otto-s-alskling - Tumblr blog

otto-s-alskling · 6 days

Text

You sir, are like a bug trying its best to creep up on me and make me like you more than I expected. Stop it, pretty boy. 😤😤😤

Cold Hands, Warm Hearts

Pairing: Roommate!Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Fem!Reader

Summary: The heat in your apartment goes out right before a major snowstorm. With only one space heater to keep you and your roommate warm, you two have to come up with a solution to stay cozy. Despite the sub-zero temperatures outside, the feelings between you and Kyle heat up.

CW: Minors & ageless blogs DNI, 18+ / NSFW content below the cut, fem!reader / female anatomy, roommates to lovers, friends to lovers, implied mutual pining, nipple sucking (f receiving), oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, pullout method used. please let me know if i've missed anything!

Word count: 2.8k

Dedicated to my dearest @sher-ni <3

“Hey, can you come here for a second?” the Londoner’s voice calls out into your apartment.

“What’s up?” you ask upon entering the livingroom, cocking your head slightly at your roommate.

“Is there heat in your bedroom?” Kyle asks as he palms the metal radiator.

“Right now? No. I thought the heat was off?” You reply, your statement coming out as a half-question. “No, I have it turned on, but none of the bloody radiators will get hot,” Kyle shakes his head and huffs in frustration.

You sigh and your brows furrow a bit, suddenly remembering the blizzard that everyone’s been buzzing about. Every shopkeeper you’ve spoken to for the past week has warned you that temperatures are bound to drop to the single digits because of the storm.

“I’ll give our landlord a call and see what he has to say,” you say before exiting the room to make the call.

⋆⁺₊❅.

“Okay so,” you begin as you plop down onto the couch twenty or so minutes later. “There’s good news and bad news. Which do you want first?” “Bad news first, always,” Kyle replies, taking a seat beside you.

“The bad news is that no one’s available to come look at our furnace for a few days. Kevin said the soonest he can get someone over here is Monday.” “And the good news?”

“Well, he said that he feels really bad about this happening right before the storm, so he’s dropping off a space heater to keep the apartment somewhat warm.”

“A singular space heater?” Kyle raises his right brow at you.

“I know, I know. But at least it’s something to keep us warm,” you reply, trying to look on the bright side of the situation at hand. “We can keep it in the livingroom. That way our shared space will be warm.”

“And what about our bedrooms?” your roommates asks, tilting his head.

“We’ll just have to bundle up, but I’m sure we won’t completely freeze to death.” “Always the optimist, aren’t you?,” he chuckles at you while shaking his head.

⋆⁺₊❅.

No amount of blankets can help keep the cold away that night as the temperatures fall to sub-zero and the wind bellows outside. You curse the old, drafty windows of your apartment as you pull your comforter up to your neck in a futile attempt to get warmer. No matter how many blankets you burrow underneath, the cold finds a way to creep into your bones, causing goose pimples to dot your flesh.

“Fuck me,” you sigh out as you move to sit upright. Wrapping a blanket around your shoulders, you get up and head for the living room, desperate for the respite of that little space heater. You’re surprised to see the bright glow of the TV given the time, almost two in the morning. Some nineties sitcom illuminates the already warm room when you enter.

“Can’t sleep either?” Kyle asks as he sits up on the couch to make space for you.

“No, it’s freezing in my room,” you shake your head as you take a seat next to him and wrap your blanket more snugly around your torso.

“Yeah, mine too. I came in here about an hour ago for the heater, but even now I still can’t sleep. This bloody couch is too uncomfortable” Kyle pauses and his deep brown eyes fall to the floor for a brief moment before he looks back up at you. “I have an idea. What if we shared my bed?”

“Share your bed?” Your lips part slightly and you stare at your roommate wide-eyed. “Are you serious?”

“Course I am. Two bodies generate more heat that just one. Why do you think Price and I have to share a tent when we’re out in the field?”

You purse your lips and think about his argument for a moment. He is right. Plus, sleeping in his bed seems far more appealing than trying to sleep on your cheap IKEA couch.

“You don’t think it’ll be… I don’t know… Weird?” You ask, somewhat anxious about sharing a bed with your roommate.

“No, I don’t think so,” Kyle shakes his head in response. “We’re just two friends trying to keep warm, yeah?”

Your eyes trace the lines of the hardwood floor for a few seconds before you look back up, you eyes meeting Kyle’s in the dim light of the living room. Finally, you nod gently.

“Alright. Yeah, let’s share your bed,” you reply, standing up off the sofa.

“Good, glad you agree,” Kyle speaks, unplugging the portable heater to move it to his room. “You know, it’s not often I have to convince a girl to join me in bed.”

“I should smack you for that, Garrick,” you laugh as you begin the short walk to his bedroom.

Once inside his sparsely decorated space, you two waste no time getting comfortable, eager for warmth and the peaceful embrace of sleep. The streetlights outside cast a faint glow of orange into the room, providing you with a bit of light to adjust the blankets. In the darkness, both you and Kyle fail to see each other’s hands and his fingers fall atop yours.

“Bloody hell,” he curses quietly, taking your hand into his large, warm palms. “Your hands are freezing. Let me warm them up for you.”

Kyle takes your other hand and clasps them together before enveloping both of your hands with his. He moves to lay down and you follow suit. As you settle down beside him, you notice his eyes, now full of an unfamiliar tenderness. Your heart begins to beat faster and your mouth suddenly feels dry.

“I bet this isn’t something you do with Price when his hands get cold at night,” you quip in an attempt to ease your nerves. Sure, you and Kyle have lived together for just over a year and you’ve known each other even longer, but his face has never been so close to yours. Not this intimately at least. Here he is, just mere inches from your face, his hands clasped around yours, his legs brushing against yours periodically.

“No, definitely not something I do with the Cap,” Kyle chuckles as his thumb caresses your hand. Your eyes fall shut at the soothing sensation.

Kyle whispers out your name to get your attention and for a brief moment you swear that his voice tremors. You hum in response to him.

“You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes open and you blink at him, fully believing that your ears are playing tricks on you.

“I think it all the time, but I never say anything because we’re friends. I’d hate to make things awkward between us,” he continues, moving one of his warm palms to gently cup your jaw.

“Kyle, I…” your words slow and although your lips move, you can’t bring yourself to finish your thought. Time seems to slow as Kyle leans in somehow closer and closes the gap between you two. His lips are warm and soft against yours, simultaneously familiar and foreign, as if you should have kissed him a long time ago.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” you breathe after he pulls away for a moment. Kyle wastes no time and you presses his lips against yours once more. He’s waited years for this and now that he’s tasted you, he can’t get enough.

Kyle’s gentle kisses quickly turn fervent and hungry, and he nips at your lower lip to explore you further. His tongue slips into your mouth and you whine pleasantly at the intrusion, bringing your hands to clasp the back of his neck.

“Your hands feel much warmer now,” Kyle purrs into your ear, his voice now deeper and accent thicker. “You like me warmin’ you up like this?”

“Yes… yes!” you pant, still breathless from his kisses. Kyle’s lips move to your jaw and down your neck, interchanging kisses with small nips at your flesh. His large palm grips your hip firmly before drifting upward, lifting the hem of your sweatshirt.

“Just say the word and I’ll stop.”

“Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

WIth your command, Kyle moves on top of you, spreading each of your legs to make space for his broad hips. He continues to press kisses and small bites into your neck, working his way down to the base of your neck where he sucks harshly at your skin. You whine at the sensation, not caring that you’ll have to wear high-necked shirts for days to come to hide the bruises. Your hands move down Kyle’s back, fingertips savoring each and every bulging muscle you can feel, until you reach the seam of his shirt. Without speaking, Kyle pulls back and grabs his shirt by the collar, pulling it over his head and tossing it elsewhere in the room. He turns his attention back to your shirt, now bunched up around your waist, and slowly lifts it up your torso.

“Holy shit…” Kyle breathes, in awe of your topless form. He leans down to take your right nipple in his mouth and brings his palm to toy with your left breast, the warmth of his hand counteracting the still-frigid air of the room. Soft moans escape your lips as your buds harden against his tongue and fingers.

“Kyle,” you whine, feeling arousal pool in your pajama pants.

“Can I make you feel good, darlin’?” the Londoner husks before kissing his way down your torso. You nod and moan softly, causing Kyle to lift his head to look up at you. He tsks and shakes his head, displeased by your lack of verbal confirmation.

“Use your words for me, baby,” Kyle commands lowly, before pressing kisses to the flesh of your hips.

“Make me feel good, Kyle.” His lips trail a few inches lower before they reach the top of your pajama pants and his hands work to slide them down your legs. You spread your legs a bit wider, allowing Kyle to see the small wet spot in your panties.

“Fuck me. That all for me, dove? Just from kissing?” the Londoner asks as he presses his thumb into the spot and rubs small circles.

“Kyle, please-” you whine. “Stop teasing!”

Your roommate chuckles at your desperation, reveling in how quickly you’ve come undone before him. Kyle hooks his index fingers around your panties and carefully slides them down your legs. His dark eyes go wide at the sight of your pussy and he curses underneath his breath before he leans in and his mouth is on you. Mewls and moans fall from your lips as Kyle’s tongue connects with your clit.

“Oh, Kyle… Just like that,” you breathe as your fingers caress his hair. The gentle scratch of your fingernails causing him to groan, sending vibrations through his throat and straight to your bud. Kyle’s mouth is, unsurprisingly, skilled. With the number of girls he’s brought back to your shared apartment, it’s not unexpected that the man knows exactly how to use his lips and tongue on your cunt. The alternation between quick licks and languid circles works you closer and closer to the edge. You mewl when you feel one of Kyle’s thick fingers begin to prod at your entrance before fully pushing his index finger in.

“You like that? Me gettin’ you ready to take my cock?” Kyle asks before bringing his lips back to your clit. You can only respond with another moan as he inserts his middle finger, the two easy sliding in and out of your soaked hole.

“Kyle! Kyle! Kyle!” you cry out as if his name is the only sound your voice can produce. “I’m- I’m so close!”

“Go on, dove. Cum in my mouth.”

Those two sentences cause the knot inside you to snap, and you cum harder than you ever have. A combination of Kyle’s name, moans, and curses escape from your throat as pure pleasure floods your veins. Your roommate’s tongue continues to lap at your clit softly, working you through your orgasm.

When the pleasure becomes too much to bear, you whine, and give Kyle’s head a gentle push. He promptly backs away and kneels in front of you, dark eyes focussed on your face, glossy-eyed and slack-jawed from your climax. Kyle slides his pajama pants and boxers down his legs in one swift motion, his cock springing free from the material. Your eyes settle on his dick, rock hard and already leaking milky precum from the tip.

“Oh, darlin’,” he sighs as he climbs on top of you. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Kyle rubs his cock through your slick folds, occasionally using the tip to rub up against your sensitive clit. Your hands wrap around the back of his neck to hold him close.

“Kyle,” you whine after several moments of his motions. “Please don’t tease me.”

“Why not? You that desperate to take me?” he asks, leaning down so his lips are mere inches from your ear. “You want me to fuck you, dove?” “Yes. Oh, God, yes!” You cry out in response. Your reply satiates him and Kyle presses the tip of his erection against your hole. The two of you moan in unison as Kyle slides his thick cock into your pussy.

“Bloody hell,,” Kyle grunts out as he begins to move his hips, settling into a steady rhythm. “I’ve wanted this… I’ve wanted you for so long.”

After a few moments of his motions, Kyle’s large palms move to grab onto your hips, angling them upward slightly. At this new angle, you can feel the thick head of his cock perfectly prodding at that sweet spot inside of you. Your hands travel down his sculpted back, fingernails leaving small scratches in his flesh. Moans fall from your open lips, only silenced when Kyle leans down to kiss you.

His pace only becomes faster with time, growing feverish and desperate as he chases after his climax. Grunts and husky moans escape from Kyle’s throat as he inches closer and closer to his sweet release.

“God!” Kyle cries out, breaking away from the kiss. “You feel like heaven around me. Look so fuckin’ gorgeous right now.” You can only whine in response, too blissed out to form any cohesive response.

“Talk to me, darlin’. Tell me how you’re feelin’.”

“Feels… so good, Kyle! God… I’m so close to cumming again,” you manage to choke out in between moans.

“I’m close too, dove. I’m not gonna last much longer,” Kyle grunts out in response right as his hips stutter and his pace falter a bit. You wrap your legs around his hips, wanting to hold him close. The sensation of an orgasm fills your body once more and before you can stop it, you’re arching against him and pleasure floods your veins. Your legs fall to either side of his hips, feeling like jelly after after careening over the edge.

“That’s it, baby. Cum on my cock. Good girl,” Kyle pants lowly into your ear while he thrusts into you. His last few motions are much quicker and rougher, longing for his own orgasm. With a moan he pulls out of you and strokes his cock a few times before his seed shoots from the tip, coating your stomach in thick ropes of milky-white fluid.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes before collapsing beside you. Kyle buries his face in the crook of your neck, trying to regain his breath and recover from his climax. “That was incredible, darlin’. You’re incredible.” “So were you,” you reply in a voice just above a whisper, still light-headed from the immense pleasure. Wordlessly, Kyle rolls over, reaches for a tissue from the box on his bedside table, and wipes his cum off of your stomach. Now clean, he gathers you in his arms and pulls you in so that your faces are just mere inches from one another.

“You don’t know how many nights I’ve fantasized about doing that with you,” Kyle admits, a small smile on his lips.

“Oh so you were fantasizing about me?” you raise your brows at him.

“Well, yeah. I mean, how could I not?” Kyle asks while sliding his hand down your back to give your ass a small squeeze. You giggle breathily in response. “You feelin’ warmer now?”

“Yes, much warmer,” you mutter. The warmth from the space heater, your two orgasms, and Kyle’s body making it difficult for you to ward off your drowsiness.

“Good, I’m glad,” Kyle whispers to you before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “If you feel cold again while the heat’s still out, just let me know. I’m more than happy to warm you up again.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” you mumble before giving into the sweet embrace of sleep.

418 notes · View notes

otto-s-alskling · 6 days

Text

Y/N, deadpanning, still in the back seat: I got kidnapped to be here.

Soap : You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast?

Price: Several traffic violations.

Gaz : Three counts of resisting arrest.

Ghost : Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks.

Gaz : Also, that’s not our car.

1K notes · View notes

otto-s-alskling · 6 days

Text

1.8k / 24 / soap soulmate au, part 4

...

Price takes a seat opposite you. Ghost stands behind him, massive arms crossed. Price folds his hands together.

"Tea?" he asks.

You say nothing.

"Ghost, go get us some tea."

Ghost leaves. Price examines you, drumming his fingers against the table. He acts friendly. But he's not playing. You have no doubt he'll extract the information he needs by any means necessary. You need to make sure he doesn't figure out which of your buttons to press.

"You're Soap's girl," he says.

You say nothing. His stare presses in on you as heavily as the silence, pushing your back into your seat.

"Who is he to you?"

You shift, uncomfortable in your chair. "A stranger." You roll your shoulders as if trying to shrug off the implications. "An enemy, ostensibly."

Price leans closer. "You kiss your enemies often?"

Not until Johnny walked into your patrol path.

"Left quite the impression on Soap. You made a bit of a mark on Ghost, too. Not that it’s hard." Price leans back, giving you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "He’s got a soft spot for Soap, hm? So he doesn't want you hurt. Doesn't want Soap put out."

You remain silent, but it doesn't seem to bother him. He studies you, utterly calm. He's trying to read you. It's obvious he has some kind of game plan, and now he thinks you have one, too.

"Weren't quite planning to walk into someone like him, were you? Things happened, didn't they? Things you had to work through."

"No."

"Really. 'Cause with the way you're acting, I'd wager you had different plans for yourself. Now you're all twisted up in this. Plans got ruined because he came along. Maybe you've got your own plans, hm? Got a whole life back home. A career, clearly. Nice little house. Maybe you've got a boyfriend already."

"What do you want?" you grit out.

"Access, love," he says, like this whole interrogation is just a pleasant chat. That new base of yours, the one Graves commandeered. How do you like it?"

"Barely seen it."

"I imagine you're rather busy lately, then. Lot on your mind. Shepherd must have you working hard." You notice a muscle twitching in his jaw. He has an iron grip on his temper. "But you saw enough of it to get a good look around, hm? The layout, the security, the systems. Tell me about it."

"I don't know anything."

"Nothing?" He leans forward again. He doesn't seem to like that answer. "The security cameras. The guards. The patrols. The sensors." His voice is low. "You don't know anything about those?"

"Didn't ask."

"Hm." His shoulders lift in a slight shrug as the expression on his face hardens further. "You didn't ask." He repeats. "Didn't ask. Didn't ask..." Then he pauses, staring through you. He leans back again. "No, of course not. You follow orders. You do your job. Can't fault you for that." He speaks with a cool tone, but there's a tightness in the lines of his jaw as he says it. "And now you're here and your buddies are gone. Just you. The only target left." He lets the silence stretch out. "Do you think Graves'll come for you?"

"No."

"Hm. Why not?"

"I'm a nobody."

"Hmmmmm." His smile doesn't change, but the lines around his eyes shift as if he finds that amusing. "And you're perfectly content with that? With knowing that when you walk into that base every day, you'll just be another body for Graves to throw onto the heap?”

You hold his gaze. "Yes."

"You don't think you're worth more than that?"

You say nothing.

The smile is still there, but his eyes narrow. He's judging you. Judging your worth. You hold his gaze. He seems to recognize something in you--that you're telling the truth. You know what you are. You're a mercenary. You're expendable.

"You must have a low opinion of yourself." He sighs, crossing his arms and settling a little further into his chair. "You've accepted you're not walking out of this base, then."

You nod.

Price examines you, eyes narrow and intense. Peeling you apart. You're certainly not an idiot. Smart enough to know you're expendable; loyal enough to take orders, keep your mouth shut, and follow through without asking questions. Not the type of soldier he prefers, but in the right hands, you'd be lethal.

Tough to crack, too. He rubs his chin. Hard to threaten someone who doesn't have anything to lose.

Two sharp knocks on the door herald Ghost, who slips back inside and closes the door. He's not carrying tea.

"Might want to pick up the pace," Ghost says. "Soap's back."

You stiffen, as much as you try not to show it.

Price's gaze flicks over to you, noting the tensing of your shoulders. "He knows?"

"Affirmative, sir. Someone outside must've seen her mark and tipped him off."

At that moment, there's a banging on the door. Johnny's voice echoes from the other side. "LT!"

Hearing it is a punch to the gut.

Soap keeps knocking. "Ghost, get yer lyin' arse out here!"

Price looks at Ghost and nods toward the door. "Go on, then, handle it."

Ghost curses under his breath and slips outside.

"Hell's fuckin' bells, LT, what's goin' on?"

Ghost's reply is too low and muffled to catch.

"Busy with what?" Soap snaps. "I know she's here. I need to see her."

Ghost's reply this time sounds harsher.

"Like hell I'm not. That's my goddamned soulmate, aye? My girl. I've got a right to see her. You'll not keep me from the one person in the whole bloody world that's mine."

"Captain's interrogating her." Ghost's tone is low and loud now, a warning. "You don't get special privileges with her."

Soap lets loose a string of colorful curses. You can make out roughly half of them through his accent. "What does Price think she's got that's so bloody important I don't get to know about it?"

"She's a Shadow, Johnny. Chrissake."

"Aye, an' she's in that room goin' it alone. She needs me."

Your heart twists in your chest, and it forces out a breath you didn't know you were holding. It's eating at your resolve. Just hearing him speak about you is making you want things you shouldn't. He sounds like he wants to protect you. Like you're worth something to him. You try to shake it out of your head. You're a prisoner here. This isn't a love story. He doesn’t love you. He doesn't know you.

Then you look up, and your blood goes cold. Price is staring at you, and he's smirking.

His eyes move over you, dissecting you piece by piece, and you feel your expression revealing too much. He saw your mask slip. He saw what you're concealing.

"I'll be damned." His smirk grows. "I thought Shadows were all cold-blooded bastards."

Your mouth twitches like it wants to bare teeth. "Go to hell."

"Ghost," he calls mildly at the closed door, "get in here. And bring Soap, would you?"

No no no no. Panic washes over you. You pull at your cuffs, feeling yourself lapse into a freeze response. Not Johnny. You can't face him. You try desperately to get a grip on your body's reaction, to remember your training.

You turn your head away from the door and fix your eyes on the opposite corner of the room. Among the many rifles and launchers racked on the walls, you find a pistol and you concentrate on it as hard as you can. You study the polish smudged near the mouth of the barrel. The scarred grip.

Behind you, the door opens.

Soap is across the room in moments. He kneels next to you, his hands falling to your arm, to your shoulder, your neck. His thumb brushes across one of the many cuts on your cheek.

You feel outside of yourself. Soap seems too fixated on your state of being to notice.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ. What did you rat bastards do to my girl?" he growls.

"She did this to herself," Ghost says. He puts his hand on Soap's shoulder. "And we need her restrained while we question her--"

"Back off," Soap warns, brushing his hand away. "Am not dealin' with you right now."

Price cuts in, voice firm. "Soap, cool off. Now."

Soap's temper flashes hot. His jaw clenches. His muscles tense. But he takes a deep, steadying breath. "Aye, Captain," Soap says. He straightens up, his hands falling away from your face. But it's clear his blood is still simmering. "Permission to remove her cuffs."

"Negative," Price says. Soap starts to say something, but Price cuts him off. "No. She's unpredictable. You know that as well as we do. We can't afford to trust her until we understand what Graves' orders are."

Soap curls and uncurls his fists, evidence of the sheer will he's exerting to keep his feet planted where they are. "And what do you expect me to do? Just leave her here? Not say a word to her?"

That smirk curls Price's lips again. "Quite the opposite. I'd like you to do the talking for us."

Price stands and gestures to Ghost again, and Ghost guides Soap by the shoulder over to him. Soap resists on principle for a moment before his mind catches up and he walks stiffly to the other side of the table.

“She has information we need," Price says. "Alejandro, remember? Once that's squared away, we'll need no hostage. You understand me?"

There's a beat of silence.

"You want me to interrogate her," Soap says.

"I want access," Price replies.

"And once I have the information?"

"Then she’s all yours. You can do whatever you like. Let her go. Hell, drive her to the airport if you want. But until then" --Price's hand lands on Soap's shoulder and pushes him down into the interrogator's seat across from you-- "she doesn't leave this room. You understand?"

You feel Soap's eyes on you.

"Fine. I'll do it. But it's gotta be me and her. No one else. You let me do my job the way I know it needs to be done."

"Hm." Price glances at you. You're still concentrating on the pistol on the far wall. "That's just fine. Ghost, let's give 'em some time alone."

Ghost follows Price out of the room, closing and locking the door behind them.

"Sir?" Ghost's voice is low and uncertain.

"Trust me, Soap is the leverage we needed. He'll do just fine.”

Ghost is quiet for a moment. "If he keeps his head on straight."

Price hums in agreement, his smile genuine now. "If he keeps his head on straight."

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / [part 4] / part 5

more Soap / masterlist tag

680 notes · View notes

otto-s-alskling · 9 days

Text

Y/N: Cap's Sanity

Soap: Rules are made to be broken.

Price: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken.

Gaz: Uh, piñatas.

Soap: Glow sticks.

Ghost: Karate boards.

Soap: Spaghetti when you have a small pot.

Gaz: Rules.

Price:

711 notes · View notes

otto-s-alskling · 9 days

Text

Poly!Ghoap X Reader Part 4

"Tiny Little Thing"

Ghost watched you from his small corner in the common room, your legs across Soap's lap as you read some book that God knows where you found or bought from. Soap was busy chattering about with Gaz, the two in their own little world as they talked about some game that they're waiting for on the telly that's playing commercials in the background.

Ghost really thought about telling Soap, really. He thought of telling what Price is planning and how he has handpicked you (just like them) to be an official part of the 141. But then:

One. It's now deemed confidential by Price, so that's a whole shebang of legal trouble. That might just affect the processing for her paperwork.

Two. Soap is bound to just be horrendously excited about the news, ecstatic even, that he might slip up and tell others. And Price would immediately know he's the culprit who started it.

And three. Ghost is a petty motherfucker and he KNOWS Soap stole a kiss from you without his knowledge and has one upped him over you.

Ghost rolled his eyes at the memory from the latest mission before sauntering over to sit next to you, forcing you to lean against him as you read instead of leaning on some throw pillows.

The game on the telly continues and the two Sergeants focuses their eyes on the game, making you glance at Ghost to see if he's watching the game too.

HE IS NOT.

He's watching you, his eyes pensive and impossibly blue underneath the balaclava. He took a second to peek at Soap and Gaz and lifted up his mask just a tiny bit, one finger under your chin to make you face him.

In time of the cheers in the telly as their supported team scores, Ghost's head swoops down to yours, pressing a quick and silent kiss on your lips before immediately pulling back with the mask sliding back in its place like nothing happened.

You blinked, feeling a great deal of deja vu at what just happened, and you glared at Ghost but the British man just smirks in his balaclava, his eyes now on the telly in front of them.

You huffed before looking at the Sergeants, the two none the wiser and unaware of the rather public stunt that Ghost just pulled.

Quite funny how Soap did it in private and Ghost did it in public. You honestly thought it'd be the other way around.

All you can do is sigh and glance back down to continue reading your book, ignoring the red flags that Zade has in the story in hopes that you can also ignore the two men that has kept you in their sights, probably not as worst but just as bad as Addie's.

Time ticked by and once the game is done, the chatter continues when your phone buzzed in your pocket.

You excused yourself as usual, not comfortable opening texts in front of them, especially since Soap has the tendency of reading your texts.

Once in the hallway, you took your phone out and in a few clicks felt dread and anxiety spike up as you read the text you received. Maybe you should have opened it when you were with them.

Kate Laswell: Captain Price wants to speak with you. ASAP.

💋 Tally:

MacTavish: |

Riley: |

Tagged: @littleghostbride @openup-yourmind @v1x3n @xo-hayleyy-xo @vmaxis @mangohobbit @sodavrr @flameohotpotatooo @shadowtfpcod @sobbingnshtting @rosiehale23

130 notes · View notes

otto-s-alskling · 9 days

Text

Hormones Pt.3

Back to Masterlist - Taglist Form

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

(little note at the end that if you read I'll really love you)

“What?!”

“It's me, can I come in, love?”

“What do you want, Ghost?” You ask with your face buried on the pillow.

The door opens, just long enough for him to enter and then he closes it behind him, locking it. You turn your head, a questioning look on your face, and he raises his hands to prove innocence.

“It's just to keep Johnny away.” He says, sitting down on the bed behind you and pulling your legs over his lap. “I wanted to apologise”

That gets you interested, because the man may be many things, but he is prideful and doesn't apologise too often.

“Why?” You ask, propping yourself up on your elbows and looking back at him.

“For being an asshole, and talking to you as badly as I did.” He admits, his warm hand engulfing your calf caressing it with his thumb. “It had never happened to me before, you know? Not being able to say what I meant to say, and just saying something stupid instead.”

You think for a moment, about risking it with a stupid question, but it's not like you have anything to lose and your brain is still too focused on thinking about his crotch before he covered with the pillow.

“It sounds like you have a crush on my, Ghost.” You try softly, looking at his eyes.

“Feels like it, too.” He says without breaking the eye contact. You are a bit surprised by his straightforward approach, not hiding behind words.

His hand travels up your thigh when you turn around, sitting up to face him; legs still over his lap and his hand on the side of your leg. You look up to him, waiting for him to say that he is joking; but he doesn't.

Still, inside of your head, there is this voice that reminds you that this is the same person who has treated you like garbage, that he is your superior and that until mere minutes ago he has never shown any kind of interest in you.

It is a nice thing your brain tells you these things, but it's not like you are going to take them into account; not when you can feel the heat radiating from Ghost’s boner against your leg, feeling it twitch when he sees you looking at it.

“I saw the way you were looking at me this morning, love.” He says, making you peel your eyes away from his crotch and up to his eyes, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “It is not nice for a soldier to have her mind occupied with thoughts when they are working, you know?”

“Is it not?” You ask, clearly reading his intentions, moving to sit yourself on top of his lap.

“Yeah… thinking about fucking your CO, sergeant.” He says, griping your hips and starting to grind you against his crotch, slowly and without real strength, letting you get away if you would want. You don’t. “I could get you in trouble, you know?”

“I don't want to get in trouble.” You mutter, unable to speak more loudly, as you feel his hardening dick rub against you, annoyed with the clothes in between.

“Of course you don't, you are a good girl, right?” He asks lifting his mask, up to his nose so his mouth is exposed. You lean in, suddenly desperate to kiss him, only for his hand to grab your jaw forcing you to look up as his mouth finds its way to your neck. “Speak up, sergeant.”

You struggle to do so when he starts to kiss your neck, feeling like lava dripping down your skin with how hot his breath is. “Yes, sir.” You respond breathlessly, feeling him smile against your skin satisfied with your answer.

“Are you going to be a good girl for your lieutenant and let me have a taste, love?” He whispers against your neck, making you whine as an answer, earning yourself a hard slap on your asscheek. “I don't like to repeat myself, sergeant. Speak up when I ask you something.”

“Yes, sir.” You respond quickly, still whining, too turned on to bother about embarrassment, you’ll care about that tomorrow morning.

Ghost takes the hem of your shirt, pulling it up your head in a smooth motion; he doesn't bother to take off your bra, simply slips your arms out of it and pushes it down which pushes your boobs up and out just for him. He doesn’t waste time before biting the side of your boob, making you groan at the sting before he licks over it.

You move your hand up to the back of his head, wrong move because he quickly grabs both your arms moving them behind your back holding them in place and causing you to arch your back, pushing your chest more against his face. He hums satisfied with the outcome and starts to suck your nipples into his mouth nibbling on it softly.

You moan pulling your head back, letting him guide your hips with his other hand; helping you grind against his growing erection. Ghost’s mouth travels from one boob to the other, leaving a wet trail of spit in the process across your chest.

There is hunger in the way he keeps eating you, you can feel him bite down on the skin of your chest; most of them are soft just satisfying the need to feel you, but there are a couple of them that you are sure will leave a mark on your skin. Not that you mind, with the way you can feel your hips stutter each time he does it, clenching around nothing and making you grow desperate for more.

“Ghost… please” You moan, looking down at him and you see his pupils dilate when he makes eye contact with you. Something about the image of you looking down at him, while he feels you in his mouth truly makes him lose the little bit of restraint he had.

He let go of your arms, moving instead to undo your belt and your trousers. He moves his face up to your neck again, before he whispers urging you to take off your trousers. “I want you to sit on my face, love. I want to feel you suffocate me. Fuck my face, please sweet girl.” He groans, grinding up hard against your cunt making you moan, just for him to lift you up enough to pull your trousers down, getting stuck on your ankles because of your shoes.

He smirks, an idea crossing his mind and he looks at you with mischievousness that makes you shudder. He notices you try to undo your laces to take off your shoe and he quickly slaps your hand making you look at him with a confused expression. He moves so he can lay down on your bed and pulls you with him; you try to complain that you need to take off your trousers or you will choke him and it is then that you realize his plan.

With you kneeling over his face, he raises his head and lays it back over your scrunched-up trousers on your ankles. His weight causes your ankles to pull closer together, which makes your knees pull apart and your hips to go lower. You realize then that you are stuck, unable to move your legs apart or your hips up without falling back.

Ghost smiles when he notices you realize and pulls his hands up to rip apart your panties making you gasp at the sudden movement, feeling lightheaded with the way he rips the fabric as if it was a piece of paper.

He doesn't let you complain any further, too desperate to launch himself at your glistering cunt. He groans at the same time you moan when he finally gets a taste of your arousal on his tongue, automatically getting addicted to your taste only urging him to eat you harder.

His hand grab your thigh at each side of his head as if you could actually move away from his face. You grab the headboard, needing to grab something for some kind of support. He has barely started to move his tongue and your legs are already shaking with the desperate way he is eating you out.

You feel his tongue move flat from your leaking hole up to clit, the tip of his tongue catching on your hood and giving it a flick which makes your legs twitch against his head making him groan satisfied with your reaction only for him to repeat the movement again and again.

Ghost starts to get too pussy drunk to really think about what he is doing, only caring about the taste of your fluids in contrast with the taste of your skin; and it makes you grow frustrated with the lack of attention where you really want it. This makes you need to take matters into your own hands, and you move your hand down to grab his mask hard enough that you know you are grabbing his hair under it as well.

He looks up to you, offended you would dare to bother him when he is having the feast of his life; but the look on your face quickly shuts him up before he can say anything. “I thought you wanted me to fuck your face, sir. Stick your tongue out.” Your order, his dick twitches behind you at the dictational tone and he immediately follows your order.

You grin down at him, satisfied with the way his body betrays him; and you grab his mask and hair harder pushing his head slightly back before you grin down on his mouth moaning throwing your head back.

You move back and forward, delighted with the way his nose catches your clit with each thrust and the way his tongue twitches with each grunt and moan that exits his throat. You turn your head to look at his crotch and chuckle when you see the way his boner is being constricted with his trousers.

You pity him and undo his belt, getting your hand inside his trousers and grabbing his cock with only the fabric of his boxers in between his and your skin, the wet spot of precum doesn't go unnoticed. “Are you going to fuck me nicely with this, Ghostie?”

You feel him nod against your fold which makes you moan softly, but you want to give him a taste of his game and you grab hard his dick. “Speak up, leiutenant.”

He whines against your cunt, and you already know how the rest of the night is about to go. “Yes, fuck, yes, love. I’m going to fuck you so fucking nice you are not going to want to be with anyone else. I promise, love.”

You chuckle at the desperation of his voice, and go back to grinding his face leaving his dick unnatended and leaking precum, making the wet spot on his underwear only grow wider. You grab his hand from your leg and move it behind you, sticking two fingers up and sinking yourself on them.

Ghost feels like a human dildo with the way you are fucking his hand and mouth with no remorse for his needs, and he fucking loves it. The only thing keeping him from wishing you would last forever being the feeling of his dick about to burst.

You keep a hand on his head, your other hand moving to grab his wrist to keep his hand just where you need it. And it doesn't take you long to cum all over his mouth, clenching tight on his fingers. He moans, almost as if he was the one who just finished, and you look down on him; the sight criminal.

You push yourself up, leaning forward, and taking his fingers out of your cunt; your arousal still dripping from them. He slips from under you, sitting on the floor and looking back at you as you finally take off your shoes and the rest of your clothes. Once naked and sitting on the bed you look at him, chuckling softly as you extend your hand to him. “Give me your belt, Ghost.”

He frowns for a second, but obeys, taking it off from the belt loops of his trousers. You take it from his hand and get closer to him putting it around his neck, buckling it at the front. You are not sure of the safety of the make-do collar, and the only reason why you do it is because the man kneeling in front of you could rip it to threads without breaking a sweat; the belt only works as a physical form of the psychological effect you have found to have over Ghost.

You lay your feet over his crotch, making him grunt when you press down; he grabs your leg unconsciously grinding against your feet making you smile. “Tell me, Ghostie. Are you going to fuck me nicely or am I going to do all the work again?” You ask, you know it is not fair, you were the one that chose to do all the work of fucking his face. Still, the way he whines when he feels the ball of your feet press harder makes it worth it. “Yes! Yes, I will. I’ll fuck you nicely, love. I will.” He moans making you groan, going on a little power trip yourself.

You let the belt rest down his chest, taking notice just now that he is still completely naked; just his belt out of place and it only turns you on more. You turn around, getting on your knees and hands, and raise one of your hands back to him.

He takes your hand in his, making you frown and slap his hand away. “The belt, Ghost.” He looks down when he sees you pointing at his chest as if he just realised you had collared him. He leans forward, letting the end on the belt on your hand; you twist it around your wrist tugging at it and making him lean more, kneeling behind you on the bed. His hips collide with yours making the two of you moan softly and you look at him only to whisper. “Take your dick out and fuck me until I forgive you for being such an asshole to me, lieutenant.”

“Yes, my love” He whispers back, pulling down his trousers and underwear, only to take his thick veiny dick out, so heavy it can’t stand up; forcing him to fist it to align it with your cunt. When his tip catches with your hole, his hips pushing it the slightest, you lay your head on the mattress, arching your back and tugging the belt over your head to urge him forward getting deeper.

Ghost grunts on your ear as he does, pushing his hips forward slowly, stretching you slowly; his two fingers that you previously fucked being far from enough to stretch your cunt to the girth of his dick.

It leaves you with your mouth open, the air of your lungs being pushed out of you as you feel his dick up to your stomach when he finally bottoms out. The two of you stay still for a second, you needing it to get used to the stretch and Ghost needing it to not cum at the feeling of your wet, warm pussy clenching on him like a vice.

He peppers your shoulder and the back of your head between moans, asking for some kind of feedback to know he can keep moving; wanting to let you get used but desperate to keep moving. You give him a slight tug of the belt, already lacking strength and moan through gritted teeth when you feel him pull back slowly and shove it back inside just as slowly.

His arms go around your middle, hugging you from the back, the weight of him on your back pushing your face harder against the mattress but loving the crushing weight of his body against you as he starts to pick up his pace. The way his dick keeps hitting against your cervix should be painful if it wasn't because of the way he keeps rubbing that spot inside of your cunt that makes your eyes roll back.

You feel him plant his feet down on the mattress, pulling his chest back; the belt slipping out of your hand feeling too limp to grab it harder. It gives Ghost the room to stand behind you, grabbing your hips to anchor himself to you, and the moment he starts to actually thrust into you, you know you are done for. He quickly finds your soft spot, hitting it not stop with the tip of his dick making your toes curl and his heavy balls begging for a release hitting your clit with each thrust.

Your second orgasm of the night feels like hanging from a rope and it suddenly snapping, you moan his name like a whore, your cunt clenching down so hard it pushes him out as you gush over his lap. Your hips convulsing, unable to remain still because of the force of the orgasm.

Simon groans pulling back to see your pussy clench around nothing as you cum, not able to say anything with the way all his blood is on his dick, his brain unable to form a whole thought further away than to get back inside your warm cavern.

He turns you around, leaving you lying on your back as you look at him astonished. He grabs your ankles, pushing them down beside your head bending you in half at the same time he gets his dick back inside of you moaning and making you whine at the new angle he is hitting.

“Grab the belt, love.” He reminds you, to fuck out to feel cocky about you forgetting it. You quickly grab the belt hanging loosely around his neck, giving it a tug pushing him forward and kissing him messily. Your first kiss with Ghost and you have already come twice and are close to a third time.

Ghost moans against your mouth, teeth clashing against each other with the force he leans forward. You struggle to keep kissing him with the way he is fucking you, thrusting like an animal, hitting deeper than anybody else ever has, clutching the belt more for your own support than to tug at him.

You tug it down, making him push his face against your neck and leaving your ankles resting over his broad shoulders. You feel him suck the skin of your neck, knowing perfectly fine that he is going to leave a mark and it only fuels you to scratch at his back, making sure you leave the same marks back.

His thrust starts to grow sloppier and his moans whinier. You pull your hand down, touching your clit to cum before he finishes it, and he takes it like an insult that gives him a new run of energy, enough to start to thrust hard and deep again, his thumb replacing your hand in playing with your clit.

You throw your head back when you finish for a third time in the time and Ghost bites down on your leg on his shoulder, moaning against it when he finally spills over inside of you making you shudder.

The two of you stay still for a minute, getting your breath back from the strain. Your legs start to cramp and you lightly tap his shoulder for him to get up. He does, groaning when he pulls out and after another second he goes to the bathroom. He comes back with a damp towel to clean you up quickly and throws it on the floor, lying down and pulling you against his chest as he does.

“Lovie?”

“Hm?”

“If this is the outcome of being a dickhead to you… I take back the apology.”

You slap his chest chuckling. You'll think about the feelings and emotional part of today's acts tomorrow, right now, you are too exhausted to think. And Ghost agrees, because before you can even fall asleep you hear him softly snore beside you, hugging you tightly as he sleeps.

The next morning, when the whole team is having breakfast, there is this awkward silence around everyone. Everybody knows Ghost and you fucked last night, both because your room is between Price's and Soap's but also because of the love bites on your neck and belt mark on his.

Fraternization is not something the military looks forward to, but the both of you are adults and you are not technically a member of the team. So Price can't say anything about it. Soap, on the other hand, always has something to say.

“So… I didn't know you had condoms on your room, bonnie. I would have stolen some if I knew you did.”

“I don't have condoms in my room, Soap.” You sigh.

“So, the Lt came prepared yesterday to my room. That's positivity, sir.” He jokes.

“Johnny, cut it out.” Ghost simply says.

Soap looks between the two of you before a grin appears on his face.

“Wait… wait, wait, wait. You didn't hit it raw, right?” Gaz asks, and when neither of you responds he knows; laughing harder.

“So you are telling me, that you did it raw, with you ovulating and with you being pent up for the last month.” Soap asks, laughing as he does.

You look up at Ghost, reality sinking in and blaming your fucking hormonal brain too horny to think about the most basic stuff.

“That's fine, guys. I always wanted a nephew… or a niece.”

And with this, ladies and gentlemen, we come to an end. 💗

I guess we could call it a mini-series, but honestly just because I uploaded it in different parts, I'll probably uploaded to AO3 as a single part if you prefer to read it like that. On my masterlist is the link to my AO3, but you can find me as Lovifie.

I hope you enjoyed a bit more subby Ghostie, and that it wasn't a jump scare.

And to the person who sent me an ask, I'm working on it and I'll upload it soon. 💗

As always, I hope that you guys enjoyed if you did make sure to drop a comment or a message as I love to read you guys. 💗

Also, I may have written a bit something of Dark Gaz this morning, like, quite an asshole, manipulative, selfish Gaz. Let me know if you'll like to read it. 🩷

Taglist: @loveableidioticweirdo @restrictionsapply @cursedforlife @shadowtfpcod @pagesfalling @aelnpruz @dumb12bvtch1212 @risingofjupiter @dukeofjjune @imjustheretofightforlove @becky2021 @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @thatonepupkai @glocuseguardian3rd @soupinasock @arbesa-mind @dilara-del @multifandomheathenannie @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @lunari0 @cmbghost @spadekip

743 notes · View notes

otto-s-alskling · 9 days

Text

Y/N: *constantly switches from Japanese to Russian just to fck with the Americans and cause further chaos.*

Overseas 🇺🇸

9K notes · View notes

otto-s-alskling · 11 days

Text

Almost 2k? Damn... Y'all want another TF141 X Reader type of thing???

TF141 X Hardworker!Reader

"Their Sleepyhead"

You're a hard worker, everyone knows that. God, even Price had to carry you a few times to bring you to bed (and not in *that* way, get your mind out the gutter!) But your insistent attitude of working till you collapse is a trait that the 141 is aware that will never go away, not when they've seen you do it for over three years.

Price

You have your office close to his, connected with an adjoining door which was lucky because you bought your own coffee machine. Majority of the time, you're brewing him a fresh cup of coffee, black with a hint of sugar to cut the full bitterness.

He loves listening to you shuffling and singing next door, sometimes singing back to your songs when duets are playing from your phone but he'd be damn and hide in a hole before he'd let you know that he sings along to you and your velvety voice with his gruff one.

But this also includes him actually hearing you when your head finally thuds down on the desk when you refused to stop working from 5AM till wee hours of the night. He'd peek through the adjoining door first before sighing and picking you up, cradling you close before carrying you out the offices, ignoring looks from the other soldiers still awake late at night. Gaz would immediately walk up to help, opening the doors for Price so he can tuck you into bed, removing your boots before turning off the lamp light. He'd sneak a forehead kiss before closing the door and walking back to the offices, ignoring his racing heartbeat.

Soap

Our Scot is a freaking sweetheart (this is the hill I'll die on.) If he knows Cap isn't in office or in a mission or conference somewhere, you bet your ass he'd delegate himself into keeping company, literally. He'd play on his phone in your office couch, nothing too loud but just enough to be there.

Talks will be nonstop and he'd teach you some Scottish slangs too, much to a certain Skull masked teammate. He'd even teach you traditions and if he had the time and the energy, he'd do your hair into some Scottish Braids. (Look em up, they're GORGEOUS.)

He'd pause from time to time, get a snack or something and he'd come back with something for you too! And if you fell asleep, you bet he'd transfer you over to the couch and find your emergency blanket and tuck you in.

He'd brush your hair out of your face and plant a kiss on your cheek before sitting on the floor next to the couch, just playing on his phone till he fall asleep himself or if he gets hungry and get another snack. He'd wait till you wake up, and not even Ghost can drag him out the room. Someone had to guard the team's Bonnie after all.

Gaz

If you think he wouldn't help out with the paperwork, you'd be fucking wrong. Being the youngest meant you two are the closest, age wise anyways. Would pause halfway on working to show you something in TikTok or play some random playlist on YouTube or Spotify just to break the silence in the room.

He'd being his own snacks, which also includes a big bar of Cadbury. Sometimes Lindt if he got to visit in the nearby city. Work goes faster so he always try to help out on hell week so you wouldn't handle the full brunt of the workload.

If you fall asleep, he'd switch the music to a lullaby or a soft classical music, keeping you asleep as long as he can anyways. Like Soap, he'd transfer you to the couch but he'd push an armchair flush against the couch to block you in from falling like a pseudo bed (or fort or crib. Do people still do this?)

Tucks you in gently and continues his half of the paperwork before joining you on the couch and cuddling you to sleep. He's not one to pass up in getting to sleep in your arms after all.

Ghost

This man trusts with his life. (He'd never say it out loud.) He wasn't really warm with the idea of having a support member in the team, especially one who's specialty ranges from medic to sniper to assistant. Like how is that even possible? So when he realized that you're one of the most hardworking person he'd ever met, respect was earned... And affection.

It was around halfway the second year when he showed his face to you, the heat surge in the office making it annoying to have the mask. He didn't make a fuss so you didn't as well, just working along with him and Price in the Captain's office and hope to survive the heatwave enough. Door was locked so he was confident enough to do it even if Price did raise an eyebrow for a moment before shrugging it off.

By the third year, he already made it a habit to remove his mask once he got you to your room, finally dragging you to bed even before you fall asleep on the desk. You'd grumble and complain but when he glares you down, you relent anyways, not like you can fight him back easily when he's the largest amongst your teammates. So against your unnecessary complaints, he'd spoon you till you fall asleep, much thanks for your exhausted body and mind. Once asleep, he'd sneak a nap for an hour or two himself before letting you be, heading back to his own room, but not after sneaking a kiss to the hair and hand. For him, you're his hardworking lovie, not that he'd let it slip out to everyone else.

2K notes · View notes

otto-s-alskling · 12 days

Text

Colonel's Girl

You’re the young army nurse on base and König decides to keep a protective eye on you. You don’t mind at all, the Colonel is sweet and safe - until he isn’t.

masterlist 🩷 ao3

tags: military inaccuracies, blood and injury, angst, smut, oral sex, vaginal sex

This was your first time on a real military base. You’d done field medic training of course, but this was the first time in your career as an army nurse that you’d been shipped out to base, far from home, calling a tiny bunk room your own in a building full of rowdy young recruits.

Their daily training brought them to you constantly with scrapes and bruises and concussions. They were feisty, adrenaline-fuelled young men, and you were one of the few women on base. The catcalling and the leering didn’t surprise you, even if it was unwelcome.

“What time do you get off, darlin’?” Private Turner drawled in a cockney accent as you applied butterfly stitches to a bleeding split across his eyebrow. “Maybe I can come to your room and we can keep each other company-”

“Turner!” It was barked, a stern command from an accented voice. The private paled as Colonel König stomped into your clinic, and you blushed. König was a very imposing man. He was at least 6”9 by your reckoning, and just as broad, in his late 30s or early 40s with a thick Austrian accent. His years of military training had given him a thick, muscular frame, with his broad thighs barely contained in cargo trousers and steel-capped boots on his feet, a black tee stretched over his chest and biceps the size of your torso. You knew what he looked like under that hood, square jawed and piercing blue eyes, but today he’d kept it on, his eyes framed and dark. It was no surprise you blushed whenever you saw him.

“Colonel?” He stood and turned. His voice held none of its previous bravado. Next to König, he looked like a mere boy.

“Two weeks of toilet cleaning duty.” König said gruffly, “and if I catch you using that kind of language again, it will be a month. Understood?”

Turner slumped. “Yes, sir.”

“Get out of my sight.”

Turner, chastised, scampered out of your clinic without looking at you.

König turned his hulking form towards you and actually had to look down to greet you.

“Pardon, ma’am. He won’t step out of line again.”

Ma’am . Your blush deepened. You gave him a small, nervous smile.

“Thank you, Colonel, that’s very kind of you.”

“These boys don’t know yet how to respect a lady, but they will.”

“Once you’re done with them?” You smiled playfully.

“If I have done my job correctly.” He said kindly, before turning on his heel and leaving swiftly. You giggled.

You didn’t see much of K önig at the start of training, his rank and his experience meant that he didn’t end up in your clinic as much as his recruits did, but when you did pass each other in the hall or by exchanging paperwork, he was nothing less than a courteous and charming gentleman. It seemed bizarre, considering you’d heard tell that he was a brawling killing machine out on the field, but he could switch from barking stiff orders to giving you a gentle smile that made you blush in the blink of an eye. You had to routinely remind yourself that this didn’t make you special, he was just being respectful, and you weren’t used to that. It didn’t matter that he was a soldier, or nearly twice your age, it didn’t take you long to develop a crush on the handsome and mysterious Austrian.

A few days later and you were stood in line to the mess hall. It was breakfast, and you’d seen the black pudding in the warming trays as soon as you’d stepped in. You were practically salivating as you waited, it wasn’t often you got a creature comfort like this - something that reminded you of home - on base.

“Not often we get this kind of luxury, eh, miss?” You recognised the coarse accent before you turned. Lieutenant Riley had joined you in the line, a balaclava covering his face. You knew him a little, the infamous Ghost. You’d crossed paths with the 141 on occasion, and you knew Riley, sometimes even Captain Price, dropped into the base to provide training or engage your services. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to make polite conversation with you. In fact, it seemed the norm here. The high rankers felt a bit sorry for you, while the recruits made you feel like a piece of meat or an object of ridicule.

You didn’t mind much, you were here to do a job, and you kept to yourself mostly anyway, but the offer of friendship was much appreciated.

You smiled a little shyly in return. “I know, right? I hope the black pudding doesn’t go too quickly. I’ve been thinking about it all morning.”

“A girl after my own heart.” The lieutenant chuckled. In front of you, two privates who had been turning around to eavesdrop on the conversation - more to get a look at Ghost, than you, you understood - burst into laughing at your admission. Your ears turned red and you wished you’d never opened your mouth.

Riley didn’t seem to notice, he was holding his gloved hand out to König, who had somehow appeared next to him in the line since you’d looked away. You actually had to do a double take. For a near seven foot slab of muscle, he was stealthy when he wanted to be.

The two of them talked among themselves in low voices and you left them to it, knowing you didn’t particularly want to hear the contents of whatever they needed to discuss.

You reached the front of the line and the private in front of you - the one who had laughed - piled his tray high with black pudding until the warming tray was empty. He turned and smirked mockingly at you.

“You can have my sausage, darlin’, if you ask nicely.” At least three recruits laughed. You wanted to shrink down so small you stopped existing altogether.

König’s brick hand clamped around the private’s tray and wrenched it easily from his grip.

“Sir-my breakfast…”

“Get out of the line, or I will feed you my fist.” König didn’t even raise his voice, the cold delivery had the private skulking off empty handed. König placed the tray back onto the counter and then he turned to you.

“Help yourself, ma’am.”

“Oh.” Your cheeks were crimson. He cocked his head, his eyes, the only part of his face visible through his black hood, looked amused. It wasn’t unkind. “T-thank you.”

König tipped his hood towards you before turning his attention back to Riley, and the pair of them moved off to a separate table. You sat by yourself, chewing your black pudding, and smiling like an idiot.

You glanced over to König a few times more than you would like to admit. He put you at ease, that’s what it came down to, it gave you a confidence you didn’t usually have around military men.

It was that very ease that left you wholly unprepared for the following week.

It was ballistics training out on the grounds, and you caught wind of an accident halfway through your sandwich.

“Come quick!’ An officer skidded into your office, “there’s been an accident - potential fatality.”

You cursed, and gathered your supplies, before following him out of your clinic and out onto the training ground. Recruits stood nervously holding rifles, their half-shot targets abandoned. A young recruit was wailing on the ground, another kneeling beside him and pressing against his belly with a jacket, there was blood on the sand.

König was towering over a young private - the same young man who had laughed at you in the mess hall, you briefly noted - and barking bloody murder in his terrified face. It took you more than a moment to realise that König wasn’t actually speaking German, you could just barely make a word out in his fury.

It was easy to tune out, you’d been out in the field before, and turn your attention to your patient. You knelt beside the terrified looking private stemming the bleeding, and carefully lifted his jacket to look at his wound while the young man screamed.

“You’re going to be okay.” You said confidently, calmly. “It’s nothing we can’t stitch up. Private, keep putting pressure on the wound, just like this, you’re doing a good job.” Just this once, you were obeyed without question.

“I will have you court-martialed, dummkopf, you could have killed him. You come onto my base, you do not listen to a word I say, and now you attack my men? You sorry piece of -”

“König,” you cut through the accented remonstration, pulling bandages from your bag, “I need your men to carry him to my clinic immediately, then you have to-”

König turned swiftly to you, those bright blue eyes visibly narrowed in the slits of his hood. “Do not fucking give me orders, nurse.” He seethed, voice ice cold with rage, fists clenched and towering over you. “You address me as Colonel, you little girl.” The white hot fury in his eyes matched the venom in his voice. You baulked, in fear, in surprise, horrified to realise tears were gathering in your eyes. You looked back down on the man in your arms and forced yourself to regain your composure.

“I need to get him to my clinic, I can’t lift him myself.” Your voice was steady, if muted, throwing your gaze over your shoulder at König and the recruits staring at you. “Please, colonel .”

König turned from you and began barking your orders at his men and within moments, your patient was being carried between three recruits back to your clinic. You turned and rushed after them. You extracted the bullet from his ribs and sewed up the damage as numbly as you treated any one of your patients. You left your makeshift surgery room with bloody hands and sweat on your forehead, surprised to find König leaning against the wall in your waiting room. He’d stripped out of his uniform to a simple pair of combat trousers and a black shirt that looked like it was losing a fight with his bicep muscles. His hood was held lax in his hand, giving you a rare glimpse at his face. It was no surprise to you that he looked exhausted. He pushed himself from the wall when you entered. Like a gentleman , you thought bitterly.

“Will he live?” He asked you, his voice soft. It was just like every other interaction you’d had on base.

“It was a flesh wound. He’ll be fine, Colonel.” Your words were stiff, and you walked straight past him without even a glance, feeling like a complete idiot that you’d ever thought he might treat you with the slightest bit of respect. You were angry until the adrenaline wore off, then you cried in your bed.

The recruit, Jenkins, pulled through the night, and the next day he was airlifted to the nearest hospital. The accidental shooter was gone, and you didn’t care to ask what had happened. Training was halted for a few days as a result and you had a quiet week, but you weren’t complaining, as you now had a mountainous amount of paperwork to complete. You were grateful when you were able to file the heft of paper into your pigeon hole to be sent off, and rewarded yourself with a sit down in the breakroom to the main office.

You looked up on instinct more than anything when the door opened. König walked in, in combat boots and a military vest, his hood over his eyes and helmet strapped to his head, like he’d just come straight from deployment. He glanced at you with tired blue eyes, but all you could see was the fury in them when he’d scared you the week before. You felt stupid for thinking someone like König would ever be nice to you. You were just the idiot girl on base.

“Morning, ma’am.” He said pleasantly when he saw you, slipping one hand into his trouser pocket as he poured himself coffee from the pot on the table.

“Hey.” You replied, voice flat, suddenly finding your nails remarkably interesting.

“Is everything okay?”

“Fine.” Another one word answer. You still weren’t looking at him.

König shifted uneasily. The atmosphere in the room changed. Of course it did, he was used to you being a blushy, smiling, pathetic mess for him.

Concerned, König crossed the small space to you. He didn’t sit. From what you could see from your lowered head, his hand was no longer in his pocket.

“If this is about what happened…you did well, Jenkins will recover.”

“I know I did fine.” You genuinely didn’t mean to snap. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”

The conversation went dead, the atmosphere was palpable. You didn’t know whether it was his culture, or his military status, but König went right to the point.

“Have I offended you?”

Was he being willfully obstinate? You felt your humiliated aggravation grow. Well, you were in it now.

“Just leave me alone.”

There was a pause. And then another. Neither of you moved.

“As you wish.”

He left swiftly after that, and you finally looked up at the empty room. You felt relieved, but also hollow. It was almost like you’d done something wrong. But you hadn’t, had you? König’s coffee was abandoned on the table.

König left you alone, and that pissed you off even more. He walked past you in the mess hall, he didn’t glance down to smile at you anymore, he didn’t come into the clinic, even though you secretly hoped he would. Your self-esteem was pretty much on the floor after that, and the base got just that little bit lonelier.

Two recruits barrelled into your office a few days later, one had a busted lip and they both had black eyes. They'd clearly been in a fight, but whether that was with each other, or someone else, you didn’t care to ask. You stayed quiet as you applied butterfly stitches to their cuts, and they were happy enough to complain between themselves.

“You’re a dickhead, Williams, the Colonel’s gonna fucking kill us.”

“Relax, he’s not going to know.”

“He’s been such a dick lately. He put Taylor on shit detail for a fortnight for having his shoelace untied.”

“Probably because he has to look at your fucking ugly mug every day.”

“You’re done.” You cut across. “You can go.”

They thanked you and left, and you were grateful to get the foul mouthed privates out of your office.

It was getting dark outside and you were tired. You left your clinic and crossed the training ground to the mess hall. There were still soldiers out here, practising hand to hand combat under the floodlights. You gave them a wide berth.

You didn’t see the abandoned dummy grenade wedged in the sand until your foot hooked around it and you vaulted over with an unladylike grunt.

A large hand curled around your wrist and stilled you before you ate dirt. You cursed under your breath and turned inward. König was towering above you, your wrist positively dwarfed by his gloved hand. His hood obscured his face, shrouding him in the darkness behind him, all except those bright eyes looking down on you.

“You should be more careful.” He grunted, releasing your wrist.

Your eyes hit the ground and you mumbled a hasty ‘sorry’ before you scampered away to the mess hall. König watched your retreating back as you left.

The next few days passed uneventfully. You worked, you ate, you slept, you called home. The clinic was surprisingly empty. You wondered if the recruits were finally becoming competent enough that they didn’t need you every five seconds. You signed off your discharge sheets for the day and headed to the main office to dump them in the output box. You were surprised to find König in there, sans hood, rifling through a box of papers on the desk. He glanced up when he saw you and his expression wilted. He looked back into the box.

“I’ll be out of your hair in a second.” He said. “I just need to find the instruction manual for the - s cheiße .” The papers in his hand fluttered to the ground. He bent down to retrieve them and winced, arm circling his broad torso.

You frowned and took a step closer to him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Nothing.” He replied instantly as he straightened. His movements were slower than usual.

“It doesn’t look like nothing, König, it looks like cracked ribs.”

“It’s fine, really.”

You put your discharge forms on the desk and walked up to him. “Lift your shirt.”

König sighed but complied after a moment. He lifted his dark tee to his pectorals. His deep abdominal muscles rose and fell under his breathing and you found your cheeks reddening under the sight. A makeshift bandage was wrapped around his torso, and you reached out and lifted it. His skin was like lava against your fingers. He didn’t say a word as you lifted the bandage but he may have winced when your eyes widened. The right hand side of his ribcage was purple with deep bruising and lacerated with deep and shallow cuts alike, some were healing, and some were leaving blood stains on the inside of the bandage.

“Oh my god, what happened?”

“Nothing.” König grunted. “Machine gun training. One of the recruits lost control of the barrel and clocked me in the ribs. It is just a scratch.”

“This cut needs stitches.” You said automatically, tracing the underside of the welt with your fingertip. König jolted and you took your hand away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“You didn’t.” He replied.

“I have cream that’ll reduce this bruising too-” König huffed and you looked up at him. You couldn’t quite decipher the expression on his face. He might as well have been wearing his hood.

“It is fine.” He said. “The bruising has disappeared a lot in the last few days…”

“ Days ?” You blinked. “Days, König? You can’t have been walking around like this for days. Why didn’t you come to me?”

There was a pause. He was trying to avoid your gaze.

“You told me to leave you alone.”

“König,” it was reprimanding, reproachful, your eyes slackened. “You always need to come to me when you’re hurt, even when I’m mad. I’m sorry.”

König’s eyes snapping to you made you regret the words as soon as they were out of your mouth. Your gaze dropped to the grazes on his ribs but your cheeks were already on fire.

“Are you ever going to tell me why you are mad at me?”

You didn’t meet his gaze. It seemed pathetic now. “You yelled at me.”

König didn’t respond straight away. When he did - “I yelled at you?”

You fought off the sudden urge to say sorry.

“When Jenkins was shot.” You explained. “I’m not one of your soldiers. I don’t like being screamed at, especially when I’m doing my job.” Your voice dropped a little. “And I’m not a little girl, I’m a nurse. You should respect that, just like the way you tell your troops to.”

You glanced up at König, he looked crestfallen. “I…” He frowned a little, as if giving up on any explanation he planned to give. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head, embarrassed, and lowered his shirt.

“It’s not important now-”

“It is important. I don’t think you are a little girl. Sometimes in battle, things like this become heated. I do not even remember saying this to you, but I am sorry. I do not think that, I truly do not, I was…one of my men was dying, I was not myself. Please forgive me.”

Your eyes met. It felt like the first time you’d looked at each other in a long time. König’s blue eyes were soft and sad.

“Um, come to the clinic, this afternoon,” you rose, flustered, “I, uh, that cut needs looking at.”

You turned swiftly and left but not before you heard König utter a single ‘yes ma’am’ before you did.

You thought about what he said as you sterilised your clinic for his arrival. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment, but you managed to keep your cool? Why didn’t he? Because he’s a soldier, you reminded yourself. He kills easily and without thought, he’s not the sweet gentleman you want him to be. You shook your head to yourself, that wasn’t the issue and you knew it. You didn’t care that he was a killer, or that sometimes he scared you. You knew what his easy dismissal of you meant - and it hurt.

König reported promptly to your clinic at 1pm that afternoon. He stripped out of his shirt and sat patiently down on the end of your bed and you had to pretend like having a 7ft goliath of a man stripped down in front of you wasn’t making your heart race. He truly was extraordinary.

You stitched the large cut on his ribs that was worrying you the most and he didn’t make a sound. it didn’t much surprise you, you assumed he was accustomed to pain. It made your stomach flutter with something .

He was even more impressive undressed, his body heavy with swollen, toned muscle, faded scars criss-crossing over his flesh. You had to remind yourself that you were a trained nurse just to stop yourself from drooling.

König watched you work rather intently. “You have very small hands.” He remarked suddenly. You didn’t respond, unsure if it was a compliment or not. You both lapsed into silence for another long while. It was like a form of torture. You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. You felt like a foolish little girl, trying to play with a grizzly bear. It must have shown on your face.

You didn’t expect König to talk again. He must have thought that you were insane - pathetic, at the very least.

“May I ask you a question?”

Oh. “Of course.”

“Why did you join the military if you hate being yelled at?”

You sighed and finished off your final stitch. “You don’t have to mock me, you know, I already got the message.”

“I am not mocking you. I’m curious.”

Forthright . You forgot.

You took a moment to respond, busying yourself with packing away your equipment. “I didn’t join as a recruit, I joined as a nurse.” You didn’t tell him the real reason, that it was because it was him.

“Right.”

“It’s not your problem.”

König stood, and pulled his shirt back on. “It won't happen again.” He said. “You have my word.”

Your gaze flicked to his handsome face involuntarily. “Um, here’s the cream. Make sure to apply it twice a day, and try to take it easy for a few days.”

König grunted, a ghost of a smile on his face. You could tell he hadn’t taken it easy a day in his life.

“What message?” König asked suddenly.

“Sorry?” You froze, trying to backtrack to that particular exchange.

“You said you ‘got the message’.” He repeated. “What message?”

Oh.

“Um, did I say that?” Your voice was uncharacteristically high. König tilted his head.

“Schatz, my English isn’t that bad. We both heard what you said.”

You blushed and your head dipped. You didn’t know much German, but you knew what ‘schatz’ meant.

“Well, you know-” fuck, shit, fuck . “P-put in your place by the guy you have a crush on. I get it. I got it. I won’t go there again.”

“Crush?” König responded like a lightning strike, before he fell silent. His brain was calculating, before his expression turned to…well, there was no other way to put it, absolutely fucking floored. “You like me?”

Oh, this was very fucking bad.

“Well…yeah? I thought it was obvious-”

“Obvious? Schatz, I thought you hated me.”

You blinked.

“Wha- why would you think that?”

“You told me to leave you alone.”

“You called me a little girl! In front of everyone.”

When exactly had you both gotten so close to each other? It was close enough that König could look down on you, and your heart was skipping a beat.

“You can’t like me.” He said quietly.

You frowned. “Why not? Have you looked at yourself? Plus you’re…you know, nice, and the only person in this dump that doesn’t leer at me or treat me like a stupid little girl. When people aren’t dying, I mean.”

“I…” Was König hesitating? The man who had nothing to fear?

“It’s okay,” you murmured, embarrassed. “Like I said, I get the message. Why would you want a pathetic sap like me who can’t even hear a raised voice without crying?”

“Do not say that.” König looked uncertain, his eyebrows knitting together. “You are like a...a flower. Not meant for men like me.”

“A…” Your brain couldn’t quite compute what you’d just heard. “Men like you? What does that even mean?”

“You need someone younger, for a start.” He sighed. “Someone who has seen less death, verdammt, someone who has caused less death.”

“Men like your idiot recruits, then?”

König didn’t respond.

“I have to go.” He said instead. “Thank you for the…cream.”

“Anytime, Colonel.” It was softly spoken, you watched him freeze, then you watched him go. You smuggled a bottle of wine back to your room and drank until you fell asleep. This really was a new low.

…

The days passed slowly and without incident. On the face of it, there was no difference in you, except for a notably lacklustre delivery of your care.

You were making notes at your desk when Private Jackson and his buddy, Williams, appeared at your desk, complaining of a groin injury.

You rolled your eyes and returned to your paperwork. “I’m sure it’ll feel better tomorrow, private.”

“I’m sure it’ll feel better right now if you kiss it-”

“Shut up,” Williams chuckled, shoving him, “you wanna get a disciplinary? You know she’s the colonel’s girl.”

Your gaze snapped up. “What did you just say?”

Neither of them answered you, they just sniggered and slunk off. You watched the empty doorway with wide eyes. You tried not to ponder on it. You pondered on it for the rest of the day.

…

You signed the bottom of Williams’ sick leave and ticked off the various appropriate boxes, flipping the page and hoping that was all that was required until you froze. It needed the signature of the patient's C.O. König. Shit.

You hadn’t even seen König since he’d rejected you and every time you thought about that particular exchange, your ears went hot and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

You were too much of a pussy to talk to him, so instead you went to his office when you knew he was scheduled to be out at training, and scribbled ‘ sign me please :) ’ on a post it note, stuck it on the front page and left the form on his desk.

You turned for the door with a relieved sigh and accidently walked into König’s solid chest. He was standing in the open doorway, he was the size of the open doorway, wearing his combat gear although he was unarmed, his hood draped covering his face, even so, you could see he was looking down on you. It wasn’t until you glanced up that you realised he was ducking to fit in the doorway. That sent heat right to your cunt.

“Oh, hello.” You said stupidly, eyes hitting the carpeted floor.

“Hello.” He greeted you, accent gentle. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, right, I’m in your office.” You stumbled over your words. “Um, W-Williams needs sick leave approved, he needs gallbladder surgery off base, I need you to sign the form. I - I left it on your desk.”

König walked past you, he smelt of sweat and sand and some sort of hastily applied deodorant. He seemed unfazed that you were in his office, he certainly didn’t seem to be trying to avoid you as ardently as you were avoiding him. You cursed yourself for being so childish.

He removed his hood and draped it over the back of his chair as he picked up the form. His eyes were darkened with war paint, fresh stubble on his jaw.

“A smiling face.” He remarked as he read your post it note, voice muted. “The way yours used to be.”

You blinked. “Is that meant to be some kind of joke?” You asked hotly.

“Not at all.” He replied, not looking up from the form. “It used to brighten my days.” He signed the form and held it out to you before you could really process what he’d said. “Let us hope Williams makes a swift recovery, he is one of my best.”

You tentatively took the form, mind drawn back to the last encounter you’d had with the young private.

“He called me…” You bit back your sentence before you had a chance to finish it. But the damage was done.

König’s back straightened, his fists clenched. “Something inappropriate?”

“No.” Your shoulders hunched. Why did you even bring it up? “He said I was…they’re calling me…you know…the colonel’s girl.”

You glanced up at König shyly, to see if there was any truth in it. His back had relaxed, but his stance was still guarded.

“What?” You asked.

“I told the recruits to leave you alone.” He admitted. “Or there would be consequences.”

“Oh.” You blushed. “But, that’s not a bad thing, is it?”

“No, it’s not…some of the men have interpreted the order to mean I am keeping you for myself.”

You took a bold step forward.

“And are you?”

König looked at the floor. You sighed and turned for the door.

König’s large hand curled around the front of your throat before you could turn and drew you back, right to his mouth. You whimpered into the kiss. You were forced onto your tiptoes to meet him, feeling his fingers against your oesophagus with every exhale. His lips eased wetly and insistently against yours until you were dizzy, gripping his arms and pressing yourself closer.

As soon as it started, it was over. König released your throat and took a step back. You had to blink a few times to regain just a few of your senses. You were still on your tiptoes, and you could still taste him on your mouth. Gunpower, and mint.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was ragged, his accent even thicker than usual. Fuck, it was hot.

He turned and left before you could even articulate a response, but you were sure you saw his back muscles twitching as he went.

…

The deployment for the first active mission came about quicker than anyone had been expecting. It was practically a dummy mission, you’d been told, leading a team of recruits on a sweep near cartel lands for stray activity or potential landmines. Still, the atmosphere was palpable in the base, the recruits were scared, you could tell.

You watched from the doorway of your clinic as the men stood by the jeeps, ready to roll out. Riley had returned, and he stood next to König as the latter zipped up his kevlar and clipped on his helmet over his hood. You wanted to wish him luck, even though you knew everything was going to be fine. It was a routine sweep, and he was König, he wasn’t in any danger. Still, your stomach pulled. Fate was cruel. What if this was the last time you ever saw him?

You scrunched your eyes shut, called yourself an idiot, and jogged across the sand of the training field.

Riley saw you first, he knocked König on the chest to alert him - you tried not to read into that - König turned, face obscured, body heavy with kevlar and weaponry. He had to lower his head to look at you.

“Schatz?”

Your insides ached at the familiar term of endearment that you didn’t deserve. Your mouth was as dry as the sand you were stood on, and you suddenly didn’t know what to say. Don’t go? Come back? How could you say any of those things to the man who didn’t want you.

König solved your problem for you. His fingers closed around your tricep, and his thumb stroked just once.

“Look after yourself.” You said quietly.

He nodded before he dropped your arm. Then you watched as they got into the jeeps and drove away.

…

The recruits were returned to you on a daily basis. Apparently, the drop point of the sweep was particularly hot for cartel soldiers, ready and willing to engage in battle. The wounds you were treating now were not the cuts and scrapes of training, it was cracked skulls and broken bones and lacerated flesh. And the men, Turner, Williams, Jackson, they weren’t the scrappy, joking lads they’d once been, they were crying and they were scared.

You slept when you could but you were always exhausted. You were waiting for the first time one of them died on you.

You were awoken that night by a loud, insistent banging on your door. You jumped out of bed and tied your robe around yourself, already gathering your hair up to tie it back.

“What’s happened?” You called, opening the door, “who is it…oh.”

It took a moment for you to realise that you weren’t staring at the pitch black of night, but rather directly at König’s chest. He stood in a dark shirt, helmet removed, hood covering his face, head disappearing behind your doorway, but his blue eyes were bright and wild and looking down at you.

“König! You scared me half to death. Get in here.”

You stood aside and König ducked his head and walked, actually stomped, his way into your room. You prayed you didn’t have any stray underwear on the floor. His shirt sleeves were short and you could actually see his arm muscles thrumming.

“What’s happened?” You frowned. “What’s wrong, König? Talk to me, please.”

“There was an I.E.D.” He replied, accent thick. You couldn’t imagine what his expression looked like. “Ghost saw it before I did. He pulled me out of the pathway. The fucking thing exploded five feet in front of my face. I could have died. I am a fucking idiot.”

“Oh, König, you…you didn’t die, and you’re not an idiot, okay? Every soldier misses…”

“No, schatz.” He walked forward, backing you against the wall. You swallowed when his large hand came up, pressing your collarbone back against the wall. “I’m a fucking idiot because I could have died without doing this.”

One hand curled around your hip and lifted you effortlessly, and you gasped as you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist - it was a stretch, he was so broad. König wasted no time slamming you into the wall next to your bed with enough force to rattle your bones. You squeaked, but that was all you managed to do. He pushed his hood up to his nose and captured your lips with his.

Your eyes crossed and closed as you groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as your lips slid against his. This was nothing like the first kiss - that was chaste, hurried, this was luxurious, long, wet and slow, the whole world went quiet as König pressed his tongue between your lips and lapped at yours with sure strokes that had you whimpering. Your fingers tangled in his hood as he kissed you like that, and you forgot everything else.

He hitched your legs around his waist and you whined, muffled, as you felt a solid lump pressing up against your clothed crotch. You didn’t care – you ground down on him as you met his tongue with yours. He growled into your mouth and it reverberated through you, before he was pulling back, kissing along your jaw and grinding his cock against your heat harder than before.

Then his eyes were on you, piercing and bright through the dark hood, the fabric sat askew on his top lip, his lips pink and swollen with your spit.

“I want you, schatz.” He said bluntly.

“I - I want you, too.”

Your consent was all he needed. Suddenly you were airborne again, and you clung onto him as he lowered you onto the belt and knelt between your legs. The bed actually dipped under his weight and you blushed.

“K-König,” you murmured quietly.

“No,” it was short, and stiff, as he yanked your night shirt down by your collar hard enough to rip. You yelped as the sound of fabric tearing filled the room and suddenly your tits were exposed. You whimpered in embarrassment but he’d already grabbed them in his rough, gloved hands, squeezing and rubbing, flicking and pinching your nipples between his fingers.

“Hhhh, fuck.” You blushed, biting your lip as your underwear moistened at the rough treatment.

“Fuck, do not tell me they are sensitive.” König’s voice sounded wrecked.

“Please,” it was a whisper, “please be gentle.”

“Wanted to get my hands on you for too long.” Was all his reply was as he squeezed your breast again and leant down, using his hand to guide your nipple into his exposed mouth. He sucked so hard that you thought he was trying to drink your soul out from you. Your head fell back and you gasped, grinding your wet, needy cunt as best you could on the side of his thigh. König took pity on you, lapping at your nipples until they were shining nubs screaming in oversensitivity, while his brick hand - when had he taken his glove off? - cupped your pussy through your underwear. His thumb was jammed right up against your clit. You didn’t know if he’d meant to do that, or if it was coincidental, but either way you ground up onto the solid digit until your eyes were unfocused.

“So wet for me, liebling,” he murmured breathlessly, between your nipples, “you are fucking soaked for me.” He stroked you with his thumb once and your eyes slackened and you came with a shudder, stiffening beneath him as stars danced above your head.

He let your nipple slide wetly from his mouth and suddenly those bright eyes were on you.

“Did you just have an orgasm?”

“Mmm.” You buried your head into his neck shyly, thighs shuddering as the waves of pleasure rolled through you. Your clit twitched against his hand.

“Oh, sweet liebling.” He murmured, rubbing wet circles over the sodden fabric of your underwear. You shuddered as your thighs tried to close away from the intense pleasure, until one strong hand was on your thigh and pushing it wide.

“König!” You gasped. He was watching you intently as he pushed your underwear to the side with his fingers and pressed the thick digits through your sopping folds.

“Such a pretty little cunt.” He murmured, stroking his fingertips over your slit. It opened with every heavy breath you took, dribbles of desire wetting his fingers.

“König, please,” you whined, “need you in me. Please -”

“Oh yes? Is that so?” The side of his mouth twitched up, then his finger was sinking inside you.

“Shit, fuck! K-König, you’re so big…” You felt your cunt stretching around his finger, clenching involuntarily down around it as your thighs tried to close but couldn’t, pinned open by his solid hand.

“I know, schatz.” He replied calmly. “You can take it.” He slid a second finger in without warning and grunted at how tight and wet you were, just imagining how your cunt would feel around his cock. You whined and threw your head back, the stretch aching after months of nothing, thighs shaking. You were so fucking wet that his fingers practically glided in, his knuckles against your soft pink entrance. “I want you to come for me, to loosen you up for my cock.”

“König, fuck, I…” Your cheeks were rosy. “My god, please...please move, I need-”

“Shhh, little one, I know.” He wasted no time shoving his fingers deeper in your aching cunt, and you yelped and lifted off of the bed entirely. König growled in disapproval and used the hand on your thigh to pin you down to the bed, keeping you still as he ploughed his fingers in and out of you. You moaned deliriously at the sudden intense, rough pressure to your sweet spot, watching the way König’s large hand was like a blur between your legs.

“I’m-” You couldn’t even say it before you were coming with a wet moan, your release splashing against his wrist and dripping all over the bed.

“Scheiße, liebling, making such a mess for me.” His fingers were still hard and circling your engorged sweet spot. Your body seized in panic as you gripped his wrist with all your might to try and still him. All you achieved was watching your own arms shake as he fingered you mercilessly. The noise was obscene, soaking wet come and slick filthy between your legs and soaking his hand as you squirted again, streaming down his arm with a mix of clear and white desire. You moaned and gasped and sobbed, the pleasure intense and spiralling, your pussy already felt worn out from the rough treatment.

“König, please,” you begged, “it’s too much-”

“Again.” He commanded, hand leaving your thigh and curling around your throat. “Want all of that squirt out of you.” he pinned you to the bed by your neck, using the change in position to drive his fingers roughly home deep in your aching, spent cunt. He didn’t stop when you came, and he didn’t stop when you came again - your eyes in the back of your head, body on fire with ceaseless pleasure, the bed beneath you soaked with your own humiliation. All you could do was take it, and shudder violently.

Finally, König pulled his fingers from your gaping hole and slapped your cheek lightly, it was a wet noise and you blinked.

“Come on, little girl, do not give up on me.”

“König,” you slurred, heaving. “I…fuck, so good, never…I can’t…”

“Oh sweet one,” he cooed, crowding between your legs, pulling your thighs over his hips. “Fucked you stupid and I haven’t even put my cock in you yet.”

You managed a tired smile as you traced your fingers down the front of his stab vest. You watched him drag the zip of his trousers down, rubbing just the once over the lump there before dipping in and pulling his cock free. It took him three tries - to extract the full, erect length of himself from the tight compression of his protective cup, before he was letting it hang heavy between his legs.

“Fuck, König- you’re so big.”

“I know, baby,” he stroked the length of his long, engorged cock from length to tip and your eyes widened, cunt throbbing between your legs in your desperation to feel it deep in you.

“König, please,” you begged, digging your heels into the small of his back, your wet cunt pressed up against his balls, inviting, begging him in, “my pussy - please -”

He chuckled before pressing the head of his foreboding cock against your clit and you trembled and cursed. He lent over you, hand squeezing your breast, the ends of his dark hood tickling your neck as you felt the hot, solid crown of his cock pressing against your entrance. Your eyes were wide, nervous, feeling the pressure, the give, then the hot length sliding home inside of you.

You gasped and arched, clenching around him and his biceps shook where he held you.

“Fuck, schatz, fuck, not so hard, you will make me come.”

“C-can’t help it.” It was a whine, rolling your hips and digging your heels in harder, trying to pull him deeper. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He panted, regaining some of his composure and locking his hand around your neck once more. His hips began to piston and you weren’t prepared for it, the shift of his massive cock in your tight walls making you moan and clench and writhe. Your cunt was obscenely wet, and every noise was a squelch that made you blush, until he was pounding into your sweet spot and you forgot everything.

“Fuck, König, fuck-” it was breathless, eyelids fluttering as you clenched and groaned and sprayed his cock, his balls, with your release. “I can’t - can’t stop, fuck,”

“Guh, fuck.” He grunted, lips ghosting over yours. His cock not slowing, pounding you like he was trying to nail the mattress beneath you. “So tight, liebling, your pussy is drawing me in. I’ve waited so long for this.”

You couldn’t ask him to explain, you were too busy coming, your world zeroed down to the tip of König’s dick abusing your swollen sweet spot. He curled his fingers under your knee and held your thigh up by your collarbone, exposing more of your vulnerable cunt to him as he thrust hard into your aching walls.

Your moans were broken and never ending, blushing and squirming in delirious agony as you gushed and creamed on his cock, feeling your hot release on the backs of your thighs.

“Look at you,” König didn’t even have the decency to sound exerted as he took you apart. “You can’t stop coming, can you, schatz?”

“No.” There were tears in your eyes, your fingernails digging into his arms, holding on for dear life. “You need, please -” Your mouth fell open as you came again, the splash of your squirt explosive and filthy, “you need to come, please, I can’t, can’t come again, please, König, please.”

König framed your jaw with his hand, stroking along the bone as he slammed his hips into yours, forcing more of your come straight from you with a grunt.

“Nearly there, schatz.” He said into your mouth. “Just a little bit longer.”

“Fuck, please,” your walls clenched and contracted again, vaulted over the edge and nearly losing consciousness, clenching your fucked out cunt tight if only to help him get there. “Please, come, come in me, fuck.”

“Scheiße,” he groaned, cock jamming in your tight cunt as you came so hard you nearly pushed him out. He shoved his way back in and you wailed. “You want me to come inside? I’m not wearing…”

“König, please,” it was pathetic, and he couldn’t deny you, watching your sobbing eyes with his piercing blues as he slammed into your weeping cunt for a few more torturous minutes, then his forehead was pressed to yours and he groaned as he spilled inside you. He was so deep you couldn’t feel it, but you could feel his cock twitching, and you could feel yourself clenching and coming so hard you forced dribbles of his white come straight back out of your slit and dribbling down between your cheeks.

König was breathing heavily against you as he held himself, forehead against yours, body framing yours, and you watched him as you shuddered and tried in vain to relax. He was…there were no words for it.

You let your hands trail down his clothed back, feeling the solid and bunching muscles there, feeling his cock heavy in your squirting pussy and wondering how the hell this had happened.

“König,” you had a warm, dizzying smile on your face. “You came back.”

He nodded mutedly, face partially obscured by his hood, as he stroked along your jaw, then your lips, and let his hulking body fall and rest beside yours. “Thought you might not want me.”

You shook your head, curling into his chest the best you could. He was still inside you.

“Want you, always. Don’t-'' He'd already curled his bear arms around you, drawing you into his warm chest and cutting you off. You were suddenly so overhot you couldn’t remember what you were going to say.

“I’m sorry I upset you, liebling,” he stroked along your back, his blue eyes slack. “I have always wanted you to be mine. From the moment I saw you.”

This felt like a fever dream. It couldn’t possibly be real. You couldn’t possibly be this happy.

“I’ve always been yours, König, I still am. If you still want me.”

He tilted his head as he watched you, lips pulling up, and you blushed.

“What?” You asked.

“You,” he said simply, voice warm like honey, “are smiling again.”

9K notes · View notes