of Azriel'ss chest armor, the heavy leathers pierced by the arrow. His clothes were soaked and clammy like mine, and his skin was icy to the touch, so much so that I flinched.
Shit.
Breathing out, I closed my hand around the arrow, my breath shaking as I pressed my free arm down onto Azriel's chest.
“I'm so sorry,”, I whispered.
Azriel gave a gargled sound when I pulled the arrow from his chest, twisting in the spot. I tried to hold him down, squeezing my eyes shut as the arrow clattered to the floor and I hastily pressed some of the cloth onto the wound that gushed blood, though it looked a lot less than it maybe should be.
Godsdamned cold.
Hastily, I dragged Azriel's leathers off his torso, dropping the soaking material to the ground as I caught the blood with the cloth, pressing it down. My body was trembling as I waited, then I peaked at the wound - the bleeding was already slowing down.
I prayed it was Azriel's healing that caused it, not the cold shutting down his bloodflow.
Spreading the thick paste over the wound, I picked up the needle and thread I had found in a drawer and held the sharp tip into the flame of a candle before pulling the thread through it. My fingers trembled, and I needed three tries until it was looped through the needle.
Azriel twitched when I started stitching the wound together, my needlework a lot less clean than Madja's, but I was shaking too hard. My eyes darted towards Azriel's face constantly, my heart dropping deeper every time I caught a glimpse at the white of his eyes peaking out from under his lids. It felt like he was wandering somewhere between concious and unconcious, twitching and groaning softly at the pain, but too far away to open his eyes or gather anything about his surroundings.
Tying off the string, I grabbed the bandages. It took all my strength to pull Azriel up, his wings dragging him down as I wrapped the white gauze around his ribs tightly, my arms shaking.
I was sweating when I finally carefully put him down again, my cold, wet clothes sticking to my skin and making my teeth chatter.
I needed to get out of these leathers or I would catch something worse than death.
But Azriel's wings were first.
The thin membranes had been shredded by the sharp tips of the arrows, blood crusting the gaping cuts. I cleaned them, whispering trembling apologies whenever Azriel shifted and gave slurred, pained sounds that sunk their own sharp claws into my chest. Carefully stitching them together in the way Madja had showed me once, I spread more paste on the wounds, thick enough to cover them from both sides.
Hopefully, it would speed up the healing process.
Pressing my hand onto Azriel's cheek, I cursed under my breath. He was icy cold, his skin clammy.
I had to get him warmed up. Now.
My eyes darted over to the fireplace, then to the windows, and a knot formed in my throat.
Even though it was getting darker by the minute, the smoke of a fire could still give away our location, even with the storm.
I turned back towards the shadowsinger, who's hair was curling with dampness and melted snow, his torso bare, his wet pants clinging to his legs.
I needed to get him out of those; he didn't have a chance of warming up when he was still wearing the damp, clammy clothes.
Which meant stripping him.
Even though I was chattering with cold, I felt heat bleed into my cheeks.
“Gods, get yourself together,”, I mumbled to myself, moving forward and beginning to unbuckle the sheaths wrapped around Azriel's thighs. I tried to avoid looking at him; his chiselled torso, the smooth curve and width of his shoulders, the ink swirling over the planes of his chest, tried to not think about the rising feeling in my chest that came to life whenever his amber eyes settled on me for too long.
Letting the daggers slip to the floor, I unlaced Azriel's boots, cursing softly at how stiff my fingers were. I could barely feel them as I tugged the black leather off before turning around, blaming the cold for my trembling limbs and for my inability to unbuckle his belt on the first try. Then, stubbornly not staring at his bare skin, I tugged his pants down his legs. They were soaked like the rest of his clothes, making it difficult to tug the thick winter leathers off his skin.
Dropping the pants, I felt the heat in my cheeks deepen and quickly averted my eyes, sliding my arm around Azriel's waist and grunting softly when I maneuvered him off the table.
“Alright, come on.” Staggering slightly, I tried to ignore the weight of his muscled body as it leaned heavily onto mine, the feeling of his harsh breath, his lips brushing over my temple and his skin smooth and cool against my fingers.
It proved impossible.
Somehow, I managed to get Azriel under the covers. Turning him onto his sides so his wings weren't in the way, I tucked him under the blanket and threw the furs over, shivering as I turned around and spread out his dripping wet, icy cold clothes over the chairs. My own were beginning to feel like they'd been frozen by the snow and wind, and when I caught a look at myself in one of the windows, I felt my heart drop at the sight of my slightly blue lips.
Crap.
Quickly throwing a quick look over to where Azriel was laying on the bed, buried under the furs, still breathing too harsh, too uneven, I turned around again, feeling something thump harshly against my ribs. Then I swallowed and quickly started peeling off my own clothes.
My leathers stuck to my skin, completely wet and clammy, and I hissed in frustration as I kicked off my thick pants. Suddenly, I realised how cold the air in the cabin really was, making my limbs shake even more as I rubbed my stiff fingers over my thighs before quickly spreading my clothes over the rest of the furniture. Then I hesitated, looking down at the bra and top I was wearing over my underwear, both sticking to my skin, making goosebumps rise on my body.
I needed to get them off, but if I did – I was practically completely bare.
For a second, I was still, just breathing quickly and feeling myself shiver. Then I cursed softly and quickly shed both the undershirt and the bra, throwing them over the backrest of a chair. Crossing my arms quickly over my chest to cover myself, I turned around, my eyes getting caught on Azriel's frame. He had started to shiver violently.
I felt the overwhelming urge to grab one or two of the furs and curl up on the armchair by the cold fireplace. But I could feel the icy cold seep through me, now settled in my bones, could feel myself grow number.
Staring at Azriel's trembling form for another second, I whispered a curse under my breath, then I darted towards the bed and slid under the blankets.
Immediately, my body started shivering more. It felt like now that I wasn't moving anymore, the cold invaded every inch of me, causing my teeth to chatter loudly as I curled up on my side under the heavy furs, my damp hair sticking to my bare skin as I stared at Azriel's face in the warm flicker of the candles. He looked too pale, his breath too labored.
Swallowing, I scooted closer under the blankets until I could feel his body, just shy of touching my curled up form. Then I forced myself to relax, to stop the shivering, focusing on Azriel´s face, the crunch of his brows, like even unconcious, he was fighting, angry.
The thought made my lips twitch softly.
Curling up tighter, I buried myself in the sheets and breathed out. Suddenly, the exhaustion crashed over my like a wave, my limbs burning not only from the cold but from dragging Azriel through the water and the snow. My eyes drooped, and I had to fight to keep them open, clenching my jaw.
I couldn't fall asleep, I had to stay awake enough to listen for anything. To, for once, keep watch over Azriel, in case anything, anyone found us after all.
But the woods outside were quiet except for the howling wind.
I dozed off a few times. I didn't fall into a deep sleep, my body too cold, my heart beating too quickly, my ears too sensitive to any sound coming from beyond the windows, where the world became darker and darker. But the exhaustion soon overwhelmed me, and my body took what minutes of shut-eye it could pry from the grip of my will. The rest of the time, I stared at Azriel's face in the light of the candles, something thrumming heavily against my ribs.
Please be okay.
I was slowly slipping away into a deeper sleep when the mattress jerked. My eyes flew open, and my heart skipped into my throat when I found another pair staring right at me.
Azriel's eyes were blown as his gaze slowly tracked over the sliver of my bare shoulders and collarbones visible from where the furs had slipped from his abrupt waking. Then his throat worked, and I could see the moment he seemed to tear himself out of it, could see the confused but soft, slightly feverish expression bleed from his eyes as his iris narrowed in and darkness settled over his face.
A muscle in his jaw shifted, and Azriel tore his gaze up, eyes flaring as they pierced into mine.
He didn't need to open his mouth for me to know exactly what was going on in his head.
Explain. Now.
I breathed out and dropped my head onto the pillow, mumbling: “Calm down.” Curling tighter into the furs wrapping around me and trying to keep my teeth from chattering, I grumbled: “This wasn't exactly how I imagined this whole thing going either.” Trying to ignore the heat bleeding into my cheek, I watched him, my voice becoming softer when I mumbled: “You fell into a lake when they shot you down.”
Azriel blinked, and his eyes found my hair that was still damp and cold, sticking to my neck. His pupils constricted, and something flared in his eyes.
“You pulled me out.”
His voice sent a tingle down my spine, low and deep, so deep, hoarse with exhaustion but cutting, his eyes blazing with something I didn't recognize.
I shrugged softly, pulling the blankets tighter around me as I sent him a smile that wasn't half as mischievous as usual.
“Yes, well, I thought about how much you would hate me doing that and just couldn't resist. You know how I like to push your buttons.”
Azriel's jaw twitched, and something burning grew in his eyes as they pierced mine.
I felt my lips twitch in a weak attempt at a cheeky smirk. “That would be the moment to thank me for saving your life.”
Azriel's eyes narrowed, and I could see the muscles in his cheeks shift. “You exposed yourself, left yourself defenseless. That was reckless and stupid.”
His voice was cutting, icy, but I just stared at him, feeling something hot bloom in my chest as my heart skipped high against my ribs.
I blinked and felt my lips curve softly.
“You're welcome.” I turned to slide of the mattress, shivering as my bare feet hit the cold floors. Wrapping the furs around me, I dropped onto my knees next to the fireplace, reaching out to close my fingers around my pants. The leather was icy cold and wet.
“Damn it,”, I whispered under my breath.
I looked over my shoulder and found Azriel's eyes on my face, something raging in his iris, something I didn't recognize.
“What?” My gaze flickered over his face, something skipping softly against my ribs. Then I blinked and looked him over, feeling my lips curve into a cheeky smirk. “Don´t worry. I didn't look anywhere important.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Azriel's eyes dip towards his bare chest, and if I hadn't known any better, I thought I saw a faint blush spread over his cheekbones. Then he tore his eyes away and clenched his jaw.
“You left yourself completely defenseless.”
I turned back around, staring at the fireplace as I felt the smile bleed off my face.
“Yes, well, I wasn't exactly thinking,”, I mumbled, something tightening harshly in my chest.
Even from the corner of my eye, I saw Azriel's gaze flare incredulously, his deep voice slicing through me.
“Not thinking gets you killed.”
I swallowed. My heart thrummed against my ribs as the moment I had watched Azriel fall flashed before my eyes.
“What if the soldiers had been at the lake, what if they'd gotten there by the time you came out of the water?” Azriel's jaw clenched, his voice tight, unrelenting. “You didn't think, and it could have cost you your life –“
“What do you care; if I hadn't made it, you wouldn't have either, but we did; what's your problem?!” I turned to stare at him, my breath hitching as an ache spread through my chest, and shadows whipped up the walls as Azriel growled.
“How can you be so reckless when it comes to your own fucking life –“
Something under my ribs shattered.
“I thought I'd lost you!!”
My desperate scream caused Azriel to fall silent like I had slapped him across the face.
I stared at him, breathing heavily, my body trembling as I barely fought the burning feeling of tears behind my eyes.
“You asshole!” My voice was shaking even though I didn't want it to, a bright aching feeling burning in my chest, flaring like that flicker in Azriel's eyes.
“I saw you fall, and then that stupid lake and I thought –“ My voice broke as I stared at him, an all-consuming pain growing under my ribs.
“You were drowning.” My hands trembled, my throat closing up tight as I blinked against the tears threatening to spill over my cheeks. “I wasn't thinking about anything but that, and that there was no fucking way I was going to let it happen! And you're a fucking jerk for berating me for it, just because what I did doesn't fit with your strategic expectations, or because you think it was reckless, when I thought I had lost you!” My next breath shuddered as I stared at him, my limbs trembling.
Azriel's throat worked as his eyes pierced mine, but for once, he was completely silent.
“You think that it was stupid? That it was reckless and emotional?” I felt heat grow in my chest; familiar, angry heat, and I scrambled to push myself to my feet, glaring at him as I trembled.
“Well, I don't give a shit about what you think! I would have dragged you through that stupid snowstorm until my legs gave out, even if it meant freezing in the end!” I balled my hands into fists. “There's no fucking way I would have ever left you!” Blinking against the tears gathering in my eyes, I swallowed, staring at him.
“Because that's the next thing you would have said, right?” I breathed a bitter smile, something tightening harshly in my chest. “That the rational thing would have been for me to leave you behind? That there was no way I could have carried you until I found a village, let alone all the way back to Velaris? That pulling you out of that lake and taking you with me meant leaving myself defenseless, to those bastards and that fucking cold out there, and that I should have never done that?” I fought the way my breath hitched and tears pricked my eyes as I glared at him. “I don't give a shit about all of that. Because I don't give up. I don't give people up, and I sure as hell never leave anyone behind, especially –“ I cut myself off, biting the inside of my cheek.
Especially not you.
I swallowed and curled my fingers into the fur wrapped around me as I returned Azriel's blazing stare, even as something closed around my throat, causing my voice to sound hoarse as I mumbled: “I would have rather frozen to death with you than leave you behind.”
Azriel blinked again. His jaw worked as his eyes flickered over my face, and something flashed through them. But I turned away before I could find out what it was, my chest tightening as I angrily wiped away the tear that rolled over my cheek, treacherous and letting on that maybe, I gave quite a shit after all.
“Our clothes are still too wet.” My voice was thick and a little shaky, but I refused to look at Azriel as I stared at my pants before turning my eyes towards the windows, behind which, the woods were completely dark.
“Without warmth, it's going to take too long for them to dry. And your body's too focused on keeping you from freezing to properly heal you, so you need to warm up.” I started pulling logs from the stack of firewood next to the fireplace, mumbling hoarsely: “Let's hope it's dark and windy enough that no one can trace the smoke.”
I could feel Azriel's eyes on me as I built and stoked the fire, my fingers trembling not from the cold. Something was constricting in my chest, rage towards this stubborn male swirling under my ribs, mixed with something aching and fluttering that made my heart quiver.
I stoked the fire until I could feel the warmth of the flames on my face. Shivering, I wrapped the furs tighter around me.
Just the thought of being close to Azriel caused something to tighten harshly in my chest. But I could feel cold crawl up from the floorboards, and the desire not to freeze was stronger than the one that told me stay away from the male on the bed.
Pushing myself back onto my feet, I turned around and, without looking at Azriel, slid back under the covers. Turning my back towards the shadowsinger, I curled up, my limbs trembling with cold and something else that had closed tightly around my chest.
I could feel Azriel shift behind me, slowly moving back under the blankets. I tucked myself in tighter, my teeth chattering softly.
The flames in the fireplace started to crackle slowly. I stared at their light dancing over the floorboards, tried to ignore the presence right behind me. But I couldn't ignore his scent, night chilled cedar mixed with the metallic scent of blood, and how it made something twinge in my chest. My mind kept looping back towards the fact that if I shifted back just a few inches, my body would press into hi-
“You're shaking.”
The low vibration of Azriel's voice trickled over my spine. It was deep and clipped, and I pressed my lips together.
“Yes, well, I'm cold.” I tried to scowl, but my voice sounded weak, not at all angry or sharp like I had hoped it would be.
Swallowing, I stared at the light of the fire dancing over the walls. I could feel Azriel's stare piercing the back of my head, could sense the tension in his jaw and body –
The mattress shifted, then I felt something brush against my back.
I froze.
Scarred, calloused skin gently grazed over my side, and my breath hitched, getting caught in my throat.
Azriel's fingers curled against my skin, like he was hesitating, thinking about pulling back, or not quite in control of his own body – then his hand splayed over my skin, slowly sliding down onto my stomach, and carefully, Azriel pulled me backwards into his chest.
My heart dipped. Then it stilled.
I could feel Azriel shift behind me, could feel the tension rippling through every part of his muscles. His hand slid over my stomach, skin cold against mine as he slowly wrapped his arm around my waist and pressed me into his chest.
Suddenly, something twinged between my legs and in my heart.
I could feel every ridge of his torso in my back. Every curve of muscle, every inch of smooth, icy cold skin pressing against mine. His legs came up to thread through mine, and his tall, solid body slowly curled around me until there was no place we weren't touching.
Swallowing harshly, I stared at the light of the fire dancing over the walls, my breath fluttering in my throat and my heart pounding against my ribs. I could feel every shift of muscle in Azriel's body, could feel the tension in his chest as he tightened his grip around me. Then he carefully dropped his forehead against the back of my head and gently tapped his fingers against my ribs six times.
My breath hitched, and my heart stilled.
The tapping thing was something between Mor and I, to communicate when were in the same room but not able to talk to each other. I hadn´t even realised Azriel knew about it, but - of course he did.
He always knew.
One tap meant I'm here, two taps danger, three taps you okay?, four taps need a distraction, five taps for they're lying, and six taps -
Something rose in my chest in a wild flutter.
I´m sorry.
I swallowed and stared at the wall.
Azriel's hand was still for a second, and I could feel the tension ripple through him. Then his fingers gently tapped against my skin again.
One, two, three. Four, five, six, seven.
Behind you.
My heart swelled in a weak, trapped giggle.
For a moment, I hesitated. Then I slowly twisted around under the blankets, and my breath hitched in my throat when my eyes found Azriel's only a few inches away.
My head settled on the pillow. The fire crackled as I swallowed softly and stared, and Azriel's iris shifted as he stared back. His eyes looked less stormy, glinting like molten caramel in the warm flickering lights as they pierced mine.
Slowly, his fingers brushed over my bare spine.
I barely suppressed a shudder, my lips parting, and Azriel's eyes dropped. His pupils expanded, and something flared in his eyes.
A muscle in his jaw shifted, then he mumbled, his voice quiet and rough: “After pulling me out of the lake, did you call me a stuck up idiot?”
My breath hitched in my throat, and my eyes darted up to meet his as they widened a little. But Azriel just stared at me, and behind that strange blazing fire in his eyes, it almost looked like they were twinkling a little.
“No,”, I whispered and blinked, and just for a second, the corner of Azriel's lips twitched. His gaze pierced mine.
“You also called me beautiful.”
I stared at him, something fluttering wildly against my ribs when I mumbled back hoarsely: “No, I called you stupid.”
Azriel's eyes flared, the gold in his iris melting together as his gaze dragged over my face.
Swallowing, I tore my eyes away before the fluttering thing in my chest could break free. Dropping my head a little, I reached out before I could stop myself and carefully brushed my fingers over the bandage wrapped around Azriel's ribs.
A deep sound broke from his throat, and my breath got caught in my throat as my eyes darted up again, just in time to see a muscle in Azriel's jaw twitch, his pupils blown as he stared at me.
“You're freezing.” Something dipped over in my chest at the rasp in his tight voice, and I swallowed and stared up at him.
“I could think of some ways to warm up.”
It was supposed to be a cheeky taunt. But it came out breathless when I felt Azriel's scarred hand brush slowly over my bare skin.
Azriel's fingers stilled. There was something in his eyes as he stared at me, that strange blazing flicker I had seen before, something raging and all-consuming that seeped through his carefully crafted walls.
A muscle in Azriel's jaw shifted as his gaze dragged over my face. Then his hand brushed up over my ribs, rising from under the blanket.
His rough skin against my neck made me shiver, a tremble running down my spine that suddenly had nothing to do with being cold when his fingers slipped into my hair. They threaded through the strands, and I felt my next breath shudder when his thumb slowly traced over the side of my throat.
Azriel's eyes moved slowly over mine, and that look in his eyes flashed, grew stronger. Then he lightly tugged me forward, and when I followed, my breathing growing shorter, he dipped his head.
His nose brushed against mine, and I reached up like reflex, my fingers trembling a little when I wrapped them around Azriel's wrist as his hot breath hit my lips.
Azriel stilled, fingers still threaded through my hair, lips nothing but a breath away from mine. I thought I could feel his lashes on my cheeks, the heat of his pulse under my fingers. Something was thrumming under my ribs, growing stronger with every second.
I sucked in a soft, trembling breath when I realised he was waiting.
The thrum in my chest grew unbearable, and I moved, dipping my head and pressing my lips slowly against Azriel's jaw.
His fingers curled into my hair, muscles shifting under my hand wrapped around his wrist, and I thought I felt something rumble in his chest.
I slid lower. My lips traced over the shape of his throat, feeling it work under the featherlight press of a kiss against the side of it. My teeth grazed over his skin, and Azriel's fingers scraped lightly over my scalp when a grunt escaped his chest that sounded a little strangled.
Dipping my head, I carefully pressed my lips onto the curve where his neck met his shoulder, and my heart rose, flaring.
I hadn't known the taste of someone's skin could do this – make you feel drunk off of it, cause a rush to fill your body, make your skin tingle and heart race.
Tracing the shape of Azriel's collarbone with my lips, I left a slow, careful kiss on his cool, inked skin before following the shape of his chest. My hand slid lower, and I felt the thrum of his heart under my palm, quick and erratic. It made my own swerve sharply, and Azriel's breath shuddered when I dragged my lips over his smooth skin.
Looking up at him through my lashes, I felt something jolt right down into my lower stomach, my own breath hitching and something hot rushing through my chest when my eyes met Azriel's, fixed onto my face, the amber flickering in the light of the fire, pupils blown. His jaw worked, and my spine tingled.
Slowly sliding down his body, I traced my lips over his chest. Leaving slow, careful kisses on the swirls of his tattoo, the silver lines of faded scars, I felt his muscles shift and flex under my featherlight touches. My fingers brushed over the bandage wrapped around his ribs, and a sound left Azriel that caused my heart to tilt over when I carefully pressed a kiss onto the spot where the arrow had pierced him.
Somewhere buried deep in my head, the thought stirred that this didn't feel like it was just about warming each other up.
Not with the way Azriel was staring down at me, something flaring in his darkened eyes, his breath out of rhythm, his body reacting to the smallest brush of my fingers with a shudder like it was the answer to a long lost prayer.
My lips traced over the hard ridges of Azriel's stomach. Following the lines, I felt his muscles shift and clench beneath his smooth skin when I pressed my lips slowly against his side, my tongue tracing lightly over his skin, and Azriel's hand fell out of my hair to grab onto the sheets. His knuckles turned white as I slid down, and something curled and tightened in my lower stomach when I traced my lips over the sharp line disappearing into his underwear.
Azriel's hips bucked upward, and a low, pressed grunt left him that caused tingling warmth to wash over me, my stomach twisting.
I gently nudged my nose against his skin, then I raised my head, and something rose in my chest in a wild flutter when my eyes met Azriel's, his jaw locked as his gaze burned into mine until something closed around my throat and I barely kept myself from swallowing.
Slowly, I shifted. Then I slung my leg over his waist.
Azriel's pupils seemed to grow darker, and without looking away, feeling that steady thrum in my throat, I slid down his body.
The sheets and furs went with me, but Azriel didn't seem to notice. His eyes were transfixed on my face. Then my hand slid under his waistband, and his expression slipped, jaw going lax and eyes fluttering when I wrapped my fingers around his cock.
Slowly pulling him out of his pants, I felt something dip and plunge in my lower stomach at how hard he already was. Swallowing, I carefully ran my thumb over his tip, coaxing a low curse from him. Then I looked up through my lashes and sent Azriel a small, cheeky smile.
“Tell me if I'm doing something you don't like.”
The shadowsinger's eyes flashed as a choked sound left him, and I dipped my head and wrapped my lips around him.
“Fuck.”
A breathy grunt broke from Azriel's chest, his head fell back as his hands fisted the sheets, and I gently ran my tongue over the underside of his cock before sucking him into my mouth.
Incoherent sounds spilled from Azriel's lips, deep grunts and rough muttered curses that made my stomach twinge as I started to stroke him slowly. His blazing eyes were dragging over my face, the muscles in his stomach twitching as my hand worked what my lips couldn't reach, my tongue running over the underside of his cock as I took him deep, beginning to suck.
“That's it.” Azriel's hands fisting the sheets trembled as he grunted breathlessly, his throat working and eyes squeezing shut for a second like he was trying to reign himself in, but the words stumbled past his lips, deep and gravelly.
“Fuck, just like that.”
My heart swerved sharply as I drank him in, his cheeks flushed, hair dishevelled and body heaving the longer I worked him. I twisted my hand a little, and he grunted, head falling back and hips bucking. I could feel him pulse, could tell he was getting closer, closer to that edge, his breath shuddering.
Azriel groaned. His fingers slid into my hair, threading through the strands and beginning to guide me, like he just couldn't help himself anymore, had to touch me, his grip tight as his flashing eyes followed my movements. My teeth grazed the underside of his head, and Azriel grunted, his voice strangled.
“If you don't stop I'll -“
I looked up at him through my lashes and sent him a crooked, cheeky smile that made him break off with a grunt. Then I swirled my tongue around his tip and sucked him into my mouth, and Azriel unravelled with a sound so deep, it vibrated through my very bones.
His head fell back, his back arched and his hips bucked, and Azriel came with a shudder. His load hit the back of my throat, and I swallowed it all, the salty taste causing my eyes to flutter.
Sucking gently for a few more seconds, I slowly let him go, gently brushing my thumb over his base, and my eyes met Azriel's, flickering amber in the firelight, his skin glowing with a thin layer of sweat as his burning eyes dragged over my face. His grip tightened in my hair, and he tugged, pulling me up his body.
My breath hitched when our noses brushed. Azriel's eyes looked like molten gold in the light, the flecks all swimming together in his hazel iris as it flickered over my face, and I felt my heart rise, trembling –
“Get on your back.”
I needed a second to realize the meaning behind the words mumbled against my skin, so deep and low and like a tremble running down my spine.
A wave of heat washed through me, my stomach twisted tight, and I blinked and pulled back my head, feeling my brows crunch incredulously.
“You're still hurt. No way; you're staying like this.”
Azriel's eyes darkened.
“Now.”
“No.” I glared back, which really, was ridiculous, because just the thought of him between my legs caused the pulsing feeling in my stomach to intensify tenfold, and I knew he could sense it, saw it in the way his nostrils flared and eyes flashed, but –
Azriel's hands closed around my sides, sliding my underwear down my legs; he groaned deep in his chest, then rough scarred fingers dug into my skin, right where my thighs and hips met, and my heart dipped and fell when Azriel dragged me up, up his torso, up over his shoulders.
“Wha-“ My breath got caught in my throat, and I hastily grabbed onto the headboard to not loose my balance, my eyes widening when I realised what he was doing.
My gaze whipped down; I tried to lift my hips, and Azriel wrapped his arms over my thighs and dragged me down, his piercing eyes meeting mine.
“No; I'm too –“
Azriel's tongue sliced through my folds, and I jolted and whimpered a string of trembling curses, my hips bucking down onto his face as my stomach twisted and my spine melted into burning, glowing matter.
Azriel groaned, the vibration travelling through me, and I dug my fingers into the headboard, feeling my heart tip over and insides clench.
“Shit – I –“ I tried to twist away in a weak attempt of trying to keep my weight off of him, but Azriel dragged me down further, not seeming to give a fuck about suffocating as he licked a broad stripe through my folds. His eyes flutterered, and he gave another grunt.
“Perfect.”
The low mumble rose up my spine, so deep and gravelly, my insides tightened around nothing. My breath shuddered, my brows crunched as my lips parted, and Azriel buried his face between my legs.
Whimpered curses spilled from my throat, senseless, blending into each other as my limbs trembled and Azriel's tongue traced the shape of me, mapping it like he was trying to commit to memory. Then he lazily circled my clit, and my lips parted, brows crunching as my hips bucked down in reflex and a whimper built in my throat.
My eyes flew down, and I could feel myself clench when my eyes met Azriel's, burning and flaring as he dipped his chin.
My breath hitched in a whine, and my hips spasmed when Azriel licked over my clit and sucked. His grip tightened, and the shadowsinger hummed, his nose nudging against my skin as his hazy, hooded eyes tracked over my face, molten like gold. My left hand flew down to bury in his dark hair as he ground my hips down onto his face, and I whimpered.
My body shook, the reason now far from freezing as my spine shuddered and hips bucked and waves of heat washed over me as I felt the world tip. Then Azriel's tongue slid into me, and my insides shuddered.
A breathless sound left me, I clenched, and Azriel groaned, tugging me down, and my head fell back as his tongue started to lazily dip in and out of me, circling, lapping until my body melted into a puddle. My fingers dug into his hair, nails scraping over his scalp as my hips rolled down without me being able to control it, but Azriel just gave a deep sound that travelled through me, his heavily hooded eyes fixed hungrily onto my face.
A knot formed in my lower stomach. Slowly, it build, twisting and churning as Azriel carried me towards something that would probably make me lose every last bit of control over my body, sucking on my clit, his eyes trained onto my face, coaxing every little reaction out of me, from my trembling fingers to my eyes rolling and head falling back, my thighs shaking next to his head –
Azriel's hand shifted, sliding down over my stomach. His tongue slid into me, and his thumb found my clit, circling tightly.
The world exploded, shattering as heat washed over me and the knot inside me bursted into a thousand stars. My hips spasmed, my back arching as my body tightened and loud, trembling noises left me that caused my fingers to curl and chest to tighten, my spine bleeding into nothingness, waves of blinding pleasure racking through me and causing my body to shudder and tremble. My hips jerked, and something bloomed in my stomach when Azriel groaned against me.
It took what felt like a lifetime until the sensations slowly dispersed and my spine stopped shuddering, and yet, Azriel was still lapping lazily at me, causing my hips twitch and a soft sound to break from my throat.
Slowly sliding my fingers out of his hair, my joints weak from clutching onto the silky strands, I weakly held onto the headboard and lifted my hips. My thighs trembled lightly, and Azriel's hands slid up to close around my hips, steading me, his head tipping back to stare up at me as I slowly started crawling down his body.
When I was hovering above his chest, I dropped my gaze. My heart rose into my throat, something dipped under my ribs, and I stilled.
Azriel's face was only an inch away. His iris was nothing but a ring of golden flecks around his blown pupils, his skin no longer pale but slightly flushed, the crease between his brows almost gone even as his jaw flexed, his gaze dragging over my face, and his lips -
My chest tightened as my breath hitched and I stared at his swollen, glistening lips. My hips bucked back as my spine shuddered, and Azriel's lids fluttered heavily, eyes blazing as his hand slipped onto my back, pushing me down, down until –
My nose grazed his, and something turned over in my chest when my own scent hit my lungs.
A deep sound rumbled through the shadowsinger's chest, his hand slid up to cup the side of my neck, and he dragged me down.
His breath ghosted over my lips, and my own hitched.
Azriel's nose softly nudged against mine, his thumb slowly tracing the curve of my throat. I could feel him, the warmth radiating from his skin, could feel his scent invading my senses and causing my heart to shudder, could feel something building in my chest as my fingers trembled.
Azriel's lips brushed over mine. His grip tightened, a strangled sound built in his chest, and he tugged me forward and crashed his lips onto mine.
My heart faltered. Then the whole world stilled.
Azriel kissed me like he'd been starving.
A breathless whimper tore from my throat, my fingers dug into the pillows, and Azriel groaned softly. His fingers slid further into my hair, then his lips parted mine and his tongue slid into my mouth.
My breath faltered as the ground seemed to sway. I clutched onto the sheets, a desperate sound building in my chest, and Azriel's hand curled into my hair as he kissed me harder, more feverish. He was kissing me like he'd been wondering what it would be like for centuries and now that he'd had a taste - nothing else would ever be enough.
The thought made something pang painfully in my chest, and I whimpered, my body curving into his as I settled on his hips, my hands sliding to the sides of his neck, tipping his head, and Azriel's breath shuddered in a deep moan as his thumb brushed over the side of my throat. His tongue swirled lazily around mine, then his teeth caught my bottom lip, and a soft whimper broke from my throat as something clenched in my stomach.
Azriel's grip tightened, dragging me down towards him, his nose brushing past mine. I could feel something travel through his hands that felt like a tremble. Then he pulled me in with a hoarse noise and kissed me again, deep and hard and feverish as his fingers curled into my hair, and something in my chest rose in a wild flutter.
part II
@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secret-ly-here @icey--stars @azriels-mate2 @ailyr92
#azriel#az#azriel imagine#azriel x reader#azriel x female!reader#azriel/reader#azriel smut#az imagine#az x reader#az/reader#acotar x reader#acowar#acomaf#acotar#lalacliffthorne
798 notes
·
View notes
Text
“Cass is the favorite.”
Bruce paused in the hallway, head tilted in the direction of the kitchen. He wasn’t aware that anyone was still up.
“Definitely.”
Bruce was aware that Tim had coordinated tonight’s patrol as Damian was sick with the flu and Bruce was laid up with a couple of injuries—they must’ve just gotten back.
“She can read everything on his face and he never has to say a word—the old man must’ve been thrilled when he found her.”
Bruce frowned. His plan to return to his bedroom was put on hold as he lurked in the shadow of the den, listening carefully.
“And…Dick is the next favorite.”
“Of course, he’s the Golden Boy. Follows orders like the perfect soldier.” There was a dark twist of bitterness to the words.
“Tim’s next.”
“No, it’s definitely Babs. She’s actually good at her job.”
“Nah, I have to go with Steph. Babs calls B out on his bullshit. You, baby bird, melt into the shadows and don’t make a peep.”
“Tim, then Babs.” When he heard the scratching of pencil on paper, Bruce realized they were actually writing this down.
“Then the demon brat.”
“Depending on what kind of scene he’s caused in the past week.” A laugh, low and not very amused.
“Then me and Jason. The outsiders. Last on the list.”
A scoff. “No, Blondie, then you. I’m not on this fucking list.”
“Jason—”
“We’re ranking his kids remember? Not the vaguely estranged undead mob boss that comes to bail your asses out of trouble.”
“You’re his son, Jason.” Bruce was gripping the door frame so hard his dislocated shoulder twinged.
“All evidence says otherwise.”
“Well, I’m not his kid either. So I guess both me and Jason are off this list.”
“You’re his kid, Blondie. You have a room in this house.”
“I don’t use it.”
“Neither does little Red, and he’s the one running the company.”
“You have a room here too, Jason.”
“No, I have a fucking shrine to the fifteen-year-old kid who was murdered in Ethiopia.”
It landed flat and whatever camaraderie had been underneath the bitterness and snark dissipated instantly. It left a heavy tension in the air.
“I don’t want it anyway. Look what happens to the poor bastards at the top of the list.”
“What do you mean?”
“Cass—dear, darling, favorite Cass. She disappears whenever anyone is talking to B. Probably too painful to watch.”
“I hadn’t noticed that.” Quiet. Guilty.
“And the Golden Boy. Trying to hold the family together while everybody in it tears it apart. Timbo here, who’s hoping that if he slinks further into the shadows everyone might actually forget he exists.”
“Hey, I don’t—”
“Babs is stuck working for a boss who constantly undermines her, the demon brat doesn’t know if he should be listening to Dick or Bruce, and you, Blondie, for the great honor of being last on the list, are the only one of us that actually managed to slap B.”
226 notes
·
View notes
Text
kingdom come - i
king König x princess & assassin reader
2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, afab reader, romance, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kind of age gap because König has been king for a good chunk of time but it's not really much of a factor, fantasy/medieval setting, magic exists but it's the creepy kind ordinary people don't fuck with
3.5k words
tw: swearing and König gets a boner. what's new
[NEXT]
GUESS WHO'S BACK ON HER BULLSHIT HAHAAA IT'S MEEE STARTING A NEW SERIES/AU AGAINNNnnnnn. Don't fret, I'm still working on university au! I just started watching The Great (the tv show) and I was like hmm. I should get back to that one idea I had.
p.s. When I mention a "mask" on König, imagine a sort of phantom of the opera, Brahms kinda thing. He isn't always wearing the hood.
Outside, the bells are tolling. Back home, you’ve only ever heard church bells ringing to rally the troops. But here, in these foreign lands, they ring for a royal wedding.
You're wearing a truly massive dress shaped like a pastry. It's a work of art, to be sure, but it leaves you feeling restrained and vulnerable. You should be wearing armor into war—hard boiled leather and curtains of steel rings, not delicate lace and silken ribbons. You're walking into a battle: you would have liked to be able to bend forward further than thirty degrees.
You're at least glad you don't have to wear a veil—it would have been borderline unbearable if you had your vision restricted on top of everything else. It does mean, however, that you can see him standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for you.
A gigantic man with a soldier's physique, wearing a mask that covers more than half his face. Just the sight of him sends a a chill down your spine.
The officiant’s voice booms out over the assembly, but you don’t hear any of it. The sound washes over you, distant and echoing, as if your head is underwater. Your whole being is on alert as you tilt your face upwards to look at the only part of your soon-to-be-husband that you can see properly: his eyes.
They bore into you as if they're looking straight into your soul. As if they're revealing all of your secrets. For a moment, you feel disarmed, even though you can still feel the calming, solid presence of your trusty dagger against your thigh.
As the officiant finishes the wedding vows, he offers his hand to you, his touch shockingly gentle.
You steel your resolve and stare resolutely back at him as you place your hand in his, and the officials begin to bind them together with velvet cords. You remind yourself who you are, where you are, and what you must do.
You remind yourself that you have to kill him as they tie the final knot.
The woods are foreboding, home to a darkness that seems infinite and all-consuming. The heavy old trees that surround the palace grounds shut out most sunlight and all moonlight, and sometimes it feels as if the forest itself is a living, conscious thing brimming with a dangerous unknown. It's proven to be an effective line of defense in the past: citizens don’t dare to trespass on the royal grounds as it is, but an extra deterrent never hurt anybody.
Except perhaps enemy soldiers. But they learn their lesson quickly.
To you, however, the woods are comforting. You’ve spent many lonely nights amongst these trees, training until your body was sore all over. These trunks have withstood many a misplaced blow, these exposed roots have been your downfall many a time, and this mossy undergrowth has cushioned your bruises during many a tumble and fall.
Tonight, however, there is no training. No combat, no groans of pain, no thuds against wood or flesh. You are blanketed in quiet, something sorely needed as you contemplate the days to come.
This is it. The task you’ve trained for all your life is here. Every sore joint and pulled muscle, every tear-soaked pillowcase, every scolding in Father’s office has led to this. Sometimes it seemed as if the day would never come, as if years of reading, shooting, riding and sparring would be for naught. Though your breath rattles the leaves around you, you feel as if you’ve been holding your breath ever since Father broke the news. This is happening.
You leave in a few hours, as soon as the sun comes over the horizon. Your maids have already packed your luggage—you had to enlist their help after it became too difficult to pick what to bring and what not to bring. If all went well, you’d be back in this room in a few weeks. But what could you afford to bring? What did you need for your sanity? What minute details of an object could compromise your position?
Luckily, Calliope, your most trusted lady-in-waiting, was able to step in when she found you sitting on your rug, clutching your set of cloth dolls—the only toys you’d ever owned as a child that weren’t made with murder in mind—and suggest you take a breath of fresh air. You don’t know where you’d be without her, honestly. You may be your father’s pride and joy of a perfectly well-rounded monarch and killing machine, but you would never have gotten here without her by your side.
You sigh and lean your head against the thick limb you’re lying on. If you didn’t already know you’d wake up with a complaining spine that would then have to spend days riding a horse, you’d go to sleep right here, right now. The woods are your home, these trees your solace. You’ll miss it terribly, as the only place you can truly avoid all servants, generals, teachers, and parents.
Well. Parent.
But as with all things—Father’s rare good mood, your training days, peacetime—the sweet, silent embrace of the forest can’t last forever.
Reluctantly, you give the tree one last pat and climb down, making the trudge back to your room so you can at least attempt to catch a few winks of sleep.
It takes quite a few days of travel to get to your destination. You arrive in the empire next door's capital city saddle-sore and on edge. This was the snakes’ nest, the heart of the beast.
And yet…people are happy.
The mood in your hometown is far quieter and more grim—your country has been at war with this one for as long as you can remember, and yet the contrast could not be more vast. Back home, people walk directly from place to place, and don’t make eye contact with each other. Here, children play unsupervised, outdoor markets overflow with people, and windows are thrown wide open as neighbors chat.
You don’t know how to feel. The previous king here was a ruthless conqueror, building an empire by invading neighboring countries and forcing their monarchs to yield—or killing them when they were defiant. Your own land had only escaped being absorbed into the empire by employing rigorous military discipline and strict wartime measures. Yet here, in the heart of the empire, you would never be able to tell it was a nation at war.
And now you’re marrying the king’s son. The current king. The one they call König. So little is known about him that his entire existence is shrouded in rumor: that the hood he wears conceals a monstrous, disfigured face, that he plotted his father’s demise, that his first wife died not of childbirth, but was assassinated in quiet due to being unable to provide an heir.
You don’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out if the rumors are true.
To your surprise, your reception by the people feels more curious than hostile. You’d expected a bit of resistance, or at least a few dirty looks, considering you're the princess of the country they've been at war with for years. But whatever König has told them has been far more charitable than you anticipated.
Your arrival at the palace is greeted by a flurry of activity. Your entourage scatters to put affairs in order, but Calliope and a small contingent of guards follows you into the main hall. Not that you need them—but you need to keep up appearances. No one outside your family’s most tight-knit circle knows you can throw a punch, much less have an assassin’s training.
You don’t feel in the least bit prepared to meet your fiancé—and target—face to face fresh off a days-long journey, but you’re ushered into the main hall anyway. It seems your task has already begun whether you like it or not.
“Ah, princess. Welcome to my humble home.” You hear him before you see him, his voice heavy with an accent. There’s something a bit charming about it, you think—before the sight of him shakes some sense back into you.
He’s huge. He towers over even his own palace guard, broad with muscle, and moves with a deadly raw power even in this nonthreatening setting.
When his father still ruled, before the current peacetime, stories of the empire’s prodigal heir on the frontlines served as frightening bedtime story and a terrifying cautionary tale for the nation’s soldiers. A beast in a hood who fought with the strength of ten men.
You stand your ground as he approaches you. The hood, then, is real—although the stories were so consistent about it that it was never really in question, was it? What the stories had left out were his eyes—striking and green, piercing into your soul as he bends to kiss the back of your hand. It’s an odd sensation that sends shivers racing up your spine.
“The pleasure is mine, your majesty,” you respond, a hint of apprehension in your tone. Of course you had been expecting some form of courtly courtesy, but for some reason you hadn’t expected him to be such a…gentleman. A part of you had been expecting some feral animal, needing to be put down.
"I'm sure you must be exhausted from your journey," he says. "I hope you will find your rooms to your liking." Something about his demeanor is almost...bored? As if greeting his future wife is just another task he's obligated to complete.
He doesn't join you for dinner that night, which is odd. The servants inform you that he's taking care of some urgent business. You hope that your dejection is taken as disappointment that you won't have an opportunity to get to know your fiancé. You are, but not the way people may think.
After all, getting to know your target is half the battle.
You're left to your own devices the next day. König, you're informed, won't be available. That urgent business from last night appears to be an ongoing situation.
Fine by you. You could use some time to prepare.
You spend the day wandering the palace, familiarizing yourself with the grounds and plotting an escape route. You're halted on your brisk survey when you stumble upon a...garden?
Unlike the perfectly manicured hedges outside the palace, or the groomed efficiency of the kitchen gardens, this place is small. Quiet. A little overgrown, but clearly taken care of. The grass is long and soft, dappled in sunshine. Flowers burst forward, crowded around trellises spiraling with vines.
Part of you feels like a trespasser in this private little sanctum, but another part of you is set at ease by the idle tranquility of this place. You pause, feeling a pang of homesickness. It reminds you of the forest: wild in its own way, but gentle and welcoming at the same time.
Something at the corner of your vision catches your eye. A bush bursting forward with round, dark little berries.
Nightshade. Deadly nightshade, in fact. What is this doing in this peaceful little garden? You move forward to examine them closer.
"You shouldn't be here."
You whirl around to find König standing behind you. You had been so absorbed by the garden that you hadn't detected his approach.
Your cheeks burn. You've only been here a day, and already you're letting your guard down. This won't do.
"My apologies, your majesty. I got....lost."
You hold your breath as he draws near. His expression is unreadable—not that you can see most of it, anyway. But when you meet his gaze, you can tell he's sizing you up.
"This is quite a long way to wander."
Shit, is he suspicious? Thinking fast, your brain supplies the best answer you can muster.
"Should a future queen not know the palace she is to live in?"
"Mmm. You make a fair point."
Before you can say or do anything further, he's standing right in front of you. "That's nightshade, you know." You can feel him watching you, assessing your reaction. "Not many can recognize it."
"I..." You can't very well tell him that you know what nightshade looks like because you're an expert in deadly poisons. "I had been wondering what they were."
"I see." He leans forward and plucks a berry off the bush, rolling it between his fingers. "Have you ever tasted one?"
Does he know? Is that a threat? You can't read his expression behind that goddamned mask of his. You stare at him, hoping you look dumbfounded instead of panicked.
"No? They're quite sweet, you know." He holds it out to you. "Care to try one?"
"Your Majesty, I—"
"Don't look so nervous." If you had ever thought he looked frightening before, there's something uncanny about the half-smile that he gives you now. "I didn't expect you to say yes." Before you can say or do anything, he pops the berry in his mouth.
You're too stunned to do anything but watch as he chews for a moment and swallows. One berry won't kill him, but you're more concerned about why he's doing this. Is he trying to intimidate you?
"This was my mother's garden." He gestures to the general surroundings. "I spent a lot of time here as a child. Peaceful, isn't it?"
You let out a tiny sigh of relief now that the conversation appears to be moving on. "Yes. Quite."
"It's always been a place to get away. The first time I ate a nightshade berry was right here, when I was six. I was violently sick for weeks." His tone is a little too light for someone describing being poisoned as a child, and it's unnerving.
"That's when I learned to be careful of things that are too sweet. A good lesson to learn, don't you think?" He walks towards you, and you brace yourself for anything.
He stops next to you, you facing one way and him the other. "Take care then, princess. I will see you tomorrow."
You stare resolutely ahead. "Yes."
And hopefully you won't see him for much longer after that.
Fuck. You forgot about this part.
You had been prepared for this, of course, but you only realize now that you hadn't been mentally prepared. It wasn't until Calliope was helping you undress that you remembered what usually happens between a man and a woman the night of the wedding.
You pace the room, stewing and plotting, getting increasingly antsy before the door swings open and the man himself comes strutting into the bedroom.
"You look like a cornered deer." You hear König shut the door behind him, but you don't turn around.
"I've never done this before." Mentally, you curse yourself for the quaver in your voice.
"Well. Tonight won't be your first."
"What?" You do turn at that, watching him carelessly shed layers all across the room between swigs of his drink.
"I have no interest in bedding you. We do have to sleep in the same room for appearances, though." He plucks a grape from a cluster sitting on a side table and throws it up in the air, catching it with his mouth.
You haven't been in his presence much in the past few days, but each time you have, something about your encounters with him have shaken you up and set you on edge. Somehow, he's kept you on your toes even with a limited presence. Your meeting in the garden was dizzying and confusing, the ceremony set you on high alert. And now, he's thrown you another curveball.
It feels almost too easy. He's just going to go to sleep in the same room as you? No fanfare? "You don't want to...consummate the marriage?"
"You sound upset." He cocks an eyebrow at you. "Were you hoping to?"
"No!" Your face feels hot as he gives you that lopsided half-smile again, more like a smirk this time.
"That's a shame. I prefer fucking willing participants, you see." He drapes himself over the elaborate chaise lounge opposite the bed.
"Are you usually this vulgar?" you retort.
"I see no reason for pretense. We're married, after all." Curiously, he hasn't taken his mask off. Does he sleep in it? Or is he only keeping it on because you're here?
You feel silly now, dressed in a flimsy little silken thing, wrapped up like a present for a brute who won't even touch you. Considerate of him, you suppose. Not that it will matter for very long.
"Sleep well then, hmm? You should be well rested for your first day as queen tomorrow." There's a dangerous gleam in his eye, but it disappears so quickly you wonder if you had imagined it.
"Yes," you say, sitting on the bed while not taking your eyes off of him. "Sleep well."
You give it a few hours, just to be safe. A few hours of laying awake staring at the ceiling. A few hours of watching as moonlight bathes the room in silver light. A few hours of watching him.
The deepening darkness casts sharp shadows across his face, making him seem even more inhuman. What do bloodthirsty emperors dream of? Dominating the weak? Slaughtering the innocent? Conquering women? You shudder. Best not to know.
It's well past midnight when you slowly, quietly get up and pull your dagger from its hidden holster. One downwards thrust, and you're going home. One quick motion, and all of this is over.
It's a little anticlimactic, you think. But this is for the best. For you. For your people. For your family.
Light as a feather, you straddle him, hovering over him just enough so that your weight doesn't wake him. You try not to think about how intimate this position is, and remind yourself that this is the best way to prevent him from getting up or struggling, should your first strike not end him immediately. Which it will, of course.
You take a deep breath as you position the blade right over his heart, calming the fluttering anxiety in your mind. The beginning of a new chapter of your life begins now.
You plunge the dagger downwards.
In an instant, König's eyes fly open. Before you can react at all, his hand has seized your wrist in an iron grip, the tip of your dagger a hair's length from his chest.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" He purrs. "A little assassin?"
You grit your teeth and attempt to overpower him: you're so, so close. But his strength is so overwhelming that you can't even get the tip of the dagger to make contact. Panic starts to set in. This isn't good. This is disastrous, actually. He was supposed to be asleep!
You attempt to pull away, to get away, to do anything, but it's no use. "You don't seem surprised," you spit.
"It's not every day your most bitter enemy offers you his daughter's hand in marriage as a truce," he replies, clear amusement in his voice. Is he enjoying this? "Of course I smelled a rat. You must think me a fool."
"No." Yeah, you kind of had.
"Lying ill suits you, princess." You cry out as he jams his fingers into the tendons in your wrist, forcing you to release the dagger. You watch, helplessly, as he picks it up with his other hand and turns it over, studying it in the moonlight.
"What a delicate little knife," he muses. In your hand, it's a sizeable weapon. But held in his fingers it looks small, harmless. To your dismay, he then proceeds to chuck it at the opposite wall, the blade sticking itself solidly in between two panels.
"You knew?" you ask, a tremor in your traitorous voice.
"Oh, I suspected. You had me disappointed for a while—I thought you would have made an attempt well before this." He lets out a deep chuckle that sends terror through you. "For a moment I even thought that you were as you presented: just some poor little lamb, a peace offering given up to the slaughter." His eyes narrow behind the mask. "I am glad to see that you have proven to be much more interesting than that."
"Interesting?" Out of all the reactions you would have expected him to have, this is not one of them. Fear, anger, even immediate violence. Not...interest.
"You have no idea," he says. Your eyes widen as he you feel his hand run up your thigh.
That's not the only thing you feel, though. He shifts a bit underneath you, and it's then that the earlier flush to your cheeks returns in full force. Is he...hard?!
"If you're going to kill me, then get on with it," you ground out through your teeth.
"Little one, if I had wanted you dead immediately, I would have already pinned you down and snapped your neck. No, you've given me a gift: a gift I intend to cherish." You shiver as he slides a hand up your thigh. "A challenge."
"Is this a game to you?" You're not sure if your breath is running ragged from fear or anger, now.
"I could end this at any time, you know." You gasp involuntarily as a hand closes around your throat. "But that would be no fun, now would it?"
"You are a fool, then." You stare at him defiantly, even as his grip constricts your breathing. "Because I will kill you."
His eyes dance with some mad glee. "That's what I like to hear."
Hiiiiiiiii besties. I've been chewing on the idea of a medieval royalty sort of au since before Shrike, and I came up with this premise like. At least a year or two ago, before I was even in the COD fandom. So I'm glad to finally be making some real headway on it! I have no idea how many parts this is going to have. I have a lot of plot planned for it, so we're just gonna have to see where the vibes take us!
I'd like to thank @danibee33 my angel as always. I bounced a lot of royal/medieval/king König ideas off of her, some of which I still may use, but I changed the plot drastically when I had an epiphany a week or two ago. Hope you like this one babe <3 Also, thank you @kneelingshadowsalome and @gremlingottoosilly for their historical/time period aus. Your fics gave me a real kick in the ass to finish this.
Also shoutout to Pedro Pascal fans? I stumbled upon some breathtakingly kinky fanfiction on this beloved hellsite featuring the Mandalorian, and thought: you know what? If people can proudly write and publish the nastiest, most shameless smut I've ever read, then I can push through whatever impostor syndrome, perfectionist embarrassment I have with my work and get it done.
As usual, please let me know your feedback! I'm trying out a bit of a different characterization for König (not that much different, he's still our beloved violent horny maniac), and I want to know what people think.
I'm also going to be using my taglist again. If you were tagged here and don't want to be tagged anymore, please let me know! And if you would like to be added to the taglist, drop a reply <3
@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr
#alright lads place your bets now what do you think happened to his first wife#könig#konig#könig cod#konig cod#konig x reader#König x reader#konig x you#König x you#cod#cod mw2#call of duty#mw2#fic: kingdom come
526 notes
·
View notes
Text
HALF OF ME (ii)
SUMMARY: When Soldier Boy doesn’t return from Nicaragua, Vought creates a bullshit lie, talking him up as a hero who died in a devastating, world-saving accident. You’re handed down the mantle of leader as Payback, and spend your time trying to live up to how Ben had lead them, while also attempting to figure out what truly happened to him.
WORD COUNT: 2945
WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Vought’s corrupt behaviour, typical Soldier Boy behaviour, death, gore, vomit, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, sexual content, smut; descriptions of sex.
SERIES MASTERLIST / MAIN MASTERLIST
Ben didn’t come home from Nicaragua.
Blown to pieces by some Russian laser weapon (what the fuck?), the.. chunky remnants of his body were taken away in a helicopter. Presumably to be experimented on.
It made you sick. Ben might’ve been an asshole, a deep rooted cunt, but he didn’t deserve to have his corpse be defiled like that. Maybe you’d just gone soft for him, that’s all. Maybe his hushed, sweet words and gentle touches, in his last few days, had softened your heart.
But you spent nights grieving your loss, hyperventilating in your room as you felt his fingers tracing your hips again. If you closed your eyes tight enough, you could see him.
You’d never planned for Ben to die. Hell, he hadn’t even planned to do. He was supposed to be ageless; a man who didn’t die. Vought would hide him away when it became suspicious, and he’d live peacefully… as peaceful as he could get, anyway. That was what was supposed to happen.
But his guts were strewn across the base camp in Nicaragua, and you’d never see him again.
It only took Vought three months to create a bullshit cover story.
After all, they couldn’t tell America their beloved Soldier Boy was actually at the site of a cocaine smuggling operation when he was blown to bits. No, that’d taint his image that Vought had spent literal decades moulding. He needed to die a hero. A man that would live gloriously in textbooks and stories.
A nuclear reactor meltdown is what they came up with.
Fucking bullshit, really.
The man was practically immortal (which did raise the question of, how the hell did the Russians kill him in the first place?). Some radiation wasn’t going to take him out. You’d watched him take two full magazines from an assault rifle, and get back to his feet like nothing happened.
And now he was dead. You didn’t know how. You wished more than ever that he’d let you accompany Payback on this godforsaken mission. Because you were utterly clueless as to what had gone down, and no one was answering your questions, tearing up whenever you mentioned the place.
You wanted — needed — to know how this was possible.
You knew Ben, better than anyone else on the team, even Crimson, who stood up on stage, talking about how good of a man Ben was.
Ben was a good man — to those he thought deserved to see that side of him. He was reserved and harsh and rude. And, yes, he was naturally an asshole. But, there was a part of him capable of respect and kindness and love. It was just stuffed deep within.
You’d been drawing it, slowly and carefully. You’d dug your hand in and grasped onto it, worming that side of him out of his heart with every night you’d spent cuddled into his chest. And he’d been warming. His touches had been gentler, his words softer, his eyes more admiring. You’d made him that. You were the only one he’d deemed worthy of his love and trust and respect.
Crimson had never seen that side of him. She’d never even come close to opening him up, seeing who he truly was.
As she talked fake stories of their blinding romance, about how he was such an incredible boyfriend, you just rolled your eyes in the audience. The only time Ben spent with Crimson outside of the public eye was when he was balls deep inside of her. And, even then, he liked to say she was a terrible fuck.
He also liked to say you were a good fuck. It was his favourite compliment; as funny was that was. As he railed you against his mattress, his hands keeping you firmly where he wanted you, he muttered praises.
That was different to the Ben the other women got. He’d degrade them: call them every name under the sun as he practically broke their pelvises. With you, sure, he was rough, but he complimented you; whispering and grunting softly, making sure you felt pretty and loved as he violently fucked you into unconsciousness.
And he always made sure you were okay afterwards. Ben giving aftercare was not something you’d expected, but he was damn good at making you feel safe and secure. He was a man of many talents.
The country was honouring him, as you begged for any kind of rational answer from Payback, from Edgar, from Vought. You were close to falling to your knees and pleading. But they didn’t care. Too busy basking in the boost of popularity that came from Ben’s death.
So, they upped their game.
And, when Vought erected a statue of Ben outside of Vought Tower, you threw up in the bathroom. The night you were named the new leader of Payback, you threw up again.
Apparently, it’s what Ben wanted. Which was bullshit. He wanted you in his kitchen with a dinner plate (lovingly, he’d told you that night. How could something like that be a compliment? You didn’t know, but it was Ben, so you guessed it was possible). But, you couldn’t fight it. So, nearly exactly three months after the last night you saw him, you took his place.
It felt wrong, and disrespectful, and you were lost and out of place. You had no knowledge on how to lead a team of asshole supes, that didn’t respect you or really like you that much.
Ben did this so easily. He lead Payback like a natural born leader. You lead like a baby giraffe learning to walk.
But you did it anyway.
“Soldier Boy was a national icon.” You held the microphone with shaking hands, willing them to stop, staring out at the gathering of civilians. It was wrong; America was mourning a death they’d all been lied to about. You swallowed your bile and pushed on. “And I am honoured to be taking his place as the leader of our brave and dedicated superhero team, Payback. I will be leading in his image, and his honour, and I hope that my work would make him proud.”
It was all bullshit.
You hadn’t written a word of this shit.
Edgar had shoved it into your hands and pointed you onto the stage. No warning. No cooperation. No opinion. Just… here you go, now go put on a show.
But, the audience was eating it up, and Edgar and your PA were giving you a thumbs up from backstage. They liked your performance. Ben, however, would be gagging in his mouth hearing this. He’d probably mock you, and claim you’d be better off just blowing his dick. He’d be right. Every word that was coming out of your mouth was corporate propaganda.
Your hands curled tighter around the microphones, knuckles whitening. You didn’t want to be here. You wanted to be home, as far away from Vought and these grieving people as fast as possible. “Soldier Boy was a respected, beloved hero, within your hearts, and Vought’s.” God, what cliche, sappy horseshit. “He was a good man, who lost his life saving millions.” You held back your scoff. “Vought will forever live in his shadow. We ask that you give us time and space to grieve our loss. Thank you.”
The audience applauded, loud and roaring, as you walked off stage.
The rage bubbling up in your chest was ready to burst, overflowing. This was all fucking sickening. No one was telling you anything. And they expected you to get on stage and do these speeches? To sit, cry and look pretty as you grieved the mighty Soldier Boy?
Fuck that. You were going to get answers.
There was some dark shit happening behind the scenes, and it had Vought’s grubby handprints all over it. The cover story. Payback’s silence. Edgar’s lack of care. None of it was adding up.
The moment the audience could no longer see it, your mouth curled to a scowl, heels clicking as you stormed up to Edgar. You were going to get answers, even if you had to physically get them. You’d find out what happened to Ben in Nicaragua, even if it cost you your head.
Stan Edgar, despite knowing he was now on the receiving end of your anger, stood tall. Cocky bastard. You could kill him with ease. But, of course, he didn’t care. There was only one person you’d ever seen Edgar cower from — Ben. To be fair with the guy, though, anyone would cower if Soldier Boy was screaming at you, inches from your face.
“What is going on?” Despite your rage, you kept your voice to a low hiss, not wanting to attract attention to your anger and frustration. “Can someone fucking explain to me, what is happening?” He began to walk away, and you followed. your words still flying out. “Why am I taking Ben’s place? How did he even die? You were in Nicaragua — what happened? Why did it take you so long to come up with that shitty reactor meltdown story?”
He turned to face you. You abruptly stopped, almost smashing into his chest with the suddenness of it, taking a stumbling step backwards. “I understand you’re upset.” You rolled your eyes at his professional tone, hands linked behind his back. Typical. “But I cannot answer those questions.”
“No, I deserve to know” You demanded. It was a losing battle, and you already knew that, but it doesn’t mean you wouldn’t try your hardest. “What. Happened?”
You weren’t getting an answer from Edgar. And that became clear when he turned his back to you, engaging in a conversation with his secretary, and leaving you in the dust. Glaring at the back of his head, you muttered obscenities.
If you weren’t getting it from Edgar’s lips, you’d get it another way.
Namely, breaking into his office that evening.
━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━
Now, you weren’t a seasoned criminal, but Ben had taught you a thing or two. He was, very much, a criminal, and knew things you were never too curious to ask about. Like picking locks. Which was the most normal of his odd knowledge. (The fact that man has known the recipe to make a bomb was… terrifying.)
Picking a lock wasn’t in your expertise, but you remembered enough from what he’d shown you. Enough to kneel down in front of Edgar’s office door, and use a bobby pin to turn the lock until it clicked.
You grinned, internally thanking Ben for his… strange teaching techniques. Glancing down the hallway, both ways, you ensured it was empty; that no one was about to see you going against every rule in the book. Once it was cleared, you slipped inside the door with practiced ease, and shut the door behind you.
The sun was setting over the horizon — the golden hour hue lighting up the room enough for you to make your way over to Edgar’s shelves. You were determined to find something. Anything.
Something was going on. Something sketchier than Vought’s usual dirty work. And you were going to figure it out.
Your index finger skimmed the folders, peeking at the names. Until you found Ben’s — a cream folder with ‘SOLDIER BOY’ written across the front. Pulling it out, your eyes locked onto the bright red ‘DECEASED’ stamped under his name, your heart squeezing.
Swallowing thickly, uncertain, you flipped it open. Reasons over the contents, your eyes narrowed in concentration and then narrowed further in frustration.
It was nothing you didn’t already know. His past. The human trial experiment. Comp V. Ben had already told you all of this.
You glared at the deceased marker on the front of it, and then slid the folder back into the right spot. Alphabetical order, you noticed. You continued flicking through the files, trying to find something that could be labelled as suspicious.
Your ears perked at the sound of sudden buzzing from across the room. Like a dog to a squeaky toy, you rushed over, watching a piece of paper print out of the fax machine.
You snatched it up the moment it came out.
BCL-RED was the title word.
What the fuck was that?
You’d never heard of it before. It had to be an acronym, but your mind came up blank, as you racked it for any familiarity. Cursing internally, you scowled — damn fucking code words.
Before you could read ahead, a voice floated into the office from outside.
“Shit.” You hissed under your breath, suddenly very panicked. Returning the paper to the machine, you dashed for the door, poking your head out just enough to peek down the hall. You spotted Edgar just a ways down, facing away from you, talking to Black Noir. Quickly and silently, with expertise learnt on the field, you crept out of the office, taking off down the hallway in the opposite direction.
All the way back to your room, you muttered the words to yourself.
BCL-RED.
… BCL-RED.
━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━
It wasn’t in any folders documents anywhere. Not even your PA knew what a BCL-RED was.
You felt like a dog chasing its tail. Going in circles, trying to find any clues as to what happened to Ben. Every day your suspicions rose. Something wasn’t right. Edgar was having hushed conversations. Payback was having meetings that excluded you.
Your trail lead you to Grace Mallory.
The young woman handed you a cup of coffee, hands scarred and calloused from her days at war. Quietly, you thanked her, sat comfortably on her sofa, cradling the coffee. “I have to respect your strength. Putting up with Soldier Boy every day.”
You cracked a smile, sipping the steaming coffee. “He was a… acquired taste.” Your laugh was breathy and quiet, thinking back to Ben and his unique personality. “What happened in Nicaragua?”
Grace sighed as she settled back. She was pretty. No doubt Ben tried to get in her pants while he was there. “It happened quickly.” Your brows furrowed, sitting forward, elbows on your knees. “We were ambushed. Your team couldn’t find their guns from their asses.”
“Sounds about right.” You murmured. “I told Ben he needed me out there. The stubborn dick wouldn’t listen. Looks like it bit him in the ass, eh?”
“Big time.” Grace agreed. “There was an explosion. It knocked me out.” You listened attentively, frequently sipping the coffee. “When I came to… your team were in ruins. Half of ‘em were dead, the other half injured.”
You chewed your lips for a few beats. “Black Noir still hasn’t recovered. Doctors said he’ll never be able to talk again.”
Solemn, she nodded. “Not surprised. His face was more hole than it was skin.” You grimaced at the imagery. “Crimson Countess told me Soldier Boy was dead. He’d been killed by some… laser, his body taken by a helicopter.”
“And that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
You sat back. “Huh.” You murmured. “She’s lying.” You decided. The story wasn’t right. Sure, it was feasible, under different circumstances. But, in battle? When Ben was on his A-game? No way.
Grace looked confused. After all, why would Crimson lie about something like that?
You didn’t know.
But you were going to fucking find out.
━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━
That night, you didn’t return to your room. Instead, you slipped into Ben’s in the dead of night. It hadn’t been touched since he left for Nicaragua. Since he’d railed you against the mattress and left you bed-bound for two days.
The air was musty, with dust covering each surface. Crawling onto the bed, you tugged open the curtains, letting sunlight in for the first time in months.
Every surface was covered in dust. And there were still drugs laid about. Half snorted lines of cocaine on the coffee table. Empty pill bottles decorating the floor. An ash tray that reeked of marijuana. God, this man had been like a teenage boy.
Flicking on the light, you gathered your bravery, and spent a few hours cleaning his room up. You didn’t know why. Maybe you wanted to feel closer to him. Feel like you were doing something for him. Ben hated it when things were messy. And he loved it when you cleaned up after him. You hated feeding into that old, sexist mindset he had.
But, god, you’d do anything right now to hear him demand you fetch him a drink.
After you cleaned his room, you stripped his sheets, gagging at the old stain. Definitely your cum. And his. Gross. You stuffed it into a basket, kicking it away from you.
Okay… remember to not touch that again without gloves.
As you finished the last, final touches, a glint of metal on his bedside table caught your attention. Curious, you padded over, expecting a pistol.
Instead, you found a chain.
Your heart leapt into your throat. Delicately, you placed the necklace in the palm of your hand, brushing your thumb over the metal surface.
His WW2 dog tags.
Swallowing thickly, you blinked back your emotion. Why the fuck were even so sad? You weren’t even dating the man. Sure, you’d been his friend for years. You’d been protecting him. He’d been protecting you. You’d been his right-hand man practically.
But, still!
With a lump in your throat, you carefully placed the dog tags over your head. The dog tags were cold against your chest. You tucked them under your shirt, inhaling shakily.
With one last look around the room, you turned around and walked out, with a basket of laundry balanced on your hip.
You weren’t going to rest until you found out the truth. That was for sure.
A/N: sorry for the lack of soldier boy in this chap :( he makes his grand return next chapter !!! in all his sexist glory lmao. he’s so fun to write, tho i do feel like a horrible person writing some of the shit he says. definitely fun to explore this universe and all its fucked up possibilities. thank you guys for the support on chap one :’) <3 next chap will also be longer promise
banners in use by @cafekitsune
TAGLIST: @onlyangel-444 @deans-spinster-witch @fumolemon @anundyingfidelity @mostlymarvelgirl @aaronhotchnerlover @delaynew @let-me-luve-you @yvonneeeee @livsh20 @thej2report @lostin-jensenseyes
#soldier boy#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy x you#soldier boy x female reader#the boys#the boys tv#jensen ackles#jensen ackles x reader#half of me
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
PROMPTS FROM LIFE IS STRANGE, SEASON 1
* assorted dialogue, suggested by ismelodrama, adjust as necessary
everything is a picture waiting for be taken.
you're just jealous of me because i actually do the things you can't.
are you hiding something?
i'm sick of your disrespect. tell me the truth!
i don't want to fight with you anymore. i don't want to fight with anyone anymore.
i was eating those beans!
how the hell did you know about that photo?
always take the shot. my number one rule of photography.
you just don't listen, do you?
there's something weird going on with you.
you've only been here for three weeks and you're already causing conflict.
after this week, you are certainly not a little kid anymore.
not now. i'm contemplating shit.
are you fucking kidding me? this is major bullshit!
i didn't have all the evidence at the time.
we all make decisions we regret.
i'm not gonna make any excuses for my behavior.
i'd put stephen hawking against picasso any day.
it sucks to be dragged into the spotlight.
nobody believes me anyway.
you're exactly the kind of soldier i'd want by my side in a war.
why the hell not?
i almost asked you to hang out.
you should have asked me.
maybe we're too much alike.
i don't believe anything you say. you're full of shit.
eat a dick, [name].
i'll be in the tardis getting my delorean ready.
since you're the mysterious superhero... i'll be your faithful chauffeur and companion.
you don't know who the fuck i am or who you're messing around with.
where'd you get that? what are you doing? come on, put that thing down!
don't ever tell me what to do! i'm so sick of people trying to control me!
so you can't help me?
i told you before that i'll always believe you.
i may be a pest but... i'm a good listener.
you're the bravest person i've ever known.
for every action, there's a reaction.
i'm trying. but you have to understand my position.
i know i can be a pain in the ass... and you've always treated me like a person, not a beta nerd.
why do you want all your friends to die?
oh i see. i'm not important to you anymore.
nobody lectures me. everybody tries though.
do not analyze me! i pay people for that.
hey, that's total slander!
you don't know shit about my father, or me.
you're all fucked!
everybody hates me.
[name]... it's me. i just wanted to say i'm sorry.
i truly am sorry for being such a bastard.
you would have been cool to hang out with.
you might as well choose me.
i'm not perfect, okay?
you have talent, [name].
you don't have to push people out of your way.
thanks for admitting again that i have some talent.
do you think it's, like, fate we're not supposed to be friends?
nobody says we have to be friends.
everybody lies. no exceptions.
i came for all of you.
i'm in a nightmare and i can't wake up.
no wonder they call it a "web." nothing can ever get out.
i wish i could go back in time and erase everything.
just tell me you do have the photograph.
now shut up and listen.
i'm not a real scientist.
i was just happy just being your friend.
[name], i'm so sorry you had to go through all that.
i don't think i can concentrate on going out to the movies.
everybody pretends to care until they don't.
even angels need angels, [name].
i might be naive, but i feel their struggle.
why did you stop me from jumping?
this shit pit has taken everyone i've ever loved.
when a door closes, a window opens... or something like that.
i keep going back in time.
how could there be a more important moment in history?
thank you for trusting me.
hey... be careful out there.
what kind of friend are you?
you never understood me, or what happened to me.
i'll always be alone, thanks to you.
just in case we don't get out of this...
i'm going to make the right choices from now on.
i've been feeling like this might be actually the end of the world.
i hate to say that i'm glad to see you, but i'm glad to see you.
i wish i could stay in this moment forever... but then it wouldn't be a moment.
if that tornado came right now, i would just sit here and watch for a while.
i just feel like escaping.
i have total faith that you'll do the right thing when the time comes.
with great power comes great bullshit.
am i pushing myself too hard?
you like to hurt people, huh?
i'm glad you decided to escort me.
i know this is a bad time, but can i get one picture?
of course i believe you. you're the most amazing person i've ever met, and i'm glad you trust me.
i don't have a fucking clue what's going on.
#mcflymemes#life is strange#life is strange memes#rp prompt#rp meme#rp memes#roleplay memes#roleplay prompt#rp starters#ask meme#ask memes#roleplay meme#roleplay inbox prompts#rp inbox meme#inbox prompt#inbox meme#sentence starter prompt#sentence starter#sentence starters#thank you to ismelodrama for suggesting this!!!!!
214 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
wrenchowl67
feng shui black obsidian bracelet Blog 1128
lifani-atrz
Lifani
yang-branwen
No Thoughts, head empty
marketingtips2k24
Untitled
signourneybooks
A Dance With Books