#The Last Battlefield Between You and I

[sgtgarricks]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ your gentle hands are enough

simon riley x afab!reader cw: nsfw, angst kinda?, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, praise kink, creampie!!, reader referred as 'pet' like twice, smut with sadness, hurt/kinda comfort, mention of johnny's death, simon is scared of commitment :(, we still love him.

reblogs are immensely appreciated! <3

NEXT PART (HEA): i want your hands on me for all my life

notes: my first ever fic that i'm posting on this site !! feedback is appreciated ♡ dedicated to @rowarn for being lovely and entertaining my rambles!

You and Simon weren't exactly dating.

He visits you almost every night whenever he's in the city and he's always gone before you're out of bed. But you relish on the rare occasions that you're awake before him — the moments you get to brush your hand through the raised scars littered all across his face, the moments you get to tangle your fingers in his hair to hear his little grunts.

Simon Riley has rough hands, scarred and calloused from years in the battlefield. Yet when those hands are caressing your body softly, you know he's being unnecessarily gentle to not let you feel the roughness in his hands — as if he was trying to prevent all the hurt and pain he's inflicted with his fists from bleeding into you.

You pretend to have only just woken up, eyes blinking slowly trying to adjust to the sunlight filtering in through the blinds.

"Morning, Si."

"G'morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?" He places a warm palm on your hip, not fulling resting the weight of it.

"I always do when you're here." You raised your hand to his chest and feel his heart thumping steadily below you. His body always runs hot no matter the weather and it makes you nuzzle into him more during the bleak winter.

Silence engulfs the two of you, lulling you into a vulnerable state of bliss as you recall the events of last night.

You had barely opened the door for him last night before his hands were all over you, lips crashing onto yours as he kissed you with desperation. Strong hands working swiftly to remove your clothes gently as he pushed you towards the bedroom.

Simon was always gentle with you, but you've been with him long enough to know the difference between him missing you and him scared at the thought of missing you.

Instead of gently laying you down on the plush mattress, he pushed you with a little bit of force than usual.

"Simon!" You yelp. You must've been too distracted by him to fully notice that he was now fully naked below you.

He had a glint in his eye that let you know you were not going to be able to rest until he coaxed multiple orgasms from you.

His hand was constantly on your body, not wanting to go for a second without feeling your skin under his. Greedy kisses were peppered all across your collarbone that were now marked with the imprint of his teeth.

You knew Simon was trying to memorize every inch of your body, leave his marks on you because he was going to go back on deployment soon.

This realization is what snaps you out of your peaceful reverie. That your Simon is going to leave you soon.

The mere thought of having to see him leave your apartment in a few hours and not getting to see him for another week? Months?

It leaves a sour taste in your mouth that made you frown and turn your head away.

Simon, ever so vigilant, notices your downturned lips. He cups your chin and swivels it to face him. He nudges his nose with yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

You hate that he was playing dumb. Hates that he thinks you don't know his antics by now. Hates that he thinks you don't know him by now.

"You know why, Si." Pushing your hands on the plush bed, you rest your back on the headboard. You stare at Simon disapprovingly, upset that he's trying to pretend everything is fine.

He sighs heavily and run his hand through his hair, messing it up more than it already was.

"How do you know?" He finally lets out, still laying down on his side staring up at you.

You scoff at him. Maybe because you've seen him through his highs-and-lows. You've seen his little smirk at your antics. Listened to his stories intently as he fondly recalls memories with his squad mates.

But you've also seen him coming to you bloody, battered, bruised, and shaking as you stitched his back. You've seen him scare himself awake at night, dreaming about the last time he saw Johnny.

He chuckles when you stare at him pointedly and finally sits up. He waits for you to stop sulking for a few minutes, before sighing once more.

The bed creaks with his weight as he tries to stand up from it, turning towards the window. You know what's coming next and you are fully aware there's nothing you can do to stop him from going on deployment.

What you can do, is at least try to make him stay a little bit longer.

You crawl forward from your position, throwing both your arms around his wide torso — at least try to, he's way too wide for you to fully engulf him in your arms.

"Don't go."

Your lips are pressed against his back as you softly plead with him to not go. Simon takes both your arms in his hands and angles his upper body towards you. Slowly, you move up from your sprawled-out position and kneel in front of him.

"Please." You slowly pull away your arms from his grip. He reluctantly lets you go before you slowly wrap them behind his neck. You inch closer to him, slowly leaning down and kissing his neck.

Simon moans languidly, still groggy.

"You play dirty, love." He cups your behind, angling his neck upwards to give you more access.

"You love it."

"Being cheeky, are you?" You grin against his neck, biting down softly. Arching your neck subtly as Simon tugged on your hair.

These were truly the moments you truly enjoy the most. Not that you don't enjoy sleeping with him, you definitely do. But being able to love him freely in the daylight made it much more intimate.

You suspect it's why Simon always tried his best to leave before the sun came up.

You know Simon loves you, albeit in his own unique way. He's never been nothing but kind and gentle to you, always making sure you feel safe and taken care of with him. From locking your door with the spare key he has after he leaves, to making sure to take care of you after having sex — always gets up to clean any messes he had left on your body with gentle wipes and ending it with a soft kiss to your forehead.

Despite your numerous attempts to get him to open up about his past, he doesn't bite often. Though, you know some part of him wants nothing more than to tell you every single thing about himself when he speaks little snippets of his past.

He doesn't tell you anything overly upsetting, always keeping it minimal and with as little details of violence as possible.

Perhaps, his idea of a small mercy.

Maybe he thinks he's doing you a favor, giving you little bits of himself hoping you eventually realize how damaged he is. He doesn't understand how those flickers of vulnerability makes you hungrier for more of him. You wanted him, thorns and all.

Simon lets himself get roped back into your arms, all his muscles relaxed, no trace any tautness or rigidness lingering. He feels safe in your arms.

"How long Simon?" You finally ask, preparing for the worst.

Simon was mostly gone for around a month.

But on the rare times you couldn't see him for more than half a year, it was like hell. It hurt so deeply knowing even if he had been killed off somewhere, you might not even know. The only traces left of him would only be the few shirts he's let you take and the Simon-shaped hole he would have left in your heart.

It scared you that you could never be able to smell his earthy musk lingering in your sheets again, that it would fade one day and you wouldn't remember what it smelled like anymore.

"I dunno. More or less three months?"

You hated when he was vague. He was often trying to spare your feelings.

"So... more."

He nods with his face still hiding in your neck. You can feel him press his nose harder and inhale deeply.

Deep down, you feel crushed. You always do when he has to leave. You want to tell him how much you love him again, how much you need him, and you wanted him to say it back so badly.

You thought you had gotten so far with him, slowly breaking down his walls after getting him to start staying over instead of leaving. Something changed after he lost Johnny — he was more touchy, more clingy, but he never let you get any closer anymore. You could physically feel him wince if you told him you loved him during one of your vulnerable moments.

The first time you told him you loved him, he looked at you with a somber look. He didn't say anything, but he pulled you close and gave you a bone-crushing hug.

I'm sorry.

He gave different reactions every time. Some days he'd simply sigh and drag his fingers through your hair lovingly. On worse days, he'd shake his head and do nothing else.

It was like an impenetrable wall had suddenly appeared when it wasn't there before.

You take a deep breath. Simon has been nothing but gentle with fragile you. He's been trying his best to not taint the heart that you've freely ripped out of your chest for him.

Maybe this time, you can do something for him and let him go back without the weight of your love on his shoulder.

"Better make the most of it then, eh?" You pull back from him and hear a grunt of protest. You start pushing him until his back hit the headboard gently. Kissing your way down to his groin, you tug at his boxers impatiently.

"Sweetheart you don't have to-"

"I want to." You cut him off.

"Fuck. You're gonna be the death o' me, love." He lifts his hips and lets you drag his boxers down, revealing his semi-hardness.

God, his cock is so beautiful. It's so thick you could barely wrap both your hands around it even when he's not fully hard.

"I'll make sure to send you off gently with a kiss, Simon." Your mouth slowly engulfs the tip of his cock, licking all around it. Simon lets out a groan as he grabs your head gently.

"Oh, fuck. That's it, sweetheart. So sweet, being so good f' me." He encourages sweetly and it's enough to get you preening and moving your head excitedly down his length.

Just as you know his habits, Simon also knows what makes you tick. Getting praised by him almost always makes you putty in his hands and he makes sure to take advantage of this information to its full potential. He loves to praise you even for the smallest of things, such as cooking for him when he gets back.

Telling you how lovely you are and how he's thankful for you taking the time to cook for grumpy, old, Simon.

You continue taking more of his length in your mouth, gaggling slightly from the sheer size of him. You can taste the salty precum on your tongue and your eyes roll back from pleasure, taking him in more enthusiastically.

"Slow down, love. Don't want- ugh.. you t' hurt yourself." Simon tries to pull your head back to give you space, but you're not happy about it. You glare up at him best as you can before taking him down to the hilt.

Nose pressed deep, you can smell the slight tang of his musk, making you slightly delirious. You moan, sending vibrations up throughout his body.

Simon trembles with pleasure, groaning.

"Yeah, you like that sweetheart? Love choking on my cock? Hmm?"

At his words, you slowly take your mouth off of him, replacing it with your hands. Slick from your spit and his precum, your hand glides along his shaft easily as he bucks into your hand.

"Mhm.." You put your mouth on him once more, only pulling away to rub it all over your face. "Love it so much, Si. Love having your cock in my mouth. Can't live without it."

Simon admires you, cockdrunk on his leaking shaft. Even with his mess all over your face as you slobber on him, he thinks you look absolutely gorgeous.

Looking up at him, it's like you can see hearts in his eyes. You've been wet since the moment you woke up to him next to you, but him looking at you like you're the only person he wants to see on him makes you feel on top of the world.

Unable to take it anymore, you whine pathetically and start humping the bed.

Simon sees you writhing on the bed below him and chuckles as you continue kissing all over his cock.

"Look at you.. so needy, sweetheart. You don't need to hump the bed like a dog in heat. I'm right here, love." With that, he gently pulls you off his cock. You groan dismay, body going slightly limp from desperation.

"Need you so bad, Si." You beg him, tears starting to form in your eyes. You think you're going to crazy if he doesn't fuck you soon. He's about to leave soon for months and you're desperate for him to leave his mark on you.

Simon gently tuts and caresses your cheek. He's in awe of how he's got such a lovely, needy, pet wrapped around his finger. He hasn't had someone this devoted to him in a very long time — someone who's always excited to see him come home, someone who's never asked for him for more than what he can give.

Maybe it makes him a narcissist that he's happy of the fact that you're so desperately in love with him, you'd rather have parts of him than not at all.

But during early mornings where he'd find you sniffling into your pillow, he feels pain in his chest where his heart resides. He knows you cry over him.

He mourns the love that you two could have, but he'd rather mourn over the fantasy he's created in his head — the fantasy where he wasn't fucked up and is able to receive the kind of love you freely give, than have you be heartbroken when Simon inevitably doesn't come home one day.

"I got you, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good." He rumbles against your lips. In a split second, he'd managed to lay you out on the bed and now hovered above you.

He takes a moment to stare at your face. Wide-eyed, sweating, and panting heavily. He peppers kisses all over your face.

His little pet all worked up over sucking his cock.

He's staring at you for a few seconds, making you writhe around, but you never break his stare. It was as if the both of you were trying to commit each other's faces to memory right in this moment, not knowing when you were going to be able to see each other again.

You bring your hand up to his face, slightly wiping the sweat away from his eyes.

His eyes.

The moment he looked at you, you know you were done for. Those eyes never fail to send shivers through your whole body, as if your entire being was standing to attention when his eyes were on you.

"You're so pretty, Simon."

That seemed to break him out of his trance. He grunts slightly as if disagreeing with your statement. You sigh, knowing he's never going to see himself the way you see him.

That's okay. You'll spend as much time as he'll give you to convince him.

Simon kisses and caresses down your body as you moan from the feel of it. Teasing you with his lips and leaving small marks all over. When he gets to your thighs, he slowly raises both of them as he lightly rubs his scruffy chin on it.

"Lift those pretty legs f' me, hm?"

When you don't respond, he gently bites to get your attention and you huff. You grasp your bedsheets so tight your knuckles were going white when you feel his hot breath on you.

"Such a pretty pussy. Just for me, yeah?" He kisses your folds gently, the sensation of his scruff causing a prickly sensation, making you wail in pleasure.

"S-Simon!" You were so needy and sensitive — Simon loved that about you.

"So sensitive." He murmurs against your weeping pussy. He runs his finger across your folds, gathering the wetness. You look down at him as he tastes your wetness on his finger.

"Fuck, Simon."

"Mm, my favorite taste."

After a few moments of simply kissing all around your folds and your clit, Simon decides to stop teasing you. He presses his face in your folds and licks a stripe across it.

He repeats this action multiple times, sucking on your little bud in between. He rolls his finger around your clit as his mouth makes suckling noises. The sensation of his tongue and finger on you make you gasp loudly — your eyes rolling back.

You arch your back and don't stop chanting Simon's name like a prayer. Like he was going to disappear if you stopped calling his name.

"That's it. Let me hear what you want, pretty." He brings two of his fingers back inside your walls, lightly caressing them. He's teasing you, waiting for you to beg him to put his fingers inside of you. You break instantly, begging for him to use his thick fingers to please you.

"Please, Simon. Please, please, please. Need your fingers in me."

How could Simon deny you when you beg so sweetly?

Humming against you, he slowly sinks his fingers inside your aching walls. You sigh in contentment, unconsciously clenching on his fingers.

"Relax love, you're choking my fingers." You relax a bit at his words, trying to get your breathing back to normal. The death grip you

It seems that Simon had other ideas, because as soon as you loosened, his fingers started picking up. You start wailing again at his sudden shift in pace, grabbing his hand that was gripping your thigh.

His hand lets go of your thigh and entwines it with yours.

"Doing so good for me. You can take it, sweetheart. Be good and cum on my fingers, yeah?" At this point the both of you were panting heavily, his heavy cock still leaking precum onto the bedsheets. You didn't realize it before, but you're just now realizing how the bed is creaking from his hips.

Simon pants heavily, the room getting warmer by the second. His heavy groans makes your pussy throb around his fingers as you feel a pressure building in your lower belly.

"Si- please. So close."

Knowing you're close sends him over the edge, his tongue works faster and sloppier in tandem with his fingers. Simon moans and and your back starts to arch higher than before.

You're now making a mess on the bedsheets, wet noises can be heard loudly as it echoes throughout the entire room. You feel hot, sweaty, and suddenly everything's too much.

The lights are too bright, the noises too loud, and you feel so sensitive it burns.

"Simon, I-" You whine, legs starting to thrash as Simon pulled his fingers away to hold your legs. You feel your nerves lighting awake as you feel every single sensation as he sinks his tongue inside.

"Love you Si, love you so much. I'm—" Your body seizes and freezes for a moment and a little flick of his tongue against your bud makes you lose it. Your orgasm washes through you like a crashing wave, causing you to tremble in his hold and let out gasps as you struggle to breath normally and let your legs fall.

Simon lets you catch your breath as he lifts himself up, still hard. You rest your eyes on him and you see him lick his lips — his entire mouth and chin shiny with your slick.

He hovers above you once more, leaning down to give you a kiss. You reach up enthusiastically, pulling him down by his neck. He grunts at the sudden force as you slant your lips against his. It's messy, his lips slick with spit and yours with a small trace of drool. The kiss is desperate, teeth knocking into each other more than once.

It goes on for a while before Simon starts to pull back. Before he's successful, you wrap both your legs around his waist and Simon gasps at the sensation of his cock pressed against your slick.

"Need you inside, Simon. Want you in me." Murmuring against his lips, your hand desperately wanders down his sweaty body and grips his cock.

He lets out a grunt at the sudden warmth enveloping him and is unable to control as his hips involuntarily thrust forward.

"Yeah? You want my cock? Take it, sweetheart. It's all yours." He watches in a daze as you slowly align him with you. The moment he feels his tip rub on your slippery folds, he lets out a whimper.

"Please Si.." You whisper to him. "Wanna feel you inside me so bad." Simon coos at you, seeing you beg him to fuck you never fails to make his brain circuit for a few seconds.

He teases you a few seconds longer, just to hear you beg more for him. He begins to feel bad when you start humping the air in hopes of getting his head inside you.

You're babbling incoherently now, eyes closed, hands wandering all over Simon's body. He gives you mercy and starts to push inside your throbbing hole. It takes a bit of time, but when his head manages to push through, he's already able to feel your walls pulsate around him.

"Oh, sweetheart. So needy f' me." He's also barely coherent, his eyes focused on his cock deeper inside your tight hole. "What are you gonna do when I'm gone, hm? Who's gonna fuck you this good?" Simon barely realizes what he's saying until he's spoken them. The thought of someone else fucking you when he's gone lights a fire inside him.

"Oh, fuck." His cock is fully in you now and you can feel every vein pulsating inside of you. Your hands are gripping Simon harder, possibly leaving red marks all over his body — you relish in the thought of Simon looking in the mirror and seeing the marks you left on him. "No one, Si. No one's gonna fuck me as good as you. Don' want you to go. Want you here with me." Your mouth hangs open uselessly, overwhelmed with the pressure of Simon in you.

Hearing you admit so openly you weren't going to fuck anyone else drives Simon even crazier. You realize now how much of an impact your words have on Simon when he starts pounding your poor pussy that was still sensitive.

"Yeah? That's right, sweetheart. No one can fuck you like I can." It takes him a few seconds to get his words out, huffing above you. You can barely hear what he's saying, ears ringing from the blinding white, hot pleasure coursing through your entire body. Your hands try gripping him as long as you can but his thrusts are causing your body to jostle relentlessly, and now your arms flail helplessly before holding onto the headboard.

Simon is no longer on his forearm, his head resting in the crook of your neck as his hands grip your waist. You're sure his hands are going to leave prints in the morning from how hard he's gripping you.

You don't mind at all.

Your brain feels foggy, only speaking Simon's name over and over again. Simon's no better than you, grunting and groaning at every thrust that leads him deeper into your hole.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He moans. "So good for me, so sweet for me." Your legs no longer have the energy to stay corded behind his back, limping helplessly beside you as Simon fucks you.

You feel another orgasm creeping up on you as your walls begin to clench around Simon's cock. Simon hisses at the feeling, leaning up to look at your cream gathering at the base of him. He looks up to the ceiling, gasping in pleasure.

"Si, I'm so close, I-" He brings his head down to give you a chaste kiss before pulling away, nose touching yours and staring into your eyes.

"Let go f' me, sweetheart. Gonna cum on my cock and be good?" He coaxes you, one of his hands going to your face. You don't even realize you're crying until Simon wipes your tears away.

You can't take it anymore, the loving look in his eyes and feeling him inside you breaks you.

"Love you so much, Si. I love you so fucking much." You cry out to him as you're finally sent over the edge. You wail loudly, back arching as Simon continues to thrust at a slower pace, going deeper than before.

"God, fuck. I love you, I love you. Fuck." He continues to mumble against your neck. Your jaw goes slack and another orgasm seizes your body as you clench and gush all over him.

His thighs are drenched from your slick and when he feels your walls pulsing repeatedly over him, he feels shivers all over his body and he cums.

The blinding pleasure takes him off guard, thighs shaking from the sheer force. He continues thrusting shallowly, dragging out his orgasm as his cum fills up your hole to the brim.

He gasps and bites down on your neck, not stopping until he's fully come down from his high.

You're shell shocked, one hand over your eyes as you thinking about what just transpired. This was nothing like before. He'd never said 'I love you', ever. You take a moment to regain your thoughts, heart thumping wildly.

By this point, your hopes had soared like never before, the small part of you that still believes you can have something with Simon begins crawling out of you — coming back alive.

"Si-" You start as you catch your breath and lift your head slightly to look at him.

"Sorry." He mumbles lifting himself from your body, plopping himself on the pillow beside you.

There's nothing but silence for a few minutes. A part of you wants nothing more than to confront him, get him to face his feelings. But you know Simon and that if you did that, he'd panic.

So, you wait. And wait. And wait.

Until he coughs.

"I have to go. Supposed to meet the boys in an hour." He grumbles, fumbling around to get himself off the bed and find his clothes.

Your heart breaks. Was he really going to go away for a few months without talking about what just happened? You had to make a choice. Either speak now or forever hold your peace.

"Simon." You speak with such a finality in your tone that it renders Simon frozen. He pauses putting his pants back on and stares up at you, terrified.

"I love you." You say, loud and clear. You've told him you loved him in the throes of passion and in the sleepy haze of early mornings, but never when both of you were wide awake. Like a secret that's only meant to be whispered so as to not let it get snuffed out.

You see his eyes widen for a fraction of a second. He seems to debate what he wants to say. You badly wish for him to just say something, anything at all.

He doesn't.

Simon continues to put on his pants and slip his shirt over his head. Once he finally gains the courage to look at you once more, he had to clear his throat. The forlorn look on your face would haunt him until the day he dies.

He knows you love him so deeply and honestly, that there was no questioning your devotion to him. He knows that you feel for him so deeply, you'd rather hurt yourself over and over than let him go.

But he's also once harbored care and affection to someone, fighting side-by-side with someone he thought was going to never stop speaking gibberish in his ear.

If Simon almost couldn't survive losing Johnny, there was no way you were going to survive losing him.

With his heart in his throat, Simon stares at you, fighting back tears that threaten to escape. God, he wants to kiss you. He wants to kiss you and tell you he loves you more than anything in this world. That he'd fight through any battlefield with broken limbs just to come home to you. But he knows he can't give you that promise. That promise that he's going to die of old age with you.

He expects you to cry or scream, but nothing in the world would be able to heal the way Simon's heart breaks when you only give him a sad smile.

"That's okay. I know you're not selfish enough to love me back."

He knows he should just leave, but he can't help himself from hurting you once more. Simon steps forward, cradles your head in his hands and lay a kiss atop your head.

And then, he leaves.

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod x reader #simon riley angst #simon ghost riley angst #cod ghost x reader #sgtales

[empresskylo]

könig x afab!reader

⊹ konig is as feral in bed as he is on the battlefield... based on this nsfw fanart

[ warnings ] pure smut. wc 582

cod masterlist

“let me fill you one more time—“ könig groaned desperately in your ear, both of you covered in sweat. “one more, mein schatz.”

könig’s entire frame crushed you, your sweating thighs plastered to his waist as he thrusted into you. his hot hands held you close to him like he couldn’t get enough, your own arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him further against your chest.

“one—ugh—more—gah—load,” he grumbled like a depraved man. his mind was completely melted, rambling without even knowing what he was saying. all he knew was that he wanted to feel you clench around him one more time. 

except one more time would never be enough. könig was insatiable. this was already round 3 of the night in under an hour. you were too overstimulated to even reply to him. all you could do was let him use your body at his desire and whine when things got too much.

“oh—fuckkkkk,” he growled when he felt your walls spasm.

“ahh,” you moaned, trying to tilt your hips so he stopped rutting against your clit, but he was too heavy for you to move beneath him. you could feel another orgasm brewing and you squeezed your eyes shut, your brain fogged. “k-könig,” you cried, not knowing if you could keep going like this.

könig’s erratic hips never faulted, “shh,” he cooed unsteadily. “you can take it.” 

you shook your head back and forth and mewled in your throat. könig tried to reassure you, “m’almost finished, liebling.” but you knew that was a lie. könig was never finished. he always wanted more.

as wild and deadly as he was in battle, he was just as primal in the bedroom. the softness of your skin felt heavenly against könig’s sore body and against his calloused hands. he slid a hand into your hair, his fist grasping tightly. “this is the last time. i promise.” his deep baritone sent you over the edge. you cried out loud, your legs squeezing against könig’s body, your body shaking as könig pummeled you through another orgasm. 

you could barely hear the way he was grunting and moaning as you clenched down impossibly hard around him. “gah, fuck,” he groaned. könig spilled inside you again, your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt him fill you once more that night. you weren’t even sure how he still had more to give at this point.

his thrusts turned slow but remained powerful when he bottomed out, hitting you as far back as he could. you gasped with every rut of his hips hitting yours. 

his seed leaked out around his cock as he rode out his orgasm. you weren’t sure you could go for another round, hoping könig was true to his word and this actually was the last time.

when he steadied himself, he kept his cock seated inside you, clutching you close against him while he caught his breath. 

his hand aimlessly stroked your hair. he pulled back to look at you, smiling at the sight of your flushed face and disheveled hair. “see. knew you could take it.” he kissed the tip of your nose, regretfully pulling out of you. you whined at the loss—you had got so used to the feeling of him inside you, it was almost painful for him to leave. he marveled at you as he sat back on his haunches, looking between your legs and watching his seed gush out of you. 

#cod #mw2 #konig #konig mw2 #konig x reader #konig x afab!reader #konig cod #konig smut #konig x you #konig call of duty #konig modern warfare #call of duty fic #call of duty smut #smut

[dcxdpdabbles]

The Undead Florist

Anon said: Basically, I just wanted Danny to deliver flowers to the Justice League heroes from his fans. If you can include Everlasting Trio. U can add whatever crack you think would be best! Thank you!

Clark is in the middle of blocking a heat ray attack from a robot that copies the powers of any Justice League member when the unexpected happens. A kid, no older than fourteen, boldly walks into the battlefield carrying a lavish bouquet of red roses and trigger lilies.

He's dressed in a worker uniform: light brown khakis, a black shirt with a light-born vest, and a black baseball hat resting neatly on his head. There is a company logo on the upper right of his vest but Clark does not recognize the stylized D.

There was a still moment when Clark's super speed could see the exact second Amazo spotted the child. The boy wasn't paying attention, staring at his phone screen, which had the faint details of a map, and had two headphones in his ear.

Clark's eyes widen in horror, and he opens his mouth to try to shout a warning—though he doubts the kid could hear him over the loud music playing in his ear—but before he can, Amazo flung out an arm straight at the kid's head, still pinning Clark down with a cheap version of his own laser ray eyes.

No! No, please, he's so young! He pleads mentally, frozen in horror as the robot's hand goes right through the kid's head. It took a solid minute for Clark to realize that Amazo's hand hadn't ripped through the skull of the child but rather had passed through him as if the boy was not physically there.

From underneath a black baseball cap, brim, electric blue eyes stare at Amazo. Gesturing vaguely to the arm going through his head, the boy frowns. "Rude much?"

"Access: Black Canary," Amazo says in response, his jaw opening wider as a super-powered scream is released, pointing black at the kid's face.

The frown on the worker deepens as the boy reaches up and- slaps the android in the face? "Dude, I'm trying to work. I have like eight flower deliveries today. Also, that was a weak imitation. This is a real Ghostly Wail."

He opens his jaw, letting out a sound that wasn't as loud as Black Canary or Amazo but somehow worse.

And the sound—the unholy screech that releases from the child sends Clark to his knees, quivering in his boots as Amazo disintegrates right before his eyes. The only thing left of the android is a smothering pair of robotic legs that fall over with a loud thump.

The boy huffs, paying no mind to the fact that he took out the enemy the league had spent the last six hours fighting before Clark tried to lure it away from the city. He merely glances back at his phone, following the little moving icon on the map until he stands before the fallen hero.

"Hi! Are you Superman?" The kid asks in a polite, chipper tone. It's such a whiplash change between his normal voice and his customer service voice that it sets in. This is really just a Tuesday for him.

Clark opens and closes his mouth with a weak "Yes" and is pushed out.

The kid's smile grows as he pushes the flowers into his arms. Clark nearly drops the vase, scrambling to get a good hold of them as the kid pulls out a harmonica and plays a little jingle. It sounds like a mix between Happy Birthday and Ring Around the Roses.

Once he is done, the boy holds out his arms wide open and loudly proclaims, in a very obvious Transatlantic accent, which makes him sound... rather otherwordly: "These flowers are sent by your fan Kattie Longsmith in Metropolis, wishing to thank you for rescuing her mother and brother from a fire. She wants to remind you that she is your biggest fan and hopes you have a lovely day. Thank you for selecting the Undead Florist as your means of flora travel!"

With a theatric bow, the boy blinks out of existence.

Clark is left kneeling alone in a destroyed cornfield, beating black and blue, while holding a vase of lavished roses and lilies. He is unsure how long he will stay there, trying to process what he just saw as the Batplane flies onto the scene, Bruce jumping out of it with a cry of his name.

Batman growls upon taking in the scene before his friend rushes to his side. "What happened?"

"I ugh...I got a flower delivery." He manages to utter, eyes still trained on the spot of the strange kid.

"What?"

"Trust me, I'm as confused."

It turns out that Clark's delivery is not an isolated incident. Over the past three months, various Justice League members have reported similar interactions with the Undead Florist.

Flash got a bouquet while trying to stop Captain Cold. The kid had wandered in the middle of a fight, unfreezing the speedster to hand over yellow lilies and sunflowers from a little boy named Teddy Smith in Central City. He had melted the freeze ray that was shot at him while Barry was in the middle of a panic, thinking he would watch a child die.

One little jingle and message was delivered in a Transatlantic accent later, and the boy was gone without a trace again. Bruce had gone to the scene, trying to find anything that could give him some clue, but he disputed the clear picture of his face and the recording of his voice. Nothing about the boy came up in their systems.

Wonder Woman was next, receiving two large bouquets of roses from a fellow woman she had rescued named Trix Cooperman. Her jingle was slightly smoother jazz , and the message leaned towards romantic than gratitude from a fan, but the boy had delivered it nonetheless.

He also took out Cheetah with a well-placed punch, highly impressing Diana. He had the makings of a warrior.

Then Green Arrow, Green Lantern, Martian Man Hunter, Batman, Martian Man Hunter, Hawkgirl, Aquaman, Zatanna, and surprisingly Vigilante each got their own flower grams.

None of them were able to get any information about the child, seeing as he only appeared when the members were in the middle of a fight, which was driving Bruce mad.

Of course, they had tracked down all the clients but met a dead end when each claimed they had never placed an order with Undead Florist. Even when Diana was holding her rope, the people gave the same answer.

They had no idea why Undead Florist was delivering flowers in their name or where the message that came along with the flowers appeared from. The chilling part was that the messages did actively represent their emotions and feelings towards the heroes, but how the overpowered child knew that was left unanswered.

The other thing that bothered Bruce was that the Undead Florist only appeared when they were in battle.

"Maybe it's because he doesn't know how to find you otherwise," Nightwing suggested at the Justice League-wide meeting.

"He uses a GPS that is locked into the heroes." Batman grunts, not dismissing the suggestion but challenging it, which causes his eldest son to shrug.

"Undead could be following online tips or something. It's not like the Leauge is seen just strolling around the cities, but people tweak when they do happen to see us."

"We could test that. Have a group of heroes just relaxing at a cafe or something. See where he appears and if there is a pattern after monitoring social media." Red Robin suggests, rubbing his chin.

Batman considers it before nodding. "I shall divide the teams."

The Justice League goes out, doing as instructed, and sure enough, they find the Undead Florist appearing more and more. Red Robing happily puts together the pattern, pointing to social media generated by the younger generation's demographics.

Undead Florist is an actual teenager using DCtweets to find heroes to bring flowers to. They have enough proof of that to show he's harmless if one ignores his more than impressive battle skills.

"Now all we need to do is catch him," Clark announces. "We don't want to scare him, but the Justice League really needs to know how he's doing all of this. It could be a security risk."

Meanwhile, Danny chills in his haunt, watching Sam tend to the flowers in a large greenhouse he placed for her. Tucker is typing away on a ghost zone-powered supercomputer, looking at all the Soul orders their business is getting.

The Ghost Zone didn't have a formal currency; they had Deals instead. Even small unconscious deals—like wishing on a shooting star, throwing a coin in a fountain, or sending a prayer or two—could be turned into deals if a higher being encountered them.

Luckily for those people, Danny and his lovers are very kind higher beings and choose to complete their requests in a way that satisfies all of their obsessions without stealing souls.

Sam got to spread her greenery across worlds, Tucker got to spend time with tech from different universes and Danny was able to explore and protect the souls of humans.

That Danny could exchange these Soul orders for gold was no one business but their own.

"Ohhh, another order, Red Robin, from Universe Nine!" Tucker crows. "It's roses in the shape of a heart from Kon-el. Aw, he's in love with his best friend!"

"That's sweet." Danny smiles, leaning over his boyfriend's shoulder to read the message he must memorize when he struts into Gotham. "I know how much fun dating best friends is."

"Let's help those losers confess then!" Sam calls, raising her hands as roses of various colors burst to life around her.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #everlasting trio #Dimension travel #The JL are confused #Danny is a flower delivery boy running a business with his boyfriend and girlfriend #Crack #Just imagine this scranny looking kid wander around #This is after Phantom Planet but no reveal #Just poly powerup #Deals are currency in ghost zone

[edenesth]

The General's Wife

Pairing: military general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

Word Count: 1117 words (I'd normally put it as 1.1k but uwu)

'Crazy Form' Comeback Special Series | Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho |

ATEEZ Masterlist

"Ooh, what's a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?"

You sighed, wondering when these men would ever learn. It wasn't your first time paying this bar a visit; they should know better by now to not mess with you.

Pushing your drink aside, you turned to look at the brave soul who was stupid enough to put his hand on your shoulder. He smirked when you remained quiet, "You're a shy one, aren't you? No worries, I can make things more fun for you."

The men around him were muttering fearfully amongst themselves, wide-eyed, "Does that fool really not have a single clue who he's dealing with?"

You shrugged off his hand and felt sorry for him, "Oh dear, I pity you." Confused, he followed your gaze as you showed him an emblem you'd pulled out from your pocket. His heart nearly stopped when he finally realised who you were.

"Y-you're... shit, you're the general's wife."

You winced, realising those might be his last words, especially when you saw your husband walking into the bar.

Seonghwa halted just behind the man, fixing an intense glare on his vulnerable back. In a voice that sent shivers down spines, he growled, "Have you grown tired of living, soldier? If you're looking for dumb ways to die, consider today your lucky day."

The man visibly trembled as he turned around slowly to face his superior, falling to his knees in fear, "G-General Park! I swear, I d-didn't know she was your wife—"

A resounding smack cut off his sentence as a powerful backhand slap connected with his face, sending him sprawling to the ground.

You gave a subtle shake of your head, silently urging Seonghwa not to escalate the situation. However, your plea proved futile as your husband, with a wink in your direction, assured you, "Don't worry, my love. I won't be too harsh on him. I'll give him just enough punishment to ensure he understands never to lay a hand on my wife again."

Despite his comforting words, you knew better than anyone those were lies. The man probably wouldn't see the light of day again. Beneath the sweet exterior he reserved for you, your husband harboured a ruthless side, a quality that propelled him quickly up the military ranks, earning him a formidable reputation.

Before becoming your husband, General Park Seonghwa was a fearsome military commander, striking fear into almost everyone. Uninterested in academics or any other pursuit, he was a natural-born warrior. At the mere age of 12, he knew he was destined to be the god of war.

However, amidst the battlefield and bloodshed, there was one thing he treasured above all else – you. His first and only love; he stumbled upon you in your backyard, clandestinely wielding your brother's sword in an attempt to learn self-defence when no one else would teach you. A noble lady yearning for more than a mundane life.

At first glance, he knew you were special.

Seonghwa vowed to make you his wife someday, and he did. Not one to follow rules, he sneaked into your backyard one day, scaring the daylights out of you. With sharp critiques, he pointed out the flaws in your stance, inadvertently teaching you enough to defend yourself.

In short, love blossomed before you discovered that he was none other than the renowned General Park, the King's most trusted warrior leading the royal army. When he sought your hand in marriage, your parents were more than delighted to see their only daughter assume the esteemed title of the general's wife.

Due to Seonghwa's crucial role in the kingdom, he frequently found himself deployed to battle whenever political tensions arose between Wonderland and neighbouring nations.

Despite his repeated warnings, you always made the journey to his war sites to be with him. During your visits, much like the current one, many of his inexperienced men, unaware of the situation, would mistake you for a lost civilian in a war zone and foolishly attempt to make advances.

Now, this unfortunate man, like those before him, would meet his end before having the chance to serve his country—all because he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

You were escorted out of the dimly lit bar before you could witness what your husband's right-hand man did to the poor bastard. Whatever it was, you knew it would be far from pretty. To distract you from the unsettling thoughts, Seonghwa wrapped his arm around you and kissed you hard.

Pressing a hand against his chest, your attempts to push him away were useless. He was well aware of your shyness, with his men watching and all, but that was his intention. He needed these fools to understand that you were his woman.

Sensing your discomfort, your husband gently cupped your cheeks, pulling back slightly to assure you, "It's alright, darling. I'm here. No one will dare touch you again. You trust me, don't you?" Without hesitation, you nodded; there was no one in the world you trusted more than him.

His heart melted at how swollen your lips looked, and he couldn't resist pressing his lips softly against yours once more.

With a self-assured smirk, he withdrew slowly, his arm securely wrapped around your waist. He turned to cast a cold gaze at the men who instantly cowered under his scrutiny, "What are you imbeciles standing around for? Don't you recognise who this is?"

They gasped and immediately straightened up, bowing deeply before offering salutes in your direction, "Welcome to the base, Lady Park!"

You acknowledged their greeting with a nod, and with an elegant wave of your hand, they finally dared to disperse. It was an unspoken rule that everyone under your husband's command had no choice but to follow. Those who defied these rules deserved nothing less than severe consequences.

As you nestled into Seonghwa's temporary quarters that night, a comforting warmth enveloped your heart as he drew you close in bed. Planting a tender kiss on your head, he asked, "My love, do you ever regret marrying me?"

Given your dislike for violence, it was truly ironic that you found yourself wed to a military general, of all people. He often wondered how a refined lady like you could fall for a man of his rough demeanour.

Before his thoughts could linger, you gently cupped his jaw, compelling him to meet your gaze, "Never. I want no one else but you." The intensity in your eyes conveyed a steadfast conviction, reminding him you were different from other women.

Indeed, you were special.

After all, you were the only woman audacious enough to capture the intimidating General Park Seonghwa's heart.

Would you believe me if I told you this man isn't my ultimate bias? Yeah, me neither. He wrecked me so bad this comeback, I'm barely recovering. Y'all stay safe tho lmfao.

Anyway, thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! As always, let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa x you #seonghwa x reader #ateez fic #seonghwa drabble #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #seonghwa imagines

[rileyslibrary]

Ghost is forced to dress up as Santa for the day and talk to kids.

You’re ordered to tag along as his Elf and do some damage control if necessary.

———————————————————————

You lean against his armchair, watching the chaos in front of you. Children are crying, tugging at their parents’ clothes, shouting both in excitement and fear, all while looking at you. A young boy keeps waving at your lieutenant, desperate to get his attention, but Ghost is too preoccupied with coming to terms with his new reality to notice.

You return his wave with a smile.

“Try to stay still, Santa,” you remind Ghost as you nod towards the boy. “Kids are watching.”

He snaps back into focus and redirects his attention to the queue. He stretches one last time, pushing on the armrests, before settling into the chair.

“Try not to tell me what to do,” he murmurs and waves back at the child.

You straighten up and tweak your green hat, triggering the bell at its tip to jiggle in your ear. You feel for him; you really do. He’s not supposed to be here; he’s not built for this. Unfortunately—for him or the kids, you haven’t decided yet—the “real” Santa broke his hip at the last minute, and your military base stepped in to provide a new Santa for the local community.

And what better replacement than Ghost, you may ask? Well, literally anybody else.

Dressed in a red costume with white faux fur trim, the lieutenant looks nothing like the man you experienced on the battlefield. His shoulders threaten to rip through the rented outfit, and the seams at the back hold onto each other for dear life. Since his belly wasn’t big enough to simulate Santa’s, you asked him to stuff a pillow under his uniform. Surprisingly, Ghost complied almost instantly, leaving you to wonder if he was using the pillow as Kevlar, a barrier between him and the kids or if he was secretly enjoying this.

You also convinced him to ditch the balaclava for the time being since he would now have plenty of props to conceal his face—a wig, a long beard, glasses, and a red hat with a white pom-pom, to be exact. Additionally, you attempted to trick him into applying some blush on his cheeks, but he side-eyed you and told you to ‘be careful now’—ironic for a man who paints his face daily.

You rub your temples, trying to keep calm amid the chaos of the mall as you prepare for what’s about to happen during the next few hours. You have no idea why Price chose him to be Santa, but you didn’t question it either. Ghost seems to be the least qualified for the job out of everyone in the base. It feels like a last resort, so to speak—a ‘that’s all we have left in the store’ solution.

On the other hand, you know precisely why the captain chose you to accompany him. “To monitor the situation,” he said—“To make sure we don’t get sued,” you heard. And, under normal circumstances, you’d be happy to tag along with Ghost—be it on patrol, on missions, or even transporting confidential documents. But in this situation? Acting as a troubleshooter rather than a teammate? You’d rather be anywhere else than here, with anybody else than him.

You take another look at him while he sits on the chair. He’s tugging at the uniform, scratching his head, and instinctively pulling the beard to his nose.

“Stop doing that,” you whisper. “It’s a beard, not a balaclava.”

“Price would have been perfect for the job, for fucks sake,” he spits. “He has the fucking moustache for starters.”

“Stop with the ‘fucks’ and the ‘fucking’ Ghost; you’re about to talk to kids! And, as for the captain, he said he couldn’t do it.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, lifting his hands from the armrests. “And what makes him think that I can?”

“I wish I knew, to be honest, but we don’t have time to go through this again,” you murmur, looking at your watch one last time. You approach the barrier, unclip the rope from the stanchion, and turn over your shoulder.

“Operation ‘Santa’ begins now,” you declare. “Ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” He replies, shrugging, and gestures for you to proceed.

And so it begins. Your first ‘customer’ arrives, and many more follow. You guide one family at a time into the enclosure and escort them to Ghost, who handles the rest. Some children are hesitant, peeking out from behind their parents’ legs, while others are much more direct with their intentions as they scream in horror at the sight of him.

On the other hand, Ghost is neither your typical jolly Santa nor the irritated lieutenant you’d expect. He appears to be... understanding. He reassures parents that it’s okay and there’s no need to force their children onto his lap if they feel uncomfortable. He initiates conversations with the kids from a respectful distance. He smiles with his eyes and hunches his shoulders to appear less imposing. Sometimes, he lures the shy ones into a handshake, a fist pump, or a high five by lowering his gloved hand to their level.

And then there are those other types of kids: the curious ones, the social butterflies. The ones who look forward to sitting on Ghost’s lap, diving into full-blown conversations with him. That’s when you stiffen up and switch into damage-control mode to ensure he won’t lash out at them. You begin hovering above them, listening, jumping into their conversations and sometimes interrupting Ghost and replying to the kids instead of him.

You would have thought he’d be grateful to have you managing the situation. Ghost, however, seems more irritated by you than by the little girl who’s currently playing with the pom-pom on his hat.

“Oi, Elf!” he says calmly, yet visibly annoyed. “Emma and I are chatting about how she spilt tomato juice on her Elsa costume and wants a new one for Christmas. Could you please falala off and go wrap some presents?”

“B-but I need to know because I’ll be sewing it for her,” you reply, smiling at the little girl. “Isn’t that right, Emma?”

And, although Emma nods her head, more out of necessity than agreement, you get his point. He’s doing surprisingly well with those kids, even without you. Actually, he’s doing remarkably well, especially without you.

More kids come and go, and Ghost slowly adapts to his new persona. He starts making bets with you, predicting which kids in the queue might ask for a PlayStation or an iPad and even speculating who might wipe snot on his costume. You, in response, adopt a more laid-back approach and let him do his thing. After each child’s visit, Ghost turns towards you, whispering in your ear about their Christmas wishes, as if he’s indeed Santa, and keeps logs.

“My man wants a full-sized car wheel,” Ghost murmurs as the young boy leaps off his lap, “can you believe him?”

“What did you say to him?” You ask, stifling a laugh.

“I told him I’ll get it for him,” he shrugs. “What else should I do?”

“Alright, but what did you really want to tell him?”

“That his dad already has four of them screwed in his car.”

As the day winds down, and the final announcement for the day echoes through the speakers, parents and children walk past you and towards the exit. They wave at Ghost and occasionally at you. The parking lot empties, the stores shut their doors until tomorrow, and the holiday lights that decorate the inside of the mall switch off one by one.

You stretch your back and tap on his shoulder, signalling that both of you should pack up and return to the base.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, grasping your wrist with one hand and tapping his thigh with the other. “You didn’t tell me what you want for Christmas.”

You’re exhausted but still manage to smile as you comply with his request. You sit on his lap, and he leans back to take a better look at you.

“Let’s think about it another way,” you say. “What would you, as Santa, give me for Christmas?”

“Coal,” he replies. “And a muzzle, so you don’t interrupt me while I’m talking. What was that all about?”

“Was afraid you’d say something bad,” you explain. “But you were pretty good with those kids.”

He shakes his head and plays with the fur trim on his sleeve. “Nah,” he murmurs. “I’d never say something bad to a kid.”

“Speaking of bad and coal,” you say, combing his fake beard, “you never asked the typical ‘have you been a good kid’ to any of them.”

“There’s no bad kid in the world, love,” he whispers. “All kids are good, even the naughty ones.”

You smile at him, but he doesn’t look back at you. He’s examining his uniform as if trying to find something else to discuss. He finds some crumbs a kid left on his suit and brushes them off.

“Ready to head back to the base, Lieutenant?” You ask, tapping his thigh before standing up. You extend your hand to him, and he gladly accepts it, helping him rise from the chair he’s been sitting in all day. You begin walking towards the exit, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder. You reciprocate by hugging his waist.

You walk up to the parked military vehicle that brought you here earlier, still discussing the day. He opens the door but pauses and turns to look at you.

“Resilience,” he declares. “That’s what I would gift you for Christmas.”

“Why?” You ask, turning to look at him. “You think I need it?”

“We all do,” he replies softly, just like when he used to talk to those kids. “Since I can’t protect you from every obstacle life throws your way, I might as well give you the ability to recover from them.”

“That would make me very happy, Lieutenant.” You say, smiling.

He smiles back at you and reaches for your hat to fix it better on your head. His hand moves to your forehead, and he tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

“It’s Santa to you.” He replies.

———————————————————————

A/N: Bruh, I was so tempted to make the reader pull off a Mariah Carey and say, “All I want for Christmas is you,” when Ghost asked what they wanted, but my gag reflexes kicked in every time, and I was cringing galore.

So, there you go: resilience. That’s what I would like to gift you as well. I wish I could shield you from whatever has troubled you in the past or is currently doing so. To protect you from future worries and make everything ‘falala off’. Unfortunately, I can’t do that, neither for you nor for myself.

But this is why comfort characters and stories exist—so we can imagine, when no one is there for us, that someone actually is.

Just like Santa. Just like Ghost.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x gn!reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #cod ghost #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #cod mw ghost

[wolken-himmel]

In which (Y/n) tells the dorm leaders that they're the most handsome person in Twisted Wonderland.

What was meant as an April Fool's joke somehow turns Night Raven College into a battlefield.

Idea by anon.

"Why did you go around and tell the dorm leaders out of all people that they're the most handsome person in the world? Why, (Y/n)?"

Deuce paced back and forth between the fire place and the couch of Ramshackle's living room, his hands crossed behind back. The frown on his face deepened even more when he found you lazily lounging on a nearby recliner.

"I thought it would be funny to see everyone's reaction!" you said and laughed to yourself. "And actually, seeing Riddle turn as red as his hair was hilarious. Also, you should have heard Idia's screaming through the tablet."

Ace's lips quirked upwards into a grin. "Okay, that does sound funny."

"Quit the yapping," Grim yelled from the other side of the living room. He had a few wooden boards in his arms and a hammer balanced on top. "I need help barricading the windows."

"Right." A hum of exasperation escaped Deuce's lips while he pointed into the direction where all the commotion was coming from. The noise must have originated from the main building, and the fact that it was still audible in the Ramshackle mansion was incredibly concerning. "I don't think you realise how dire the situation is out there."

"Did someone call me?" a newcomer suddenly asked.

All four of you whirled around to find Crowley standing by the entrance to the living room. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest. Without allowing you any time to react to his sudden appearance, he rushed over to your side with wide steps. His heavy shadow loomed over you.

"Oh, it's just you, Headmaster," you began and sat up. "How are you—"

He interrupted you with a dramatic sigh. "You truly offend me, my darling child." Without further explanation, he put his hand to his forehead and sank into the couch, right next to you.

"What?" You sat up straight. "What have I done now?"

"You go around telling the dorm leaders that they're the most handsome person in the world! But you forgot about me?" A playfully offended frown decorated his face. When the resident ghosts dared to peek around the corner in curiosity, he addressed them immediately, "Did the prefect also compliment you three?"

"Of course!" the ghost in the middle exclaimed dreamily. His eyes practically took the shape of hearts when he put his hands to his chest. "My heart began beating so quickly, I thought I had come back from the dead. The prefect truly has a way with charming people, dead or alive."

His reply had the headmaster sink into the cushions of his seat even further. "Oh, how you wound me..."

Deuce furrowed his eyebrows in innocent confusion. "Is that why you came here, Headmaster?"

At his words, Crowley lazily rose to his feet again and straightened his cloak. "Partly, yes." He cleared his throat, although he sent you one last glare before moving on, "I also came because the entire campus is a warzone. The dorms have decided to band together and fight against each other to defend their leader's honour. Everyone thinks the others are lying."

"See?" Grim pointed to the windows he had already barricaded. "And you think I'm the one overreacting?"

The volume of his voice had you rolling your eyes. "Calm down, everyone." Then, you finally summoned the willpower to rise to your feet. "Can't I just talk to them?"

"You must, since you are the perpetrator."

A rush of annoyance came over you. The constant noise from the main building caused a headache to form. You rubbed the bridge of your nose. "It was just an April Fool's joke... I didn't think anyone would take it this seriously," you muttered in resignation. "These boys... Fine, I'll go out and clear things up."

Grim stopped you before you could leave the living room. His large blue eyes shone meaningfully. "Henchhuman, just in case you don't return, I wanted to tell you that..." he trailed off and took your hand into his paws. "I'll be taking your favourite scarf! You won't need it anymore, right?"

At once, you ripped your hands out of his grasp. "You're an idiot, Grim," you grumbled and simply walked around him to exit the building.

Deuce came rushing after you. "We'll accompany you, (Y/n). That's what friends are there for."

"Really? Do we have to?" Ace asked with raised eyebrows. He seemed reluctant, still remaining by the fire place where he had last stopped pacing. But even he wasn't immune to Deuce's pressing gaze, and with the headmaster joining in, he was done for. Begrudingly throwing his hands into the air, he joined your side. "Fine..."

"I'll stay here," Grim yelled after the three of you, "to make sure they don't break in and steal my tuna."

"They're in the Hall of Mirrors. Please stop them before they destroy my prized mirrors!"

°

°

°

"I knew you were a schemer, Azul. But I didn't take you for a liar."

"You call me a liar, Riddle? Me and my business are very much trustworthy. The same couldn't be said about you, though."

You arrived in the Hall of Mirrors not a second too late. The place was packed to the brim with students from every dorm. Just blinking once had been enough to lose track of Ace and Deuce. And by now, you had given up on finding them in this huge mass of people. You would have never thought that you would one day see so many people fit into this hall. But here you were, struggling to make your presence known with the loud and large crowd.

You could already see most of the dorm leaders facing off against each other in the very middle, where the students had formed a pit. But none of them seemed to hear your voice over all the murmuring.

"Come on, let's get this over with quickly," Leona said and rolled his eyes. "As soon as we have established that you're all in the wrong, I can go back to doing something more productive, such as napping."

"Guys, why can't we all be the most handsome person in the world together? I'd be open to sharing the title," Kalim said in worry when he noticed how everyone's voice dripped with malice.

"As a matter of fact, 'most handsome' is the superlative form and implies that the title is exclusively reserved for one person only." Everyone's eyes solely lay on Malleus as he spoke, his deep and calm voice bouncing off the walls to reach your ears. The air turned cold out of a sudden, and nobody dared to whisper even a single word — not even you.

But Rook dared to cut through the tangible air with his cheery voice. "Oh, a fight for beauty! This battle will be legendary!" he exclaimed in excitement, as if he had been born for this very moment. "I will gladly defend your honour, Vil."

His dorm leader didn't seem to reciprocate his enthusiasm, however. "Quit it, Rook. We all know that the prefect's compliment for all of us was in mere vain — a joke to gauge our reaction," Vil said and flicked his wrist elegantly. "Tell everyone to return to whatever they were doing previously, I have more important matters to attend to."

"Ortho, can you get me more popcorn—" a voice came from the floating tablet in the first row. An embrassed shriek escaped its speakers once everyone turned their attention to it. "Oh, I forgot to mute... Sorry, everyone." And on cue, the speakers went silent.

An awkward cough went through the crowd, but the dorm leaders quickly returned to facing off against each other.

"So, shall we begin?"

"I suppose."

Just as one was about to make the first move, you managed to stumble into the middle of the pit. "No, stop it!" you yelled at the top of your lungs.

A round of gasps went through the crowd, and everyone's eyes widened in surprise at your sudden arrival. Vil was the only exception. "Ah, the prefect has arrived," the dorm leader drawled. Knowing chuckles escaped his perfectly painted lips. "Now, would you mind enlightening the others about your little joke?"

"Right, tell the others who you really think is the most handsome."

"Yes, I want to see the grins wiped off their faces."

You hated yourself after having gazed upon their expectant faces. Most of them wore a pair of puppy eyes that gleamed brightly with eagerness. Unable to face them, you lowered your gaze in shame. "Actually, I told every one of you that you were the most handsome person in Twisted Wonderland." Nervous chuckles escaped your lips when the entire hall went deadly silent. You raised your hands into the air defensively. "Please, it was just a joke. Today is April Fool's, guys."

Riddle clicked his tongue. "A punishment for unfunny jokes is in order."

"You hurt our feelings, (Y/n)!" Kalim cried out and put his hands on his hips. When Jamil handed him a handkerchief, the dorm leader blew his nose loudly.

An unreadable smile appeared on Azul's face. "Perhaps it is time we banded together," he suggested, as if negotiating for a contract.

Your smile turned more nervous by the second, especially when they began to circle you. "Guys? It was kinda funny, don't you think?" you said, suddenly unable to hold in your laughter anymore. "Your reactions were priceless."

"Get the prefect!" everyone yelled at once.

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #reader insert #y/n #disney twst #twst x you #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #leona kingscholar #kalim al asim #idia shroud #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #deuce spade #ace trappola #gender neutral reader

[maryangelex]

Home is the Feeling of You

John Price x Reader

Summary: You’re Price’s fiancé back home and it’s been months since you’ve seen him. He’s been on deployment and days have been getting lonelier the more days pass. Until you get home one night from work to a more than pleasant surprise.

Warnings/Tags: civilian!reader, fiancé!reader, creampie, domesticity, domestic!john price, fluff to smut, praise kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, masturbation, (light?) breeding kink, phone sex, spit as lube

A/N: so here’s the anticipated civilian!reader fic! I’m just a simp for this man being a husband or anything domestic about him. Enjoy!!! ;)

You were exhausted from work; feet swollen from being in heels all day, muscles tense and eyes burning with the desperate need to be closed and drifted to sleep. You were on your way home but weren’t too eager to get there, if you were being honest.

Your home felt cold and empty despite your best efforts to make it a cozy abode for you and John. But it was hard to feel the slightest bit of warmth in it whenever he was deployed. He had been gone for months now, you had lost count of how many since every day that passed without him felt like an eternity.

You two tried to keep in contact as much as possible. He called you nearly every day, as best he could; sometimes the calls would last seconds other times you managed to get half an hour with him to vent and catch up.

You felt bad every time you complained about your day, though, since he was in quite literally a battlefield most of his time. But he insisted you told him everything, he loved hearing you complain about mundane things, hearing about what shitty thing your boss did, or about your coworker’s crummy love life. It made him feel closer to you and gave him a sense of home to listen to you talk about your day.

When John would say things like “I miss you, love, I’ll be home in no time” or “I can’t wait to kiss that pretty face”, you couldn’t help but feel a fire kindling in your chest. It made you feel warm inside to hear him say that because you knew it was true; John wasn’t a man who lied, he carried his heart on his sleeve for you.

And when he wasn’t being tender and sweet, telling you how much he missed you and loved you, he’d let you know how desperate and needy he was for you. He’d tell you how the sound of your voice alone made his cock twitch in his pants. How the hand that wasn’t holding the phone had slid down his trousers, slowly stroking himself through his boxers.

You’d press your thighs together, listening to his husky voice become almost a whisper on the phone. His breath audible through the phone, letting out soft needy whimpers and promises about what he’d do to you the second he got home. You’d let yourself indulge and return the favor to him by telling him how you were wearing whatever lacy panties he’d bought you and how you were writhing in your shared bed as you pleasured yourself to the sound of his voice.

Still, those steamy calls between the two of you could only do so much for you. It only momentarily veered the loneliness away. You wanted him in your bed with you, wanted to have him watch football games on the couch, wanted to have date nights with him every Friday again, wanted his presence to warm up your flat and make it a home.

Once you got home the sun had already set. You took the stairs up to your and John’s shared flat, and with a sigh of relief, you pushed the door open. You walked in and closed the door behind you, dropped your keys on the tablet at your entryway, and stepped out of your shoes. Your feet touched the cold floor under you and the sensation drew another content sigh out of you.

You noticed the light in your kitchen was turned on. Maybe you left it on this morning after making breakfast without noticing, you were in a rush after all. As you approached the kitchen you heard the sound of something sizzling in a pan. Your heart skipped a beat, a smile creeping on your face at the realization that John was home. When you saw him there, standing in front of the stove with his back to you, you were filled with glee. Your stomach fluttered like it did the first time you two met when you bumped into him at that bookstore and almost spilled coffee all over him. When you first locked eyes with his, those glimmering blue pools.

He glanced over his shoulder and flashed you a smile before turning back to whatever he was cooking so diligently.

“Welcome home, hun” he greeted “‘m makin’ us dinner since I knew you’d be beat from work”

You walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. Your lips pressed against the muscles on his back, peppering kisses on the center of his spine, his shoulders, the nape of his neck. Your arms travelled up the front of his body, feeling the muscles on his chest and abdomen shift as he moved his hands whilst he cooked. You hugged him tightly, squeezing him as if to make sure he was really standing in front of you. As if the tighter you squeezed the more he materialized in your apartment.

“Not too tight, love, you’re squeezin’ the wind outta me,” he chuckled.

“I just missed you so much, John,” you confessed with another tender kiss to his back.

He hummed in acknowledgment with a smile still stuck to his face. He plated the meal for both of you; salmon and stir fried veggies. You released your arms from him painstakingly and grabbed a couple of wine glasses to pair with your meal. John took your plates to the couch while you brought the wine.

You collapsed down on the couch beside John, releasing another heavy sigh as your muscles sank on the plush material. John had set the plates on your coffee table along with the glasses, and handed you a fork whilst encouraging you with a gentle chuckle and a “Eat up, love.”

You sat up on the couch, turning to look at him. Both of your hands rose up to him and cupped his face lovingly. You looked deeply into his eyes; those eyes that always sucked you in, made you feel safe and loved. He looked at you with so much adoration, like he was silently telling you how happy he was to see you, be home with you. You leaned forward and clashed your lips with his, not pulling back for a minute and savoring the sensation of his lips against yours, how his mustache and beard scratched your soft skin. The two of you held your breath as you held each other with your lips, feeling as if pulling back was not an option. When you finally released each other, you sighed, your foreheads leaning against each other as you rubbed the tip of your nose against his.

“Missed you, hon,” he whispered, giving you another kiss, this one more chaste and playful than the prior one. His hand patted your knee, “C’mon, food’s gettin’ cold and I’m bloody starvin’. ”

You giggled as you both dug in. One of the things you missed the most about John was how well he cooked, his meals were hearty and comforting just like his presence. The two of you enjoyed your food as you caught up with him on everything you hadn’t mentioned in your calls these past few months. John spoke much less given the nature of his work, he much more enjoyed to listen to you, and he did so attentively.

At the end of your meal there was only the wine to sip on as you enjoyed each other’s company. The TV played quietly in the background. You were laying on the couch, your torso reclining on the arm rest as your feet sat on John’s lap next to you. He caressed the smooth skin of your legs with his big hands, gently squeezing the muscles on them every now and then. You nudged him with your foot, silently instructing him to keep up the massage. He took your foot in his hands, they engulfed him completely as he squeezed and rubbed them with his palms and thumbs. You winced at the feeling, making him stop and look at you.

“That alright?” He inquired, you gave him a nod in response.

“Just sore from standing all day”

“Let me take care of it” he grinned, his hands returning to work on your feet. His touch traveled up your leg, arriving at your calf, rubbing the tender muscle and eliciting a groan from you. John was enjoying the sounds he drew from you. His hands were getting more adventurous, sliding up past your knee and kneading at your thick thighs now. You gave him a grin and a cheeky look; he returned it.

“What’s crossing your dirty little mind, sweet girl?”

“Same thing as yours, hun”

His hands rubbed your thighs, putting pressure on them as he grabbed and massaged the bulks of muscle and flesh. You bit your lip as his hand wandered under your skirt. He was enjoying himself seeing your expressions shift and your cheeks flush red as he touched you. You reached one hand over to caress his forearm with your finger tips as he slid his hand further up your inner thigh, and your legs spread slightly as a quiet invitation.

“Needy girl,” he teased.

“C’mere already, John, will ya?” you quipped. John complied with your demand, as if waiting to hear you say it, like he needed your permission. He shifted on the couch, moving the leg in his hands to his other side so he could sit between your legs. He grabbed both of your thighs on each side, lightly sliding you down so you were flush with him. You could feel the bulge in his jeans pressing against your clothed heat. You teased him by rolling your hips against him a bit, to which he responded to with a groan and a squeeze to your thighs.

He bunched up your skirt to reveal your panties. His fingertips tracing the soft material over your hips and pelvis. Your hands rested on each side of your head as you watched him with lustful eyes. Now his hands were grazing over your mons, lowering to the crotch of your panties that was already saturated with your juices. His touch made you blush even more, you were embarrassed by how easily the man could make you wet, as if it was the first time he’s ever touched you.

“My girl’s so eager, look at how wet you are” he grinned, his voice low and sultry. He grabbed the hem of your panties and tugged them down, slowly sliding them past your legs and then discarding them. One of his hands palmed your exposed cunt. You wiggled your hips against it and let out a needy whimper.

“John, don’t tease me” you scolded him in a soft voice, more desperation than anything.

He hummed at your comment, sliding his fingers up and down your folds, while his other hand went back to massaging your thigh. He observed as his fingers worked between your folds, his eyes fixated on your glistening pussy. It made his mouth water at the sight of his fiancé being so needy for him, it made him think how much he really missed having you in his grasp. He placed his hand on your mons, thumb reaching down to rub tight circles around your yearning clit. It made you moan to finally feel his touch on your sensitive bud.

He cursed under his breath at the sound, his cock twitching eagerly in the confines of his jeans. You reached one of your hands to stroke him through the rough fabric, tracing the print of his dick.

“Please, John,” you begged “I want you already”

John chuckled, a hint of mischief behind it. “I know, love, I know…but let me take my time to enjoy you, yeah?”

You pouted but gave him an abiding nod. He took his hand off you, making you whimper and your clit pulsate at the loss. He shifted on the couch again, now kneeling in front of it as he pulled your legs again to face him. You were hanging off the edge of the couch in front of him with your legs draped over each of his shoulders, his face inches from your heat.

“Fuck, I missed this pretty pussy,” his breath fanned against your sensitive cunt, and you were so desperate for him to devour you already.

He stuck his tongue out and licked a stipe up your pussy, the taste of you making him moan and roll his eyes back. Your lips parted as you let out a sigh full of relief. Your hands pulled your skirt higher to watch him savor you. He lapped at your pussy, tongue flat licking from your hole to your clit. His hands gripped your thighs as they closed around his head. Your eyes would not break from the sight of him eating you out like it was his last meal on earth.

His lips closed around your swollen clit and sucked on it, making the muscles on your thighs twitch and a whimper fall from your lips. He alternated between encapsulating your clit in his mouth and licking tight circles over it with the pointed tip of his tongue. He was making you a mess of moans and whimpers as your hands clutched the material of your skirt.

He reached his arms under your thighs and over your pelvis; one splayed out and held you still while the other spread your lips apart, exposing your clit fully for him to once again abuse it with his mouth. His lips wrapped around it, sucking and tugging at the bundle of nerves, making your eyes roll back and your hands fly to his hair, releasing a moan with his name attached to it.

You received a moan into your pussy from him in return. He latched his mouth onto your clit, lips sucking and massaging it. His hands now gripped your hips, grinding them against his face as he clung his mouth onto your pussy.

You felt your orgasm pooling in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes were so far into the back of your skull you were seeing stars. Your mouth chanted John’s name loudly like a prayer for salvation, pleading him to let you cum.

He nodded his head in unison with your hips as he licked your pussy, tongue giving special attention to your clit. He whimpered into it in desperation to feel you cum all over his face.

“C’mon baby I know you’re close, be good and cum for me” he mumbled against your cunt, practically begging you.

The grip on his hair was unrelenting, your back arching off the couch and hips slamming into his mouth. Your orgasm surged within you, ready to erupt like a volcano of pleasure. You missed him so fucking much. He knew exactly how to please, always has. You rode his face as you came, your hot liquid leaking out of you and onto his face, coating his beard in it. You were twitching in his grip, your hips stilling and mouth agape as a choked out moan emerged from you.

John’s grip on your hips was literally bruising and you couldn’t be happier to have a reminder of his return home later. He slowed down, lapping at your vulva and kissing your soaked pussy, making sure to savor every bit of you.

He looked up at you, sitting straight up with your legs on his shoulders, his eyes gazing at you lovingly as you still panted and came off your high.

“You’re gonna give me one more, right love?” He said peppering sloppy kisses in your inner thigh. You nodded your head drunkenly. He reached up to your skirt, finally pulling it off you, as you worked on unbuttoning your blouse as best you could with your clumsy, shaky hands. But John was too impatient; he clutched the fabric and tore the buttons apart with ease like he was tearing a piece of paper. He chuckled at your surprised expression, he knew he’d get an earful from you later when you weren’t too hazy to scold him.

“I’ll get you a new one, sweetheart,” he said as his hands found your breasts, massaging them before unclipping your bra and tossing it away. He stood up in front of you now, your legs around his hips, and he took in the sight of his soon-to-be-wife all flustered and naked for him. That body he admired so much, that soft supple skin he loved to bite and caress, those perfect breasts and that pretty pussy that loved his cock so much.

He unbuttoned his jeans and tugged down his boxers, cock springing out free and swollen. The sight of it made your pussy flutter, ready to take him in finally. You were aching for him, already felt yourself aroused and ready for another orgasm from him.

He cupped your mouth in one of his hands, silently instructing you to spit on it for him, to which you complied. He brought the hand to his cock, pumping it a few times and lubricating it with the spit you provided for him. He aligned his fat tip with your entrance, slowly pushing it in at a burning pace. You moaned at the sensation, it had been too long since you had taken in John's impressive size and you were not as accustomed to it. You had almost forgotten how fucking good it felt to have his full length in you up to the hilt.

He cursed under his breath, "Fuckin' 'ell, love, I missed how good your pussy takes my cock", his hand briefly caressed your cheek when the base of his cock was flush against your pussy. His hands gripped under your thighs, his knees were on the edge of the couch and he folded you into a mating press position. His cock was buried impossibly deep inside of you, you could feel him in your cervix.

John began to move at a slow pace, his cock sliding in and out of you slowly, making obscene squelching noises that echoed throughout your apartment. "S'tight and wet f'me, darling", he mumbled. He gradually picked up the pace, his hands held onto the back of the couch while yours held your own legs up and open for him.

His pace became harsher and faster, pulling moans from the two of you. His balls slapped against your ass as he thrust into you, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix making you almost scream with pleasure.

"Ah, John..." you started, barely able to gather words to say as you looked at his face with wide eyes, your pupils blown, "J-John, you fuck me so good...I missed how good you fuck me"

Your words made him feral, making him pound into you. He watched your expression hungrily; lips parted shining with drool, cheeks bright red and burning, and your pretty eyes glossy with lust as they looked up at him.

"Fuck, baby, fuck..." he groaned as he leaned back, sitting up straight and grabbing your waist, slamming you against his cock as you held your legs open for him still "wanna see you with a big round belly under your pretty white dress... wanna fill you up with my cum, sweet girl"

He pressed a hand against your abdomen, "Feel that? y'like feelin' my cock inside you?" The pressure of his hand mixed with his words and relentless pounding made you mewl, your throat hoarse from all the noises John was drawing out of you.

"Y-yeah, John, feels s'good," you whimpered watching his dick bulge within you. You felt another orgasm surging like a wave in your stomach, your walls pulsated and clenched around John's throbbing cock. He felt you close, he knew you were about to cum when your cunt gripped his length relentlessly. He brought two fingers up to his mouth and wet them, then placed them on your pussy, rubbing circles rhythmically with every thrust.

"Cum for me, darling, cum around my cock," he said breathlessly, his eyes fixated on your face as he fucked you and rubbed your swollen bud.

You were euphoric, the overstimulation pushing you over the edge. A couple of more thrusts and attention to your clit and you were gone. Your legs twitched and your body convulsed as you came, gripping John's cock with your walls tightly. You cried out, tears streaming from your eyes.

It took everything in John to not let himself cum right then and there, the feeling of your walls constricting him almost pushed him over the edge with you. But he had other plans; he withdrew his cock from you briefly as he took you in his arm effortlessly, flipping the two of you around. You were shocked and puzzled at the quickness of it, now you were sitting on John's lap all fucked out and out of breath. He had you straddle him and you hold up yourself the best you could, with whatever strength your muscles had.

"J-John, please, I-I can't" you begged, holding onto him and already feeling his tip against your tender entrance again.

"Shh, s'alright, hon, you can do it, I know you can," he cooed, his lips against your ear as he slipped his cock back into you, "just can't get enough o' you"

He held you with one arm firmly around your waist and his other hand gripping your ass, his lips kissing your neck and coaxing you with praises and encouragement as he sunk you down on his cock. You moaned at the intrusion, you were so sensitive it was maddening. Your body was limp as you rested on him, arms lax around his shoulders.

You shut your eyes and let him fuck himself into you, letting him overtake your sense once again. He pounded up into you, holding you in place as his hips thrust up into your abused cunt. You were a mess of moans and whines as he chased his own high.

He was grunting and cursing under his breath, "My pretty fuckin' wife, my girl...takin' my cock so well...bein' a good girl lettin' me fuck you senseless." He was close, his thrusts getting sloppy and desperate. He hoisted your body up, grabbing your hair to make you look at him. You were cockdrunk, out of your mind, but you felt a third orgasm about to hit you like a truck again. John admired your dazed expression, his blue eyes now black with pleasure, he panted exhaustedly and full of desperation to empty his balls in you, fill you up like he said.

He took your face in his hand and clashed your lips together, moaning into your mouth as his hips stilled and the sensation of his cum flooding your insides made you cum with him. Both of you moaning into each other's mouths, your cheeks once again saturated with more tears. You pulled away from each other, panting out of breath with your sweaty foreheads resting against each other. You felt John's hot cum travel out of you between your legs. The hand that gripped your hair now softened, patting the crown of your head and smoothing out your hair. He looked into your eyes, admiring your post-orgasm face, basking in your beauty and in the afterglow of his own orgasm.

You smiled at him breathlessly, exhaustion all over your expression, you kissed him once more, this time more tenderly, putting all the love for him that filled your heart into your kiss. You pulled away and cupped his face, the two of you held each other, sweaty bodies against each other.

"Welcome home, John."

A/N: y'all... i did not intend for this to be so long again!!! but if you loved it and made it this far, let me know!!! thnx for reading ;)

#call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #fanfic #john price #cod fanfic #john price smut #john price x reader #john price cod #john price call of duty #captain john price #captain price x reader #captain price #price mw2

[feyascorner]

9 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. Rather than taking offense, he merely smiles. “You’re so harsh, love.”

“I wouldn’t be harsh if you didn’t deserve it.”

“I’m aware.” His voice lowers. “Though I rather like it when you’re cruel to me.”

You blink. 

Has he always looked at you like this?

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, tav reader is a bard, italics are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. officially in act 2 so there's like a few weeks of a timeskip!!!! finally getting to that blurry line between hatred and...wtv they are

also praying the tags work this time

“Wake up,” you whisper. “Wake up, Astarion.”

His body shakes as you pull him closer to your chest, ignoring how cold his skin feels against yours. There’s nothing out here except the two of you and the blissful gaze of the moon glimmering against all the other stars in the sky. Here, it’s as if nothing else exists.

Yet, the nightmares continue to haunt him.

“Cazador, he’ll come for us. He’ll come for you. He’ll make me watch as you die and laugh at my agony before he tosses me into that damned prison again for another year. Maybe even more,” he rasps. “Gods, you were so–there was so much blood—your blood—and all I could smell was–”

You shush him, running your hand through white curls. The sensation seems to calm him just the slightest. “He’s not here. I’m alive, and so are you. See?”

Gently, you raise his palm to where your heart rests and wait patiently for him to come back to you again. He melts into the steady thumping of your heart, shoulders slowly relaxing. It takes some time, but eventually, his panting slows, and he slumps into your touch. When you pull him close again, he shakes his head.

“I’ll kill him for what he’s done to me and what he could do to you.”

You answer him by intertwining your fingers with his own. In response, he tightens his arms around your waist.

“I’m going to love watching him scream.”

Crashing onto the ground does little for your already trembling knees.

“Again.”

Weeks have passed since your last uncomfortable encounter with Astarion, and you’d much prefer to keep it that way. And while things have mostly smoothed over with your companions, the obvious issue of the spawn remains a concern, though the murders have decreased significantly in passing times. You’re grateful there aren’t as many bodies, but it also makes you wonder what’s preventing them from killing as many as they did. Fear it, even.

Lae’zel’s wooden sword wipes you off your feet again, and you land face-first into the grass. Embarrassment floods your cheeks despite there being nobody else in the park.

“You’ve gotten rusty, istik.”

Clambering onto your knees, you grip your own sword to stabilize yourself. “Are you sure you’re not the one who’s gotten significantly better?”

“Flattery won’t save you on a battlefield, bard.”

“‘Was-bard,’” you correct her, using the sword to bounce back onto your heels. “And I think it’s saved us more than a few times. Remember that time I persuaded Yurgir to kill all his friends before we killed him?”

“A silver tongue has no use if the enemy is deaf,” she lunges at you, and you barely manage to stumble out of the way.

You hiss. “Why the hell would I be fighting a deaf enemy? And can you please warn me before you try to stab me?”

“There are no warnings in a real battle.”

“We’re not in real battle!”

She ignores you and lunges once more without warning.

You land on your ass again and again until you’re sure there’s a nasty bruise on half of your legs. There’s not enough time to register the soreness spreading to your knees, however, because by the time you’re up, she’s already coming at you again. It’s hopeless, you think, blocking another attack. Just as you’re about to give up and admit defeat, you see an opportunity in her stance. Seemingly laid back with how miserably you’re failing, you take it as a weakness and practically pounce at the opportunity to launch at her in return for your own bruises.

By some miracle, it lands.

She doesn’t fall as pathetically as you did, but she stumbles.

“Have you lost your touch, Lae’zel?”

You whip your head around to the voice where Shadowheart is under the shade of a tree, a letter gripped in her fingers. She paces closer to you and your opponent, raising a brow at the state you’re in. “Was it really necessary to beat them so harshly?”

“It worked, didn’t it? They managed to hit me,” Lae’zel scoffs, a hint of pride in her tone.

“Well, as wonderful of a time it is to watch you fight one another like beasts,” Shadowheart rolls her eyes, lifting the letter. “Tav and I need to get new clothes tailored, it seems.”

Lae’zel snatches the letter before you can take a look, her eyes scanning over the words before shooting to you. “A celebration?”

“A ball, more like,” the cleric steals the sheet right back, handing it to you. “In our honor, of course, for defeating the elder brain. About time we received something in return.”

You only briefly glance at the words printed on the letter. “This is too much.”

Both heads turn to you inquisitively. “I thought you’d be ecstatic for something like this. I recall you always used to sing about the songs people would make about your adventures.”

“That was ages ago,” you sigh, but Lae’zel doesn’t seem much happier either.

“They choose to celebrate while the city’s citizens are being picked off like prey by spawn? No wonder its inhabitants have turned out so puny,” she glances at you while she speaks. You contemplate rolling your eyes, though you’d rather not get knocked on your ass again.

“You and Gale can go tomorrow. I made reservations at the tailor for all of us, but Figaro says he can only take two a day,” Shadowheart tells Lae’zel. “You wouldn’t mind if I took your punching bag for a few hours, would you?”

“Tchk. I have the wizard as another target if need be.”

She tosses her braid over her shoulder as she nods. “Great. Let’s hurry then.”

They don’t give you much room to protest in the matter, already having made up their minds—not that you were going to object in the first place. You’re honored, really, that the city finds you impressive enough to throw a celebration in your honor, and you know your companions are more than deserving of it, too. But it’s as Lae’zel said.

There’s another battle brewing under the city, in its shadows, and in plain sight, yet you can’t do anything about it. It’s not like the elder brain. Killing the brain itself was enough to rid of the mind flayers, but in this case, killing one spawn only leads to hunting 7000 more. Most of which are being lied to by Astarion’s siblings.

You shake your head to rid of the thoughts. No. You deserve this. You went through hell and back with that bloody parasite in your head, so hells be damned if you can have one bloody night to yourself. One that doesn’t consist of consistently worrying about whether another body will drop dead while you sleep blissfully in the walls of your own home. You need this after all you’ve been through.

Still…

The silence as you walk alongside Shadowheart makes you cringe.

It’s not like she’s angry at you, nor are you at her. You understand her reactions toward Astarion, and you like to think that she does too. But with how things ended with him last time, your interactions with the cleric have grown increasingly curt, with short conversations baring down to the bare necessities. You’ve tried to speak with her, but each time the two of you are alone, the guilt gnaws away at your stomach—your confidence along with it.

This time, you swear. This time you’ll apologize.

“Shadowhea-”

“I shouldn’t have done it.”

You blink. Twice.

She doesn’t look at you, continuing to stride through the city streets. “It was unfair of me to blow up at you for letting Astarion feed. It wasn’t my choice, and I know that. I was only…”

You wait for her to continue, increasing the speed of your footsteps to catch up.

“...It was a selfish reason,” she mutters. “I did not want to lose you to him again. I’ve seen you the last time he hurt you, and you were practically a stranger to all of us. Even with defeating the elder brain, you didn’t seem happy in the slightest. He ruined so much that I—-I instinctively tried to make a decision that I have no control over.”

“It won’t happen again. Lying, I mean,” you blurt immediately. “I’ve learned, as hard as it might be to believe. I don’t want to drift from you again, either. I’m just sorry it took so long to bring this up.”

“I’m in no place to complain. It took weeks for me to understand how in the hells your thought process seems to work…And how you manage to make such bad decisions that somehow have a knack for working out,” she purses her lips. “I still don’t understand. Not completely. But I do also trust you know what you’re doing.”

You don’t know what you’re doing, but you think it’s better to avoid telling her that.

She smiles, and you already feel lighter. “It’s a miracle I’m alive, to be honest.”

“It really is. Trust me, I’d know,” she snorts in return.

“I do have quite the skilled healer at my side, which helps.”

Shadowheart stops in front of Figaro’s store, glancing back at you. You hadn’t even realized the two of you had walked this far, but she shrugs with a smug grin as she pushes through the door.

“Whatever would you do without me?”

You’ve searched the Blushing Mermaid at least a dozen times over now, in case you missed any of Dalyria’s things that might aid you in your search for the other siblings. Despite the tavern owners blocking the entrance, a simple mage hand or two was enough to pry open the wooden boards nailed to the basement door.  It’s been nearly three times now that you’ve come up empty-handed, but what harm could a fourth try do? Sure, you’ve scrummaged her desk seven times alone, but perhaps you might have missed a drawer or two…

The stillness of the night is disturbed as you lift the hatch leading to the basement, waving away the dust that flies into your face. You pocket Dalyria’s journal and begin your descent downward. The humidity hits your cheeks, and you sigh, swallowing your distaste for the crumbling lair to resume your investigation without any distractions. You expect another endless night of useless rummaging through the Hag’s old things and some of Dalyria’s own belongings, but doing nothing would weigh too heavily on your conscious.

Just as you enter the actual lair, you find that you are not alone.

A blond man stands on the other side, his back turned to you as he searches the desk you’ve already looked over multiple times.

Petras.

Sure, you’ve been searching for him for quite a while now, but for him to just waltz into you like this? You’re not sure if you’re insanely lucky or simply unlucky for not having stumbled into him until now. He remains unaware of your presence, and you take the opportunity to reach for your knife, willing your footsteps to feel lighter to avoid detection. Another skill a certain rogue taught you at a certain point, but never mind that.

The floorboard creaks under your weight.

Dammit. You’ve never been as good as he was.

He whips around, immediately on the defense. But as soon as he spots you, his shoulder relaxes, a scowl falling as he blinks. “Oh. You.”

Embarrassment burns in your cheeks, feeling like a child who’s been caught stealing an extra sweet from the cookie jar. Still, you straighten your back, shifting so he can’t see the knife clenched in your hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering when I’d see Astarion’s pet again,” he ignores your question, stepping away from the desk toward you. It makes your body tense. “You’ve been up to quite a lot since the last time we spoke, haven’t you? I hear you nearly captured my sister.”

“I’m not his pet,” you snap, more harshly than you intended. He raises a brow. 

“Fine. His blood bank.”

Your sharp glare is enough to send him your sentiments.

“Not a very willing blood bank, I see.”

“What are you doing here, Petras?” you finally snap.

He ignores you again, and this time, you contemplate chucking the knife at his head. “How’s my brother doing? Horrible, I hope.”

“He’s fine,” you retort through gritted teeth. It’s the nicest thing you can conjure up at the moment. “We would be doing better if you weren’t making a bloodbath of the city.”

“You nearly killed my sister as well.”

“Your sister is the one that attacked us after she said she was going to kidnap Astarion like he’s some sort of object. What was I supposed to do?”

“Well, I can’t blame you. She’s always been stubborn,” he shrugs. “But I am disappointed you chose to take my brother’s side after all he’s done to you. I would pity you, really, if you hadn’t gone and killed almost four of us already.”

“You can’t blame me for self-defense.”

Petras frowns. “Tell me, why didn’t you take our deal?”

“What?”

He paces a few steps toward you, standing at the platform of the lair while you stare up at him in bewilderment. “We’ve been watching you for an extended period of time now. We offered you everything you could possibly gain from a deal like this one, and you still rejected it. You’d get rid of us and keep the city safe. All the while, you’d never have to see my brother again. Dalyria says it barely seemed to phase you. I want to know why.”

“It’s—” you trip over your own tongue. You don’t even know why you feel obligated to answer him. “It just felt right at the time.”

“What kind of half-baked answer is that?”

“I answered your question, didn't I? Now answer mine.”

Petras furrows his brows, glancing at Dalyria’s desk behind him. “I take it you know what we plan to do?”

You purse your lips, and it’s enough of an answer for him.

“I wanted to take Astarion by force, personally. But Leon and Dalyria…they’ve grown considerably soft after Cazador left,” he rolls his eyes at the thought, crossing his arms. “...A shame. That kind of fragility won’t get them anywhere in this world. Those fools are destined to die or to live at the bottom of the barrel, forever feeding on city rats.”

The way he speaks of his siblings makes your stomach churn.

“You’re a bigger fool if you think I’m going to let you go through with the ascension,” you hiss. “You’ll kill all those spawns. They’ve put their trust in you to lead them, and you’re lying straight to their faces as if their lives aren’t worth the crap on your shoes–”

“And how did things turn out the last time you tried to stop the ascension?”

This makes your throat go dry.

“Take this as our last warning, bard. Or else we’ll come and take him ourselves.”

“He’s your brother,” you blurt in exasperation, waving your hand in disbelief. “You can’t possibly want to kill him, even if he’s an asshole from time to time! Cazador is gone. You’re free! There’s nothing else to run away from!”

You don’t know why you’re defending him.

But it pours out of your chest, and you already know trying to choke it back up won’t reverse what’s already been said.

With your words seemingly going in one ear and out the other, Petras clenches his fist at his side and glowers down at you with a sharp inhale. Despite his attempts to appear composed, you can see the vein bulging from his forehead, threatening to burst if you push him any longer. “He stopped being my brother the second he tried to ascend.”

“Still—”

“He attempted to kill the rest of us for the sake of his own wellbeing. What makes him any different than Cazador himself?” he argues. “Cazador always took a special interest in Astarion. I see now that it’s because they’re so similar. In life or in death.”

For some strange reason, this makes your blood burn.

You can hear Astarion’s gasps as his master’s nightmarish toll awoke you both on those starry nights when the parasite still swam in your heads. How cold he’d felt in your arms, rasping into your chest as you calmed him. White curls brushed against your hand as you pulled him close. You’ve never wished to the gods for much, but in that moment, you begged them to let him forget. To give you something—anything—to soothe the trembling of his hands.

Astarion could have been like Cazador. He’d come dangerously close to becoming the very monster that tortured him for centuries, but he hadn’t. Whether it was voluntary or not, it doesn’t matter because, at the end of the day, he isn’t Cazador. And you plan to keep it that way as long as your fingers can still clutch your blade.

“I was planning on paying you a visit,” Petras says, catching your attention once more as he slips out a scroll from his sleeve. “Though I suppose you’ve made this easier on the both of us…especially if you die here.”

You take a step toward him, heels digging into the ground. “If you think I’ll just—”

“If you’ll only get in my way, then I have no problem with watching you perish.”

With a shout, the scroll glows a lime green, and a long groan echoes from the bodies scattered throughout the room.

Shit.

The spawn adjusts his hood back around his head, sparing you a pitiful stare. “You’ve chosen your side, and it's the one that's destined to lose. Good luck, bard…I hope your death isn’t as painful as it could have been at Astarion’s hands.”

And just as the undead begins to crawl toward you with an agonizing screech, he puffs up into a cloud of red smoke and vanishes.

You need a bath. Terribly.

Barely scraping out with your life, you can’t say you’re a pleasing person to look at with the dirt and blood smeared across your body. The sleeve of your shirt is torn open, and while a few healing potions have done the trick to heal most of your injuries, the more minor splits and cuts remain an insistent reminder of the war you’ve just declared with the vampire spawns.

Well, they’re the ones who declared it, but the point stands.

You manage to wash out a lot of the blood by the time you return home, praying your disheveled state can’t be seen with the effort you’ve put in to look presentable. Your worries are put to rest, however, when you realize just how late it’s gotten into the night, as all your companions remain blissfully asleep as you limp into the house, barely able to stand upright.

Everything is a blur. How you managed to fight off a dozen undead is a mystery to you, but it’s not unwelcome. At least there’s nobody here to scold you.

But even that, you realize, is a false sense of security when you sense him from the stairs. You’ve learned not to anticipate any creak in the floorboard when he’s the one pacing on them. Rather, you’ve learned to expect a concerning bloodthirsty presence and two eyes boring into the back of your head as if you’ve grown another head. It eventually becomes easy to sense his aura even from across the living room.

You hope the darkness conceals the bruises on your body. “What do you want?”

“You’re bleeding again,” he says, and it’s not a question. “I could smell it from upstairs.”

A scoff. “What are you? A dog?”

Astarion doesn’t bother responding to your snide comment, coming closer. You can finally see his expression in a daze as he approaches your vicinity. He’s present, but not really, as his focus shifts from you to your hand to your face again repeatedly as if he’s unsure what he’s even doing here.

You’d recognize his mannerisms anywhere.

“Are you drunk?”

“I recall you saying you were visiting the tavern.”

“I was at the tavern.”

He barks a laugh. “My dear, you can tell as many pretty lies to the others but not to me. I can see right through your little game like an open book.”

Curse him.

“I asked you a question first,” you opt to change the subject, remaining firm. “How much did you drink?”

“I didn’t break any rules, as far as I’m aware,” his words slur messily as he leans against the wall, a pink hue spread across his cheeks. “I just drank…a tiny bit more than usual.”

He’s most undoubtedly tipsy, at the very least.

Astarion pushes himself off the wall and toward you, where he squints down at you with what you assume to be some variation of curiosity. His eyes do not hold the usual hostility they usually do, somewhat clouded in a mist of relaxation that’s dangerously close to overflowing. You inch backward.

“Your turn,” he breathes. “Why are you bleeding?”

While you were out risking your life, the bastard must’ve been having the time of his life if the unsteadiness of his steps is any indication. You bite the inside of your cheek bitterly.

“I met Petras just now…more like ambushed, actually,” you respond, pacing the kitchen to wipe off the dirt staining your elbows. You pour yourself a glass of water, but the second it touches your lips, you flinch, the split on your lip still too new to be challenged. So, instead, you set the glass down, eyeing the way he mindlessly stares at you without a thought running through his mind.

Still, he’s giddier than usual, snorting at the state you’re in. “You couldn’t have possibly lost to my brother. He has muscle but barely any wit.”

You remain silent, and his smile grows wider. “Oh! You really let the bastard get away. Well, isn’t this a surprise! Excuse my error; perhaps you aren’t as invincible as I pegged you to be.”

“He caught me off guard.” Hot discomfort courses through your veins.

“Pish posh,” he waves you off, teetering in your direction. “It’s no good if you refuse to admit defeat, my dear. It’ll come back to bite you in the behind later.”

You watch with half-lidded eyes, unmoving from your spot beside the counter as he scrummages around the cabinets for nothing other than the very substance that’s reduced him to this pitiful state. Ironic, you know, considering the tavern had practically been your home only a few months prior. “How did you even get drunk? There isn’t nearly enough blood here for that.”

His face brightens when he finds what he’s been searching for. He uncorks the glass bottle and inhales the stench of blood. While it makes you scrunch your nose, he sighs dreamily, shoulder going slack. “Gale accompanied my hunt again, and I managed to find not one but two bloody bears. One of which was oh so gratefully already wounded. You can be smart when you want to be; I’m sure you can imagine the rest.”

You don’t want to imagine it, actually.

“I think you’ve had enough,” you pluck the bottle from his hands, and his expression immediately falls. He almost looks like a kicked puppy. It makes your chest swell with pride.

“Why? Would you rather I drink from you?” he tries to reach for it, but you step out of the way. “As enticing as that sounds, I’ve already had my fill of exotic blood for tonight. All I need is the dessert to top off the feast I’ve had, and I’ll be satiated for at least a few days.”

You glare at him. “You’re already drunk, you don’t need anymore.”

“But I want more,” he slurs again, and you attempt to move the bottle behind your back, but his hand is already expecting this maneuver. With embarrassing ease, the bottle slips into his grasp, and he takes a long sip of blood while forgetting how you remain caged against the counter, arms blocking any sort of exit you can take to slip away.

You can count his eyelashes from this distance.

He lifts his hand to wipe at his mouth, and much to your relief, you manage to escape the suffocating feeling of being surrounded by him. His scent, his voice, just everything. You close your fists, itching to retreat into the comforts of your own bedroom rather than continue to watch his focus zone in and out until narrowing down on you. “Are you done?”

“Mm, it’s sweet, but not sweet enough. It’s not quite a dessert, I’m afraid.”

“You don’t even like sweet things,” you scoff. You don’t know why you remember this. You shouldn’t remember this. It’s not even your concern anymore.

He stares at you. “I make exceptions.”

Unwillingly to figure out the implications of his words (and whether or not it comes off as a threat), you run a hand through your hair and sigh. “Petras seems hell-bent on kidnapping you.”

“Let him try. The poor fool wouldn’t stand a chance against any of us, much less all of us simultaneously. At least it’ll make for quite a show.”

“And let him kill more people in the process?”

Astarion tilts his head, albeit only slightly. He lacks the usual polish of his charm. “Ah, we couldn’t dare allow a few unlucky souls to perish. It’s not like the inevitable fate of death is waiting for them anyway.”

Sarcasm dripping from his tongue, you decide he’s not nearly sober enough to talk about this. He’s barely keeping himself upright with his arms perched on either side of the counter. He’s close enough that the scent of blood muddles all of your other senses. The softness in his eyes makes you squirm, and the small voice in your head that is your intuition screams for you to get away before…well, you’re not sure what, but it’s what it’s telling you.

“Go to bed,” you order him, though it sounds more like a plea. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“The night’s only begun, though.”

The answer spews out immediately. “I miss to see where that’s my problem.”

Rather than taking offense, he merely smiles. “You’re so harsh to me, love.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the nickname catches you off guard. It’s one he hasn’t called you since…everything. One that you’ve learned to bury into whatever corner you can find in your memories, hoping never to see them again. For a split moment, you can feel your resolve falter. Still, you refuse to show him what a simple word does to you and steel your will to leave this for a proper time when you’re both not nearly delirious. One from blood and the other from a battle.

“I wouldn’t be harsh if you didn’t deserve it.”

“I’m aware.” His voice lowers. “Though I rather like it when you’re cruel to me.”

You blink. 

Has he always looked at you like this?

He’s not just drunk, you reason. He’s completely wasted.

“Astarion,” you lean away. “You’re drunk.”

He ignores your warnings with a click of his tongue. “My mind is clearer than it's ever been after I got that damn parasite out of my head.”

His delirious expression says otherwise.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh irritably. “Whatever game you’re playing, I want none of it. I’m tired, so just leave me be, will you? Get out of my way.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“You’re the one blocking me from leaving!” you fume, pointing at his arm.

“That’s not what I mean. You’re…” he sighs, dropping his head wearily. “…you’re no different than that parasite, come to think of it.”

Appalled, you just gawk at him, jaw agape. “Please tell me I did not just hear you say that.”

He laughs, throwing his head back as he straightens his back. His arms fall back to his side, providing you just enough space to squeeze out of the way, but you find yourself staring up at him as he recollects himself. “It’s rather frustrating. I suppose, at the very least, unlike that worm, you’re a pretty thing to look at.”

What in the hells is going on?

First, he calls you a parasite and then proceeds to flatter you barely two seconds later, having nothing but hazy blurs in that thick skull of his. You wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to kill you again next. In fact, you think it’s probably best to retreat now when you can—even if he’s gazing down at you as if he expects an answer to his previous statement.

You should leave.

Your legs remain rooted in place.

You should definitely leave.

“Call me that again, and I’ll install bars on your windows,” you grumble, only half meaning it. Mainly because it would be a hassle to build. “Just go, Astarion. I don’t want to speak with you.”

“Convince me.”

You quirk a brow. “What?”

“Convince me that you don’t want me here,” he says firmly. “Then I’ll leave.”

Gods, has he lost it?

“Are you serious?”

“Am I ever not? I may deceive you, but I always take you seriously. You must know this.”

Barely stopping yourself from punching that smug smile off his face, your brows furrow. And with gritted teeth, you hiss. “Well, for one, you stink of blood.”

“What a pleasant fragrance indeed.”

“Two,” you continue. “You’re barely standing on both feet, which tells me you aren’t in any position to discuss what I want to right now—which, by the way, is your own damn brother.”

He hums.

“Three, you’re an asshole.”

“Very convincing, darling.”

“So I’ve heard,” you snap, rolling your eyes. “Do I need to say more?”

Astarion steps closer, making your shoulders tense. “Tell me more about how I’m an asshole.”

The blood he drank must contain some sort of drug, surely.

“You leave bottles all over the living room,” you begin, and slowly, the words begin to spill out as if they’ve been waiting to be thrown at him for a while now. “You don’t help clean at all. You make jokes only you find funny. You fight with Shadowheart all the time, and it makes everyone uncomfortable. You walk around at three in the morning and scare the crap out of me just because I wanted some water.”

He nods. “Go on.”

“You’re always sneaking out, even though we tell you not to. You don’t even tell us where you’re going and then get surprised when Lae’zel wants to execute you again! You come home at bizarre times, and the hallway smells like blood all the time, and—and—-” You’re rambling now, you realize, but you’re too exhausted to give a rat’s ass about it. So instead, you push a finger into his chest pointedly, scowling. “---you’re just not pleasant to be around. You’re the biggest asshole I’ve met, and trust me when I’ve met a lot of assholes. I’d rather all of them than you.”

Astarion’s lashes flutter as his gaze flits across your face. “Is that so?”

With narrowed eyes, your fists tighten. “Hells, I don’t even know why I’m here with you because I should’ve been at the tavern sleeping with some other random bastard by now if your damn brother didn’t-”

Suddenly, the breath in your lungs is knocked out as the back of your hips bumps against the counter, knocking over your glass of water.

Before you can discern whatever emotions are being evoked by his lack of awareness, the already minimal distance between the two of you closes as he smashes his lips against yours. It’s harsh. Fueled by hatred, it’s by no means a pleasant show of affection. It burns, sending sparks throughout your entire body as you sink into his touch, feeling the full force of the smallest of movements; he seems dangerously close to what you might describe as desperate.

Unable to fully process what’s happening, you only stand there, stock still.

Your eyes might fall out of its sockets with how wide they are.

He’s kissing you. 

Astarion is kissing you.

And instinctively, your body, if for a split moment, kisses back.

What. The. Fuck.

Thankfully, you’re quick to realize what’s happening, and you abruptly shove him away, stumbling in the process. It seems he’s sobered up on his end because he appears just as shocked as you are, the blood staining his pretty lips being the only proof that the kiss did indeed happen. He blinks rapidly, first trying to take in your expression. You don’t think you’ve seen him this lost in ages. But that's not your concern right now.

He starts. “Darling, I–”

Your fist punches into his stomach, and he reels.

Tags: @ayselluna @littleenglishfangirl @bg3obsessedsideblog @iwillpissyourpants @cyberpr1m3 @snowlotr @road-riot @spacekidnova @madislayyy @lordfishflakes @nicalysm @djarinsway @tinystarfishgalaxy @brainz00 @hopeful-n-sad @ohdeerieme @madisban @chrismarium @chonkercatto @fanfic-share @bitterbeanren @sleepyred1703 @miskouly @ravenswritingroom @iamlowkeycrying @deezus-roy @spiritraves @mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc @whisperingwillowxox @bdudette @misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @marina-and-the-memes @kiwi-mansanas @woosaaghh @cminr @everybodystaycalm @divineknightmare @bangtanbecks @carolinelec @aelieknox @bluelovesleep @catching-fire-in-the-wind @moonlight-stay @thatbeanieboss @atotalmess-lol @lavender-romancer

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #feyascorner #bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion fanfic #bg3 companions

[lewdmommie]

Just friends

Summary: can y/n manage being just friends?

Word count: 7.k

🎀Warning🎀:18+NSFW, oral sex, language, fluff, angst, violence, gore, sexual content,panic attack etc

(Like, comment, reblog for part four💗)

This is part 3 of one night stand

Part 1

Part 2

“We need to talk about yesterday.” You state firmly. Your tone was completely different from your usual lighthearted and funny personality. König and Ghost have quite literally seen you crack a joke in the middle of open gunfire. This was uncharted territory for them, whatever you were about to say had to be important. You take a deep breath, thinking of your next words carefully. The last thing you wanted was to hurt anyone again…especially König.

“Spit it out rookie.” Ghost says annoyed.

“Oh god how do I even say this…I feel something…something I can’t explain when I’m with you.” You look at König, he shifts nervously under your gaze.

“And with you.” Your head turns to face Ghost, staring into those glimmering obsidian eyes. He breaks eye contact looking far off into the distance without a word.

“I don’t know what it means but I know it’s something I can’t ignore.” Your brow scrunches as you choke the words out.

“I want to get to know you both and I’m here to ask for that opportunity. I’m here to ask you to be my friends. No titles. No rankings. No romance. Just…friends.” Your teeth nibble at your lower lip waiting for someone else to talk. It was nerve racking not being able to read their facial expressions. Their body language didn’t give much away either, you shift on your heels.

“That’s what you barged in here to ask for… friendship?” He slowly rises from his desk glaring in your direction.

“Well…yeah” Your voice is low.

“Do you really think friendship can fix everything?” Königs voice is dark, he speaks the word friendship as if it was something rancid on his tongue.

“I’m not saying it can I just…” you explain.

“I don’t need to be a part of whatever you two have going on. Leave. both of you.” Ghost barks.

“You seemed to be a part of it yesterday when you had your hands all over her.” König rasps, turning his killer gaze onto him. Ghost strides from behind the desk, his heavy footsteps fill the air as he takes slow deliberate steps forward. The tension is so thick you can cut it with a knife. A chill runs down your spine as you’re standing flush in between these skyscrapers. He stands tall looking König straight in the eyes, not even acknowledging your presence between them.

“I don’t like your tone colonel. I think you’d better change that.” His head tilts mockingly, sizing him up.

“I was just thinking the same thing about you sergeant.” He beams into him like white hot lasers.

“Hah, you’ve always been balsy König, could always count on you to get the job done. But I want you to remember something…you can beat them out there on that battlefield but here this is my territory and you won’t win.” He steps closer making sure he heard every word.

“Why don't we find out serg.” He says through clenched teeth. At this point you’re sure they have completely forgotten your existence . You plant your palms on ghosts chest pushing him back, he seemed to snap back to reality realizing you were still there.

“This isn’t the time or the place…no war within our army. Those are your words sergeant! As a leader you have to practice and enforce that as law. König I know you’re angry and have every right to be but last night was training and that’s all. I won’t keep repeating myself anymore, I get that it’s hard to trust but you’re going to have to try.” You scold.

“ Why do you care so much? How can you stand here and act like you know what I want. You don’t know anything. I’ve never given you the impression that-“ Simon rambles.

“I know it sounds stupid, crazy even, but I know you want to get closer to me Ghost.” You say gently, König tenses at the soft tone of your voice…had you ever spoken to him that way? He couldn’t recall a time you had, and that made him envious.

“You need someone. You’ve spent so much of your time in isolation, it’s time to let people in.” Never had he heard you sound so sure of yourself.

How could you break down his walls so easily, there is something about you that made him feel at ease. When he’s with you it feels like he’s allowed to smile,Things feel easier…happier. But he knew from experience things like this didn’t come so easy. People always get hurt when love is involved.

“And König…I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of being angry and resentful towards each other. These past few weeks have brought us closer together and I don’t want to ruin that with one misunderstanding.” His face burns tomato red under his mask, but he wouldn’t show it. His shoulder stiffen as if he’d been sliced across the chest. How could such beautiful words hurt this bad , you’d summed up his feelings for you perfectly but he couldn’t shake the thought of you being so involved with Ghost. Being your friend sounds like absolute torture but it was a ray of hope. Hope that one day maybe you would undoubtedly love him back. He felt like a lost puppy waiting to be owned by you…it was foolish but he couldn’t stop himself. Your naivety muddled the fact that this would be war and you were the prize.

“It has always been you. I’ve got so much blood on my hands it could run a river red and yet you were granted the title of sergeant. You’ve somehow made sure I was one step below you but that’s gonna change. You said I couldn’t win…watch me.” He says sharply.

“So this is your playing field…her?” Ghost looks you up and down with judgmental eyes. You grimace wondering why he looked so unimpressed.

“Hah, fine I’ll bite. What are the rules of the game?” Ghost chuckles, you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“We get individual days to spend with y/n and the other person cannot interfere.”

“And what about the days that aren’t accounted for?” His head tilts curiously.

“First come first serve. It’s up to y/n who she would want to spend that free time with even though I know it’ll be me. No one likes being around you.” König taunts, it isn’t clear if it’s the jealousy talking or the militant hunger for victory. Either way you didn’t appreciate them auctioning off your time and affection like some silly little game.

“You’re on. It’s about time I remind you of your place, colonel.” He reaches out an open palm, König grasps it firmly, shaking on the terms.

It’s like everything you said completely went over their heads but you knew it would take patience and time to build a stronger relationship with them. If thinking of it as a competition got them on board, then you’d just have to play along.

~

Your arms tremble as you push the weighted bar up with all your strength. Your shoulders burn with each rep begging for a break, to your body’s dismay, you were just warming up. You look up into caramel colored eyes, Maya smiles down at you as she helps support the weight of the bar. With a final push you line it up with the metal stand, it lands with a loud crack. You sit up, sweat pouring down your face. Maya removes the white towel from around her neck, she dabs away the stray droplets as they fall. She was always right there at your side helping you with even the tiniest of things.

“Remember to hydrate. The body can lose up to 10 liters of water a day when active.” She hands you her purple water bottle.

“Your knowledge never ceases to amaze me, you're gonna make a great doctor one day.” You tip the bottle up, taking several gulps before coming back up for air. Maya’s eyes softened, she needed to hear that; with all the death and injuries on base that passion could be lost. She is a practicing apprentice Doctor on base as she studies remotely to get her doctorate in medical science. Balancing education with active military duty was no easy feat, personal attachment can get in the way. People she laughed with, pulled pranks on, sat and had meals with…had died in her arms. Brutal excruciating deaths that she could do nothing about. No matter how hard she tried to save everyone…their blood still stained her hands. She thought often about what she would do if you got hurt…could she save you? Maya shakes the negative thoughts away reminding herself that you were one of the special forces best. You may be a handful but you were damn good at your job.

“Thank you y/n, you don’t know how much that means to me.” She stamps a kiss on your forehead.

“I walked in on Sergeant Ghost and Colonel König talking about some new intel on the target. There might be a raid soon, I know how anxious you are with new missions.” A look of discomfort flashes on her face leaving just as quickly. She puts on a fake smile not wanting to put any more stress on you. You were the one who would be out there on the front lines risking your life and she didn’t want to worry you.

“I’m okay,really, you get used to it.” You weren’t sure if she was trying to convince you or herself.

“If you ever need to talk…I am here Maya. I’m always here.” You bore into her with sincere eyes.

“and that’s why you’re my best friend. Now come on, we gotta keep that heart rate up.” She takes your hand, helping you to your feet. The two of you walked over to the pull up bar, arm day was not fun…at all. Your muscles were already achy and tired but you had to push in order to build endurance.

“Can’t I just work on legs today, that’s so much easier.” You whine, Maya laughs patting your lower back.

“As much as I agree with that statement, no. You handle high caliber weaponry. if you’re not strong, All that push back could damage your muscles.” She raises her arms holding the stretches in ten second intervals. Because of her insane height there is no need to use a stepping ladder, she simply reaches up and gets to work. Her fingers graze the bar before pulling back suddenly.

“I forgot my chalk, it helps prevent blisters, I’ll be back. Go ahead and start your sets without me. I gotta run back to our room.” She jogs off leaving you standing alone in the gym. You always felt slightly self conscious being in the weight room without a partner. Like everyone was watching you. Judging you. In reality no one even glanced your way but that didn’t stop the anxiety from striking. A small tremor shakes your hands as you reach up for the bar. It’s way too tall to grab on your own, Maya was usually there to give you a lift. You scan the area for a spare stepping stool or chair but everything is occupied. Eyes. Eyes everywhere. There looked to be two of everything as your vision doubled.The room begins to spin and your knees feel weak, where was Maya? When would she be back? Maya? Maya? Maya?!

“Y/n look at me. Are you okay? Should I take you to the infirmary?” Your vision begins to focus turning the two ghosts in front of you, into one. Your breathing is shaky, you nod unable to speak. His head tilts forward with concern, his bare hand cups

your elbow as he pulls you closer.

“Your eye movements are unsteady,breathing accelerated, pupils dilated…you’re having a panic attack. Talk to me y/n what is distressing you?” His voice is gentle, calming even.

“People. Just so many people. M-Maya left… I’m alone. I-I don’t like being alone.”you choke. His heart breaks at your words, loneliness was no stranger to him. Thinking back, Ghost couldn’t recall a time when you weren’t surrounded by people. He figured it’s because of how likable and fun you were but now the dots began to connect. You made sure to never be alone because it scared you…just like it scared him.

“I’ll stay with you.” His voice was earnest, he surprised himself with his sudden reaction. Normally Ghost worked out alone as he did with most things. But he wanted to help you, seeing you so shaken up tugged at something deep inside him.

“That’s it…slow deep breaths. One…two… exhale three. Very good.” He coaches. He looked to be very familiar with this sort of thing, you wondered if he’d dealt with this before. Ghost didn’t seem like the type to deal with anxiousness, he was always so cool headed.

“I’m good now.” You huff.

“Are you sure? We can go somewhere more private.” Your face heats up at his word choice, you remember the wet dream from just nights ago.

“N-no I’m fine, I still have a few sets to do.” You slide your elbow from his grasp.

“Then let’s do it… I assume your next set is pull ups and judging by your size, you usually have Maya help you up?” He hypothesized walking behind you to examine the bar.

“Yeah Maya always lifts me up-“ your words are cut off by his strong hands sinking into your waist. His fingers press into the soft plush of your hips, the crotch of his cargos rubs against your ass. His eyes fall low as he stares down at you, his thumb absentmindedly drawing circles. You don’t speak up, getting lost in the comfort of his touch. The rush of his heart vibrates through your back, the rise and fall of his chest quickens. You can hear the heaviness in his breath, the heat in his mask makes sweat bead at his brow. This isn’t the first time your bodies have met this closely but somehow this felt…Different. You snap to the reality that there is a room full of people here witnessing this moment. That idea made you focus on the initial goal…pull ups.

“I’m ready.” You assure, jumping as he hoists your body up with ease. Your fingers begin to slip, ghost bounces you up, allowing you to readjust the grip.

Even with the extra help, your arms burn as you pull the entirety of your weight up and over the bar. Your chin taps the cool metal marking one successful rep, ghost pats your thigh.

“Good job, make sure you’re breathing with each pull.” He instructs, his arms squish the fluff of your upper thighs. You nod, extending the length of your arms preparing for the next pull. Ghost is painfully aware of how your ass is pressed against his upper chest. His face is inches from the smooth damp skin of your back, his eyes track the small trickle of sweat that runs down your spine. He says a silent prayer, begging not to get hard in front of his subordinates. Even the slightest touch of your body drove him fucking mad, he’d been attracted to women before but never like this. Those thoughts were always intrusive and fleeting, he didn't let his mind wander too deeply but you…he imagined ripping those mauve pink leggings open and ramming every solid inch of his cock inside you. He hated how much control you had over him without even trying.

“I-I can’t take anymore” you groan, feeling the intense burning sensation growing in your arms.

Oh come on, he thinks. You couldn’t have chosen a better word choice, a shock shoots up his leg activating his dormant member. He nearly drops you as the mirror shows him a glimpse of his hard dick poking through his gray sweatpants. He couldn’t let you see him like this, before you could blink your feet were on the ground and ghost was B lining it to the men’s locker room.

“Hey wait where are you going?!” You call as he scurries away. He doesn’t turn around or even answer as he disappears into the white locker room door. Well that was rude, you think. You were used to him treating you like some kind of germ but this seemed off and you couldn’t put your finger on it.

~

There still hadn’t been any sign of Maya since earlier in the weight room, a sinking feeling pulls at your stomach. It wasn’t like her to just up and disappear without saying a word . The military base wasn’t the biggest in the world so there weren't many places she could have gone. Your eyes scan the mess hall landing on the table you two usually shared. Empty. No sign of her at all, you begin to worry what would keep her from eating lunch. Lunch is Maya’s favorite time of day apart from breakfast and dinner, this was strange. You look at the lunch line and physically cringe when you see that ominous brown paper bag with your name on it. It wouldn’t bother you one bit if you never saw another peanut butter and jelly ever again. You snake through the crowd and head toward the exit deciding to go search for her, it’s what she would have done for you. Just as you burst out of the sea of soldiers there is a deep voice bellowing down the long tan hallway.

“Y/n” a voice rumbles in the distance. Loud heavy footsteps shake the ground as König jogs in your direction.

“I didn’t see you in the mess hall, have you eaten already?” His words are rushed and nervous.

“No I haven’t, I was actually going to-“ he chimes in disregarding the rest of your sentence.

“That’s perfect! I wanted to invite you to have lunch with me.” His voice sounds energetic.

“Well I was just about to go look for Maya…” you trail looking around trying to spot her.

“Oh I saw her a few minutes ago when I was walking past the infirmary.” He says. The infirmary should have been the first place you looked, Maya did tons of overtime with Dr.Bradshaw. Extra hours counted as field work for her university grade, but overworking wasn’t always a good sign for her. You take a mental note to ask her later not wanting to disturb her study time with the Doctor. There was a nagging urge to ask König exactly what she was up to when he saw her but you decided not to snoop. If there was an issue she would come to you about it, you were always there for her and she knew that…or at least you hoped she did.

“Oh okay then I’ll just talk to her later thanks.” You spin on your heels ready to jog back to the cafeteria. A leather gloved hand entraps your wrist, holding you still. Your head whips around staring up into his forest green eyes, they dart back and forth searching your face.

“I’m sorry, I-I uh did you have plans for lunch today? If so I completely understand…I know you might still be worried about Maya.” His voice is shaky.

“No I don’t have plans for lunch, ugh I’m the one who should be sorry I almost blew you off just now. What kind of friend am I?” You joke. His chest tightens at the word friend, he drops your hand back to your side. It catches your attention but you breeze by it not wanting to cause any damage.

“I’d love to have lunch with you König.” You say enthusiastically trying to salvage the situation.

“Perfect. Let’s go, try to act normal.” He nods in the directions of the exit motioning you to follow his lead. You had a feeling this was going to be another mission impossible, König mixed with the words “act normal” never turned out good. Since the recent feud with ghost he was more rebellious than ever. You cautiously walk behind him trailing him out of the double doors, the sun beats down on your skin. Your eyes squint from the sudden lighting change, your hand lifts to shade your forehead blocking out the brightness. Las Almas Mexico was a beautiful mountainous place with endless desert views. There were small cities with an economy based on agriculture and farming. Like every major metropolitan region there are city areas for entertainment and tourism. The base was quite a distance from those areas, the deserts granted seclusion. Most of the drug activity and gang violence originated in the city areas. Although there were plenty of small gangs they all worked under the one major crime organization in the city…The Las Almas Cartel. The whole reason for your special forces deployment was to monitor and take down this organization. They participated in egregious crimes against the residents of Las Almas and helped push the drug epidemic throughout multiple countries. You walk forward,your shoulder brushes his arm ever so slightly. His eyes shift away with embarrassment, he hadn’t touched you since that night. People chirp hello’s as you slip through the ocean of workers, there were so many familiar happy faces in the crowd. You are grateful König is by your side or all the attention could have become overwhelming very quickly. It warmed your heart to be loved by so many but it became exhausting, always chasing approval from others.

König senses a shift in your mood, boldly, he rests his big hand on your lower back; ushering you along. He leads you to the vehicle repair and storage shed. There are lanes wall to wall filled with earth toned military vehicles ranging from Humvee’s to M113’s.

“Oh hey y/n! What are you doing all the way out here darlin’?” His southern twang is thick. The dimples in his cheeks deepen as he smiles toothy and big. His giant veiny hands stain the white cloth as he wipes away black sludge.

“Hey Jack, I hope we didn’t interrupt your work.”

“You could never bother me y/n seeing you is always a treat. Speaking of treats, where’s ol doll face Maya I haven’t gotten my daily fix of her.” He laughs. Jack was a flirt that was no secret but everyone knew about his unrequited love for Maya. Most people found her attractive but Jack’s feelings were public, making sure to scare off anyone who thought about making a move. They were just like an old married couple, arguing about any and everything.

“She’s working in the infirmary.” You explain.

“I’m gonna have to go and pay her a visit, she can’t run forever.” Wrinkles form at the corner of his eyes as he smiles ear to ear.

You can’t help but cheese at his friendly face. König didn’t appreciate Jack's lingering gaze. His eyes slit with annoyance, why were you smiling at him like that? He thinks burning with jealousy.

“I’m taking a Jeep on patrol.” He stated plainly.

“Sure thing, I’ll just need to see that authorization letter from the sergeant.” He says wiping the oil from his cheek.

“I am your Colonel. I grant myself authorization.” His arms fold over his chest as he stands tall and confident.

“But the sergeant said-“ Jack starts.

“Unless you want to be scrubbing toilets for a week I suggest you give me the keys. If not, I’ll just have to report you for interference with a mandatory patrol. Are we clear?” His voice is stern. You find yourself gawking at him. his power had you melting in his gloved palm. König didn’t like abusing his power but there was no way he’d go beg ghost to allow him to take you out. If he wanted you to himself he would make that happen at any cost. It didn’t matter who he had to step over as long as he got to be with you. Jack stares him down for a moment weighing out his options, he could either disobey Ghost and get punished or disobey König and get punished. Great choices he think’s sarcastically.

“Look, if you’re gonna take her out you gotta be back before sunset or else ghost is gonna be on my ass…deal?” He extends a hand to König.

“Deal.” He takes his hand firmly.

“Here I just did an oil change on her so she’s the best I’ve got right now. I’m still repair’n the others.” He tosses him a set of Keys with a dog tag attached. König nods, throwing his black duffel bag in the back seat. You never understood the idea of jeeps being doorless but as you hop in it makes a little more sense. If you’re being shot at you could literally jump right in. You chuckle at the ridiculous thought of you diving into a moving jeep.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, clicking his seat belt and cranking the ignition.

“Nothing, it's dumb.” You laugh tugging the seat belt over your chest. He chuckles backing out of the garage. His arm lays across the back of your headrest as he looks behind him making sure no one was there. Your thighs clench at his focused body language, how did he manage to turn you on with such mundane tasks. The car whips around, he straightens the wheel and puts the gear in drive.

An armed soldier from the gate walks up to the driver's side scoping out the inside of the car.

“Colonel. Where are you headed?” He salutes.

“Me and y/n will be holding a patrol unit on the mountain. There’s been reports of suspicious activity by the locals.” He lies smoothly. The mask came in handy since without it every emotion he felt would be on display. König is, unbenounced to everyone else,a terrible liar. His face gives him away every time. Despite what people think he could be read like a book if it wasn’t for the mask.

“Yes sir. Open the gate!” He calls.

König’s shoulders relax as the metal gates swing open. Mission accomplished. He finally had you to himself for a day. After spotting your workout with the sergeant; he had to find a way to steal your attention back. Your head leans out the door watching in awe as the ground gets further away. The mountain road is bumpy and narrow, your hand grips the seatbelt tightly.

“Scared of heights?” He asks, looking over at you with concern.

“Of course not, keep your eyes on the road.” You scold.

“You know it doesn’t help to look down.” He reaches over, tugging your chin away from the ground. His fingers linger for a second before returning to the wheel. You’d seen this view from the chopper when you first arrived on base but this is a new perspective and it is gorgeous. The cacti bloomed with tiny magenta flowers, the dry soil cracked into interesting shapes. Small animals poke their heads from the grooves in the ground,and Even the sky is clear and vast. If maps didn’t exist you’d have sworn the land stretched on forever. The heat is also comforting, the sun wraps you in a tight embrace kissing your skin. You wished you could see his face, you wondered if he was enamored with the scenery just as you are.

“It’s amazing isn’t it…like a whole new world.” He breathes looking around curiously. One hand gripped the wheel and the other pointed to a viper green snake in the distance.

“Did you see that?!” He exclaims excitedly.

“I did.” You say softly.

He coughs awkwardly, he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you but animals are his weakness. He felt an obligation to protect creatures smaller than him, what better way to use his gigantic size. After what felt like an eternity he pulls into an open area at the top of the mountain overlooking the base. He puts the car in park and takes the key from the ignition. You unbuckle your seatbelt, turning your body to hop down; König jogs around the vehicle blocking your path.

“Allow me.” He pretends to open an invisible door.

You jump down and punch his arm playfully. You both laugh filling the open air with joy. He admires you bent over laughing from your gut, a real laugh, that’s when you were most beautiful. He loved seeing happiness radiate from you, you wore it well. He wanted to make everyday a good day filled with bliss, he dreamed of one day being the one to make that a reality for you. He swings his duffel bag out with a huff walking over to a clear patch of land. With razor focus he unzips the bag unloading its contents onto the sandy ground. He lays a green blanket down before laying zip lock bags of mystery foods on to the cloth. To finish off the set up he sets up two colas on either side of the picnic blanket. It was one of the cutest things you’ve ever seen, he plops down in the blanket waving you over. You can’t help but smile at the exquisite dining arrangement designed by the renowned König.

“Beautiful set up chef.” You joke.

“On today’s menu we have the chefs’ choice…Ham and cheese sandwich. My secret ingredient is melted cheese courtesy of today’s weather. Strawberries, hand picked by me from the local farmers market. And two delicious warm cokes.” Your nose scrunches in disgust, earning a hearty laugh from the colonel. His laugh was like liquid gold, it rumbled deep, shaking your core. It’s a shame others didn’t get to witness this playful side of him.

“Sounds… yummy.” You say snagging a ham sandwich. You unzip the bag and have an experimental bite. To your surprise it’s not too bad, somehow the sun melted cheese worked. Not something you’d have regularly for a snack but the fact that König cooked it, made it taste better. You can’t imagine him moving around the kitchen, did he keep the mask on or take it off? You giggle at the image of him with an apron and mask on.

“You’re always giggling and I’m never a part of the joke.” He pouts.

“I was just imagining you cooking in a cute little apron. Would you keep the mask on or take it off.” You tease.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He slips his sandwich under the hem of his mask, taking a bite. At this angle the sunlight glows behind you like a halo. König admires how angelic you are, he didn’t understand how someone could look so perfect. There wasn’t a word in any language that could describe your beauty, inside and out you were radiant. A rose blush sweeps his face, he looks away realizing how long he’s been staring. Butterflies flutter in your stomach.You turn away relocating your attention to the incredible view. At this height the wind whips strongly , blowing a cool breeze through the air. You close your eyes tilting your face to the sky, his eyes trail down your neck peering at the steady thump of your vein. He remembers the way you look with your pulse beating out of control;lustful eye low eyes staring back at him. That night you took a piece of him with you, he has never been so needy for a woman in his life. In a metaphorical sense you were a succubus and he would gladly give up his soul.

“God you’re gorgeous.” He breathes. Your eyes widen as you stammer for words nervously.

“W-what, you can’t just say that out of nowhere.” You stutter.

“Should I give you a warning next time?” He flirts.

“You’re always messing with me.” You slap his hand. He smirks loving how you crumble for him. He reaches over to grab the bag of fresh strawberries, his palm brushes the base of your thigh. He slides a berry under his mask, making a sound of approval.

“Mmm. These are really good. Try it.” He plucks a strawberry from the bag, holding it up to your lips.

You’re hesitant for a while looking at the berry in disbelief, he couldn’t be serious. This is definitely not something friends do but you do have a habit of overthinking things. Maybe this is one of those things, it’s just a strawberry, nothing less, and nothing more. You nod coyly, leaning in and wrapping your plump lips around the fruit as your teeth sink in; taking a small bite. His jaw tenses as he fights back the urge to lick the sticky juices from your mouth. With his free hand he lifts his mask, exposing the lower portion of his face. There is an intensity behind his eyes as he slides the rest of your half eaten berry past his blushed lips.

“You’re right, these are…really…good.” You trail as he closes the distance between you.

“Here, have some more then.” He bites another one. His giant hand rests at the back of your neck pulling you closer inch by inch. All thoughts evacuate your mind as his soft breath brushes your lips. He’s so close you can almost taste him. So achingly close that it makes your heart leap right out of your chest. Why was he doing this to you, making you yearn to feel him again. Reminding you of the mind bending orgasms he gave you that night. It wasn’t fair, how could you be friends when he is so irresistible? You can’t. You shouldn’t. You won’t. He brushes his soft warm lips over yours begging for permission, pleading for just one kiss. You did. You’re caught in his net as your lips meld desperately in a symphony of passion. His tongue spreads the strawberry nectar across your taste buds making the kiss intoxicatingly sweet. He shifts onto his knees towering over you, never breaking the kiss. He leans down deepening it, gripping the curve of your hips; a camo clad knee forces through the barrier of your thighs. It’s feverish and greedy, he kisses you like he’ll never get the chance to again. Your back arches into his touch, a loud moan echoes through the mountain as he teases your pulsing clit. The friction was unbearable, it felt good but it wasn’t enough. You wanted, no, needed more. Your pussy quivers as he breaks the kiss to nip at the sensitive skin of your neck.

“W-we can’t. Friends don’t uhn-friends can’t do this.”You pant.

“I want to please you. I didn’t get to show you all of my tricks last time.” He whispers seductively. He pushes you back onto your elbows, clearing the picnic blanket in one swoop of his hand. You stare down at him, your breathing is erratic wondering what his next move will be. Strong calloused fingers work the complicated buckle of your work pants. Soon your pants are not only unbuckled but being slid down the length of your legs. Your chunky black combat boots prevented them from going any further so naturally he removed those too; leaving you completely exposed from the waist down. You couldn’t believe you were letting this happen and in a desert nonetheless. König wastes no time grasping your hips and lifting your pelvis, leveling your pussy with his eager mouth. Your shoulders and head rest on the blanket while your lower half is suspended upward; legs dangling on his hunched shoulders. Even with him leaning over, your ass is still elevated at a staggering height. You’re completely at his mercy, no matter how much you squirm his grip is iron tight. The black fabric of his mask sits on the plush of your mound hiding his face as he kisses your warm lower lips. You couldn’t see anything from this angle and the mask added even more security to his next action. You watch the clouds move up above as he traces the glazed slit of your entrance, your hips buck in response. A quiet whimper vibrates your skin as he tastes you for the first time, the scent of your arousal fills the limited space in his mask. Every breath he took was filled with you, that one lick already had his dick frustratingly hard and throbbing.

“Du schmeckst so verdammt fantastisch (you taste so fucking amazing)” he mumbles into your heat. It’s impossible to hold back any more, his tongue slithers up and down the slippery split of your cunt. The tip of his tongue draws circles around your stiff clit, he nips and sucks at the bundle of nerves making your legs shake. His hands sink into your thighs as he pushes deeper into your delectable pussy. The thick flat of his tongue laps at your labia teasing the wet folds of your outer sex. Your muscles contract as he explores every crevice of your dewy flower, your juices dribble down his chin as he teases the perimeter of your tight hole. You grind up into his face wanting him to go further tasting the deepest parts of your sweetness. His hands release your thighs leaving the heavy lifting to your core strength. Your body shakes as you fight to stay in this position not wanting the pleasure to end.

“That’s it, you're doing so good Schatz(love) you’re going to have to put in some work to cum.” He breathes. His hands tug at your shirt fighting to push it up past your breast. You decide to help him out, lifting your shirt and black bra in one motion; your nipples are stiff with arousal. He rolls your hard peaks between his fingers, teasing and caressing the sensitive buds. Your mouth falls slack as his tongue eases into you, your walls clench as he strokes your inner velvet. A sloshing wet sound fills the air as he fucks your cunt with his long skillful tongue. Your hands fist the blanket as you become overwhelmed by all the sensations. How could something wrong feel so good.

“No no no you can’t cum yet, I am still enjoying my meal.” He reprimands. You bite your lip and stare up at him with pleading teary eyes.

“P-please let me cum, s’to much c-can’t hold it please.” You cry.

“Look at me Prinzessin. Focus on me. Just like that, I’m so proud of you. Don’t give up beautiful. You're taking it so well.” He praises, locking eyes with you. He feels your pussy flutter on his tongue as you fight the urge to drench his face. He sucks your clit into his mouth gently, with a final pull sending you tumbling over the edge.

“I’m g-gonna cum, need to cum fuck-“

Your spent cunt spurts delicious cream all over Königs face, drenching his mask.

“Look at the mess you made. Naughty girl.” He eases your body back to the ground, licking his lips. You lie there twitching, unable to form a coherent sentence.

~

“Suns going down. We’d better start heading back to base.” He says in a disappointed tone. He wished this day could last forever but that wasn’t realistic. The last thing he wanted to deal with was ghost pulling rank on him again. You nod helping him pack his duffel bag, he smiles as your hands brush when reaching for the same items.

“I had so much fun with you today.” You chat loading the leftover snacks into the bag.

“Me too. We should come back here soon, I’ll pack better lunches next time.” He promises, throwing the bag over his shoulder.

“Everything was perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing.” You assure, swallowing back the feelings of regret. What did this mean moving forward, did you make the mistake of leading him on again? König catches a glimpse of doubt on your face and speaks up.

“Today…never happened. We hung out, as friends.” He pats your head. You smile up at him appreciating his kindness and understanding, he knew you never meant to hurt him. Today was all on him, he took that step knowing what it meant and he’d do it again. He knows you need time to figure things out and he was done being impatient. He is sure about his feelings for you and is willing to wait as long as it takes.

“Let’s go.” He taps your butt as he walks by. You gasp smacking his back in return,trailing behind him to the jeep. He tosses the duffle bag in the back seat, walking around to help you into the car.

You stop in your tracks peering up into his beautiful lush green eyes, his heart thumps rapidly.

“Did you forget something?” He asks.

“No. You’re just…incredible you know that.”

“Y/n I-Get down!” He leaps forward shielding your body as you two tumble to the ground in a panic.

“Ah! Scheisse! I’ve been hit.” He groans, squeezing the oozing gunshot wound. A ringing sounds in your ears from the blast, everything moves in slow motion as you help him limp to the Jeep.

“A fucking sniper. We have to move! Now! Drive” he instructs baring down his teeth, holding back a scream. His leg is on fire, blood spurts between his fingers as he applies pressure. The gas pedal is touching the floor as you push the vehicle as fast as it’ll go. Your fist beats down on the horn trying to alert the front gate you’re coming in hot. one hand swerves the wheel frantically twisting and turning and the other is on Königs head holding him close as you quick fire words of affirmation.

“It’s gonna be okay, please stay with me. Hang on alittle longer. König? König?! Fuck!” You sob whipping the wheel back and forth making it harder for the snipe to aim. His consciousness begins to fade from the excessive blood loss; the once cream flooring of the Jeep is now a cherry red. His hand goes limp as he faints no longer applying pressure to the wound. He’s fading fast.

“No no no wake up. I know you’re sleepy but stay with me please please König we’re almost there.” Tears stream down your face as you beat down on the horn. The gate is a few feet away, the soldier on guard sees you approaching at 150 miles an hour. He sounds the alarm, triggering the gate to open up slowly. You can’t let up on the speed it’s too late, you have to push it. Any further delay could cost him his life, you slam your foot to the floor giving it all you’ve got. A loud crack slices through the air as you burst through the half opened gate, taking the side view mirrors off in the process. Both feet hit the brakes forcing you to a violent stop. You jump out, yelling for back up.

“Please help me, he's hit! The colonel has been shot! Please he isn’t responding help me!” You scream, wrapping your hands around his calf trying to stop the bleeding.

“Y/n! What happened?!” Maya runs up taking off her shirt to use as a makeshift tourniquet.

“They shot him.” You hyperventilate.

“Who shot him?! Get him to the operating room now!” She barks at the nearby soldiers.

“I-I don’t know…” you sob watching the men carry him away.

To be continued?…

#smut #smut x reader #fluff #smut fanfiction #fanfic #ghost cod #könig mw2 #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley #mw2 ghost #konig smut #könig x y/n #könig smut #könig x you #ghost smut #ghost x reader #könig #könig fluff #ghost fluff #cod smut #mw2 fanfic #mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #könig cod #könig x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost x y/n #könig call of duty #mw2 oc #simon ghost x reader

[rainybubbles]

How do you meet COD men ?

Price, Soap, Rudy, Ghost, Gaz, Keegan

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC. )

P R I C E :

-"I'm going to die," you say to your friend.

-"What ? Why would you die ?"

-"I sent a pregnant Shrek cake to a military base."

-"Why would you do that ?!"

-"This guy ordered a cake for his soldier's birthday, but I also had the order for a prank and...

-"You mixed up the two boxes."

-"Yes."

-"So, actually,....a soldier is opening his box and..."

-"And he will see a pregnant Shrek cake."

-"...It was good to know you when you were alive."

-"You're supposed to reassure me !"

-"Oh sorry. You will die fast, don't worry. It's their job"

-"Fuck you."

-"How was the guy who ordered ?"

-"Like he could crash my head between his arms"

-"Shit."

-"But he was handsome, I guess."

-"Guess your last view will be nice, at least."

-"Shit, how do I even excuse myself for that ? I can't go to the base and say "sorry I sent a Shrek cake, but it was a mistake can you let me in ?"

-"I guess you just say it," a man says.

-You gulp when you recognize the Captain who ordered you the cake.

-"Sir, I'm so sorry, I swear it's not on purpose, I just mixed two orders and..."

-"And you made my boys laugh after a rough mission."

-"oh."

-"So thanks. Of course, it was not what I planned for a birthday, but seeing them happy was nice."

-"You're..welcome, I guess ?"

-He smiles.

-"But don't ever do another pregnant Shrek when I order from you, next time, please."

-"Next time ?"you say surprised.

-"It was delicious, I don't plan to change a good baker," he smiles.

And that's how you gain a regular after offering a pregnant Shrek cake. (even though each time he sees green on your hand, he seems scared when he takes the box.)

S O A P :

- He drew you like Gollum.

- I know, it sounds horrible, let me explain.

- You needed money, and you offered your services as a model for art classes.

- Soap was one of the students.

- During his leaves, he often took art classes to relax.

- And usually it goes well.

- But when he saw you....he thought he could never do justice to your face.

- He felt so self-conscious about his skills that he ended up doing a horrible portrait of you.

- And it could have ended up here, but the teacher decided to show everyone's pieces of art to analyze them

- So you saw Soap's piece where you looked like Gollum.

- And you knew it was from him.

- Everyone has a smile, while he was terrified.

- Usually, he's self-confident, but it's on the battlefield, in his life. The art was the only place where he was not sure he belonged too.

- At the end of the classes, he decided to talk to you.

- "I'm sorry for what happened today, I felt anxious and I ended up doing a bad portrait. It doesn't look like you at all."

- You looked up at him and smiled.

- "Why do you apologize? It was fun to see me like this, plus you need to start somewhere, no? You can't be a fucking Leonardo Da Vinci from the first day."

- He was too stunned to speak.

- "John or Johnny," he said.

- You looked at him confused.

- "Name's John, sorry, it seems you really blew my mind."

- You chuckled. "Nice to meet you, John. Hope next time your mind will be more confused for the next class."

- He nodded.

- Wait, did you say the next class? But it was nude models…

- Hope he won't draw a stick figure this time.

R U D Y

- You were an author.

- Well, it was not your main job since you only sold four books this year, but you considered yourself an author.

- And you had a hater. Someone who left a hateful review on each of your books.

- You knew that the next day after publishing your book, he would leave a bad review.

- So when your boss at the library told you that someone was regularly buying your books, you knew it could only be this hater, since the other person who bought your books was your mom.

- And you had had a bad day. So when your boss told you he was there, you were about to confront this hater.

- Maybe to understand what he didn't like or to know if he was just a coward.

- So you strode towards the spot your boss pointed at.

- "Hey, you," you said, not sure what to add after. When the man raised his head, he looked fit, and you knew you couldn't stand a chance in a fight if he decided to fight.

- "Wait, are you the author Y/N?" Rudy asked, with a sparkle in his eyes.

- Wait... A sparkle?

- "Hm, yeah, it's me," you answered, not sure what was happening.

- "I love your work. Your last book was really amazing. I have followed you since your debut."

- Your mouth was open, because :

1. one, your mom had lied to you when she told you she had bought three copies of your book.

2. And second, you had your first fan in front of you.

- "Thanks," you almost said, tears of joy welling up. "Sorry if I sound harsh. I thought you were that hater."

- "Oh yeah, I saw those reviews on your page. He's always there, but don't worry, I'll leave positive reviews to balance it. I'm Rudy, by the way."

- "Nice to meet you, and thanks for loving my work."

- "No need to thank me. I just appreciate good books."

- "What's your favorite, if I may ask?"

- Rudy smiled, and you both started chatting about books that afternoon. Maybe your reviews would improve after this, not just because of your writing, but also because he found you stunning.

G H O S T :

- Ghost scared people on the battlefield.

- However, the people who were most scared of him were the mechanics on the base.

- Ghost was a horrible driver, and everyone knew that.

- So, each time he went to the mechanics, they knew it was because he had done horrible damage to the cars.

- A game was organized whenever Ghost approached – you played rock, paper, scissors, and the loser had to fix his car.

- However, you were new to the base.

- When you saw this guy standing and waiting, you went to him without realizing all this.

- But when you saw his car, you understood why no one else was coming.

- He had a bowling ball in the trunk, the roof was broken, all the windows were shattered, and one tire was burnt.

- "...did you take this on the battlefield?" you asked.

- "No." He said shortly.

- You blinked. "Then why is it in this condition?"

- "There was a grandma on the road."

- "...so, because of a grandma, you have a bowling ball in your trunk?"

- "Because I swerved to avoid her and ended up hitting a bowling alley."

- "How did you even get a driver's license?"

- "The examiner was too sick to see me again for the ninth time, so he just gave it to me."

- "I guess I'll fix your car, but please don't drive if you don't need to, sir."

- "Sure."

- The next day, he was there again with a hole in the car because of a bird. How ? You didn't know.

-But it seemed you had become his official mechanic without even knowing it.

G A Z :

- When he hears your voice in a café, he recognizes you.

- The problem is, he can't come to you.

- Because if he knows your voice, it's because of your streams.

- Your ASMR streams.

- Being a soldier means your sleep schedule isn't really regular, and to help himself sleep, Gaz discovered ASMR.

- He found out about your streams, then your Patreon, and... let's just say your ASMR is spicy.

- So yes, if he says he's a fan of yours, it implies he has to reveal he listens to that in front of his teammates.

- And he's not ashamed of it.

- But he doesn't want Price to know he likes spicy ASMR, just like he wouldn't want to know what Price's fantasies are, or what Ghost likes in bed.

- (He wants to forget Soap's idea about Ghost in pink lingerie and a thong, and the day Price wore latex pants.)

- It's a line he doesn't want to cross.

- But he's also your biggest fan.

- So he tries to walk near you.

- But you're with a friend.

- And he doesn't know if your friend knows about this.

- So he ends up just glancing at you.

- Shit, how does he approach someone who does +18 things, without saying he knows they do this?

- Maybe if he waves... or just says hello? Or maybe if he asks for a selfie or…

- "Are you trying to imitate Ghost?" Soap asks.

- "What? No. Why do you say that?!" Gaz says, looking away.

- "Because you're staring at this person like they killed your dad and ate your mom, then burned your house and kidnapped your dog."

- "...it was really detailed for a scenario," Gaz says, confused.

- "So?"

- "I just know them, but I don't want to disturb them." Gaz says, trying to lie and tell the truth at the same time.

- If Soap finds out the truth, he'll never hear the end of it.

- "Do you want me to call them?"

- "NO. Absolutely not, don't do this, mate."

- "Why not?"

- Because they'll think you listen to their spicy ASMR audios, he wants to say, but he remains quiet.

- God, he feels like a teenager.

- But suddenly, he sees you walking towards them.

- You sit next to them, and... you wink at him, pointing to his key ring on his bag.

- It's your merch.

- Meaning... you know he's a fan.

- "Thanks for supporting me," you whisper before returning to your friend.

- Gaz doesn't speak until he gets back to base, too embarrassed but also too happy.

K E E G A N :

- You were tired.

- The rush had finally ended. It was now 11 PM, and there was this one client who had just ordered 10 Happy Meals.

- You wanted to slap him. He had ordered at 22:57, and the fast food closed at 23:00.

- So you didn't have a choice but to serve him.

- You looked at your colleague, who was sighing, and you nodded.

- You were preparing the trays, ready to see 10 kids running around and getting everything dirty, but…

- It was only one man with a mask.

- When you saw him, you were ready to raise your hands and give him money. Why the heck would a man with a gun and a mask be at a McDonald's at 23:00 buying 10 Happy Meals?

- But he just took them and ate.

- One after another.

- In silence.

- In five minutes.

- And then he left.

- You looked at your colleague.

- "Guess it's as weird as people who order a burger without buns," your colleague said.

- You nodded and thought it was just the one weird client of the day.

- But every Wednesday, he was there, in silence.

- Maybe he hated Ronald McDonald, so he planned to run out of your stock of Happy Meals?

- Or maybe he collected the toys?

- You didn't know, but he was there.

- And you saw him eating those nuggets and fries without sauce.

- He didn't touch his drinks. My, how dry it must be.

- But one Wednesday you took a day off. So when you came back the next day, you joked with your colleague about the Happy Meal guy.

- But they didn't laugh.

- "Who?" they asked.

- And just like that, you realized that when you weren't there, the Happy Meal guy wasn't there either.

- You were scared.

- Maybe he thought buying Happy Meals seduced you, or it was his way of warning you before he would kill you, like a threat, "You'll end up like those nuggets."

- So, when you saw him enter, you sent your colleague.

- However, your manager decided to give you your break at that moment, meaning it would be only you and him in the place.

- You tried to act normally, but you noticed how he seemed not to like his food yet still ate it.

- You sighed and sat next to him, offering him some sauces.

- "It's better with these. You know, you can have them for free in the menu next time."

- He looked at you and nodded.

- He then tried it and smiled.

- That's when you noticed his dog tags.

- "We have a discount for military personnel, so you could take a real meal instead of a Happy Meal if you want to."

- He looked surprised and nodded.

- Next time, he ordered 2 Happy Meals and two regular menus.

- So you smiled.

- Until his other masked colleagues ordered 20 Happy Meals because they liked the skull toys in them.

- Maybe it was just military men who had a problem with Happy Meals.

If you want more : my COD masterlist

And my masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #rudy parra x reader #rudy x reader #soap x reader #captain price x reader

[captainfern]

Heyyyy Captain.... Gaz + Price x reader combo? 😏

I can take them (not in a fight)

2 Man Show

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x fem!reader x Captain John Price

["2 Man Show" by Timbaland]

[18+]

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• summary - your boyfriend gaz decides to share you with his captain lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 2.9k • warnings - fem!reader, established relationship (with gaz), threesome, protected piv, anal, orgasm denial like once, implied sub!reader, implied dom!gaz, possessive!gaz, praise, degradation, strong language

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It came to Gaz in a dream, really. The thought of sharing you, his beautiful girlfriend, with his captain was enough for him to startle awake with his cock throbbing within his boxers. Guiltily, he spared a look at your sleeping form beside him. God, what was he thinking?

He told you, of course. You were his girlfriend, and he loved and trusted you more than anything. And, well, he expected you to be weirded out, and probably scold him for even suggesting it.

He didn't expect you to think it was a good idea.

You all but dared him to tell Captain Price– Gaz was so nervous, he had no idea why he was going through with it. But, over a few drinks one night, he let the idea slip from his lips and waited with a grimace for Price's verdict, the older man cocking his head to the side in confusion.

"You want to share your girlfriend?" Price has asked, circling his finger around the rim of his whiskey glass.

"For a night," Gaz had replied. "Nothing more than that. She's still mine, captain."

Price hummed, a twinkle in his eye. "Right..."

It turned into more than just one night, actually.

Initial contact was timid– after Price agreed, the three of you spent a few days over the next week just getting comfortable with one another. Even more, Gaz made sure Price was kept in line. Usually it was the other way around on the battlefield, but this time, Gaz ensured Price followed his rules, and that you were comfortable the entire time.

Then came the day you were really fucked. Like, really. No talking or discussing of likes or dislikes. No experimental strokes of fingers or shy massages of hands. No stroking or sucking Price or your boyfriend's cock to make up for the painful hard-ons you gave them while they mapped your body with their eyes.

No, you were really fucked. In a good way, too.

You knew it was going to be in a good way when Gaz tossed Price a condom as you lay on the bed, your slick running down your thighs with Price's head between them. Gaz had been spending the last five or so minutes groping at your tits. The condom hit Price in the head, and he grunted, pulling away from you, his lower face glistening.

"What's this for?" Price grunted, picking up the foil packet with disgust, as though it was already used.

Gaz sneered, pulling you up the bed until you were sitting in his lap. He kissed down your neck, his hands travelling from your tits to your hips, then splitting off– one hand dipping down to your cunt, and the other smoothing down your backside.

"You're not fucking her without a condom," Gaz told him, his fingers finding the shiny pink plug that was sitting inside you, drumming against it. You whined, the feeling of it vibrating inside you making your core clench around nothing. His other hand pushed a finger against your puffy clit, pressing lightly. He kissed your neck again, and then threw another glance at Price. "You want her cunt, yeah? Then put it on."

Price smiled, as though surprised. Gaz's tone was stern.

"I'm clean," Price said, already pulling his cock out of his boxers and ridding himself of them. He fisted his cock, hard and curving slightly towards his abdomen, where a trail of dark hair dipped from navel to the base of his cock. "If that's what you're worried about. I'd never–"

"That's not what I'm worried about," Gaz interrupted, finger circling your clit. You mewled softly against him, feeling the stickiness of your arousal sticking from your bare thighs to his. With his other hand, Gaz was still pressing at the plug in your arse, gently tugging and pushing. You shuddered, and he smiled into your neck, eyes on Price. "We have a deal. You don't come inside her, remember? The only one who gets to come in this pretty pussy is me."

You cried out as he pinched your clit, the sensation throbbing through your entire core. Tears blurred your vision as his finger sped up, and his other fingers curled around the plug and began to pull– slowly, almost too slowly.

Price scoffed. "So you expect me to–?"

"Put the fucking condom on or I'll fill her cunt and arse with my cum and make you lick up the mess." Gaz seethed, biting down on your neck and sucking as he circled your clit and finally pulled the plug the rest of the way out. You moaned, feeling the lube leak out of you and onto his lap, the feeling enough to draw goosebumps along your bare skin.

"Careful." Price growled, and shuffled up the bed. He situated himself in front of you, eyes on where your legs were spread and Gaz was playing with your clit. He licked his lips, still tasting you there.

When you were just about to fall over the edge of bliss, Price's burning gaze on you, Gaz removed his fingers. You whined, your clit throbbing painfully, your arousal dripping down your spread thighs. You dropped your head back onto Gaz's shoulder as he tossed the plug to the side and proceeded to line his cock up with your arsehole. You whined again when you felt the blunt head of him smear through the lube between your arsecheeks.

Price ripped the condom open with his teeth, spitting the torn material away before rolling the condom down his cock. He did it with a slight frown, a low dip in his brow that made him all the hotter– to you, anyway. Gaz clearly didn't like his captain's expression.

"You should be grateful you're even getting to fuck this pretty pussy at all, captain," Gaz said as he massaged your hip with one hand, the other still holding the base of his cock as he pressed his tip against you. "You're lucky I'm even sharing."

You let out a low hum when Price shuffled even further towards you, his chest now right against yours. He gently took hold of your jaw and angled your face to his, pressing his mouth to yours and shoving his tongue inside. You moaned, your hands finding his shoulders and pulling him closer, your tongue meeting his. You could faintly feel Gaz's lips skimming across your shoulder.

"Yeah, I am lucky, aren't I?" Price mumbled against your lips as he dragged the head of his cock through your slick folds. You moaned into his mouth, and he caught it with his tongue, pressing it against yours and kissing you deeply again. He rutted his cock between your legs, smearing the length with your arousal, nudging the tip back up against your swollen clit. When he moved out of the kiss, he smiled down at you. "Aren't I lucky, sweetheart?"

He squeezed your jaw. You nodded, lips parted but no words escaping. He chuckled lowly, and Gaz did too. The men exchanged a glance with one another before looking back at you– eyes hungry, desperate. You looked a picture, didn't you? So pretty. So good for them.

You had one cock running along the wet folds of your cunt, and another pressing at the wet rim of muscle of your arse. It was nearly sensory overload, especially with their eyes on you and Price's hand on your face, and Gaz's on your hip.

"Feel so good that you can't even speak, hm?" Gaz muttered into your ear, pressing a kiss to the lobe. "Haven't even taken our cocks yet and you've gone all dumb?"

Price rumbled out a breathy chuckle. "Good little slut, already so fucking wet, too. Can feel how wet you are, sweetheart."

The tip of his cock prodded at your dripping cunt, and he shifted his hips upwards, slowly pushing himself inside. Gaz mimicked his captain's actions with his mouth to your neck, mumbling against the skin as he slowly inched his cock into your arsehole.

You cried out, breathless as the air was knocked from your lungs, your lower half essentially being split open in two different directions. One of your hands grabbed at Price's shoulder in an attempt to stabilise yourself, while your other hand moved to the side to grab Gaz's. Gaz linked his fingers with yours as he bottomed out and you released another low-pitched moan.

Price groaned, head falling forward and his forehead pressing to yours once his cock was nestled inside you, your slick walls clutching him tightly, his tip brushing up against the opening of your cervix.

"Fuck, you feel so fucking good," he breathed, leaning down to drag his lips over yours. It wasn't really a kiss, since the two of you simply swapped a bit of spit in a mess of tongue and teeth, but when he pulled away, you were panting. He hummed, eyes roaming down your body. "And god, you're gorgeous. Taking me so well, aren't you?"

Behind you, Gaz snapped his hips and thrusted his cock deeper. It caught you by surprise, your eyes widening and back arching against him. You moaned loudly, followed by a whimper of his name, your head rolling back to rest on his shoulder.

Gaz smiled. "Taking us so well, baby. M'gonna move now, is that okay? You think you can handle it?"

You were nodding, eyes closed, focused on the feel of both your holes being stretched open.

You heard Gaz chuckle, and maybe Price did too– you weren't totally sure. But, it took mere seconds before both men were dragging their cocks out of you, and then pushing back in at the same time.

You mewled out, again and again, as they set a pace that worked for them. In and out, in and out, over and over again and forcing a constant stream of moans, whimpers and whines from your lips. Your mind was spinning, hazy as Price's cock hit the plug of your womb, your legs trembling where they were spread. Your eyes were rolling, eyelids fluttering as Gaz bucked up into you, the warmth of his chest against your back comforting.

The two men were making noise, too. Your boyfriend usually did– he wanted you to know how good you made him feel, and he wasn't shy about it. This time, even with his captain present, he wasn't timid.

Gaz moaned and stuttered into the sweat-slick skin of your neck, puffing hard each time his hips slapped against your arse, and his cock reached in as far as it could go. He whispered your name, a string of whimpers, warm in your ear. He praised you, too, making your clit throb in time with the racing of your heart. "That's a good girl, baby, fuck. You're doing so well, taking me so well. Hm? You like having two cocks stretch you open? Yeah? You like me and the captain filling these tight little holes? Of course you do, baby, 'cause you're such a good girl, aren't you? Making me so proud."

You didn't know what to expect with Price. You assumed he'd be the grunting and groaning type which, well, you weren't wrong. But, he talked to you too. A mix of degradation and praise that matched his rank perfectly and made your mind go blank.

Price groaned and grunted, one large hand still on your hip, pulling you back down onto his cock with his other hand groping up and down your side. His fat cock stretched your cunt open, arousal leaking around it and onto the sheets below. His tip hit your g-spot again and again, making your lower belly fizzle with an oncoming orgasm. When Gaz wasn't whispering to you, Price was, his words were sending you into a spin. "Look at how this tight cunt takes my cock, eh, sweetheart? Such a good fucking whore for my cock. Yeah, fucking hell, that's it, take it, take it. F-fuck, so fucking tight."

You moaned out both of their names in a sobbed symphony, matching the tempo of their thrusts– skin slapping, bed creaking– and their grunts and whispers. Your orgasm brewed in the pit of your tummy, and your legs were beginning to tremble, your lower spine building a layer of sweat.

God, what number was this? You had basically lost count. You'd come the first time when Gaz had his mouth on your cunt, his fingers in your arse and Price's hands around your tits. You'd come the second time when Gaz pushed the pretty pink plug into you and Price had his fingers swiping against your clit. You'd come a third time grinding yourself against the bulge in Gaz's boxers while sucking Price's cock. Or, hold on, maybe you came twice? Then you came again with Price's mouth on you, tongue stuffed inside your sopping hole, overstimulated clit swollen and slick. Or did you come twice there too?

It didn't matter, because your next one was about to hit like a fucking freight train, and you couldn't do anything about it. Not when you were sandwiched between two men as they stuffed you full of their cocks.

You felt so full, both cocks a bulging presence in your lower body, creating tremors in your legs and a heartbeat in your clit. Your mind swam, vision blurring at the edges as you clutched onto them, breathing hard. Your orgasm was building hard.

"Gaz..." You breathed, calling out to him first, your fingers squeezing around his. He dragged his nose up your neck and then placed kisses down your jaw. You moaned, and then followed up with a whimpered, "Price." Price put both hands on your hips, squeezing gently, rubbing circles along the dips.

Gaz was one octave off whimpering in your ear, his moans drawing into a higher pitch. He was close. You wondered if he'd beg to come like he does when in a particularly subby mood, as you often joked. He didn't find the joke funny when the post-nut clarity hit. It often ended up with you bent over some piece of furniture somewhere in the house to show you that he was not, in fact, in a subby mood.

"Holy shit, I'm close," Gaz said, his thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm, turning sloppy. "You gonna come, baby?"

"Mhm..." You couldn't answer with words. But you didn't need to. Your body reacted, tightening around the both of them as your orgasm grew tight, and then, with a desperate sob of both their names, it snapped.

You came hard, your clit pulsing and your cunt spasming around Price's cock. You felt yourself gush around him, warm liquid dribbling out of you as he fucked you through your orgasm, droplets running down the curves of your thighs. Price groaned, mouth dropping open, feeling the way your cunt milked his cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Price hissed, thrusts speeding up as he chased his own high. You whimpered, holding onto his shoulder tighter as he bounced you back onto his and Gaz's cocks, your body lax and sweat-slick, shining in the soft overhead light.

"Good girl, good girl, I love you," Gaz chanted through a moan, before he was attaching his mouth to your shoulder and biting gently. He came inside you with a groan, and you felt his cum fill you– the strange, but warm sensation making you whimper. He licked over the indents of his teeth on your skin. "Good girl, baby."

He left his cock inside you as Price continued his movements, thrusting up into your slick cunt with grunts of your name falling from his lips. His head dropped, his mouth opened, and he snapped his hips one last time until he was buried to the hilt inside you, coming into the condom. Unlike Gaz, Price pulled out straight away, pulling off and then tying the condom before tossing it into the bin in the corner of the room. But, he was back to the bed in an instant when Gaz was lying you down and slowly pulling out. He disappeared into the bathroom for just a moment.

Gaz's cum seeped out of you. Price hummed as he watched it, and then proceeded to drag two fingers through it before pushing them gently into your arsehole. You whimpered and he shushed you, kissing your face as he plugged you full of your boyfriend's cum.

"You alright?" He whispered as Gaz returned with a damp cloth and began carefully dabbing it against your thoroughly abused holes. You grimaced with overstimulation.

"I'm alright, yeah." You breathed, and allowed the captain to wrap his arms around you. He placed a kiss to the top of your head, a content hum rumbling in his chest.

After Gaz had cleaned you up, he slotted himself behind you and wrapped his arms around your body, pushing Price's away. You smiled to yourself as Price huffed and Gaz pinned your body to his, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

"Get your own girlfriend." Gaz quipped, curling your body against his as Price lay on your other side.

"But I like your girlfriend."

"Too bad."

"I thought you said you were willing to share?" Price countered, and you were laughing now at their immaturity.

Gaz just grumbled something into your neck. Price just shook his head with a rueful smile.

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this is the first time i've written protected piv on this page

ik i'm as disgusted as you are smh

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #captain john price #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #captain price #cod smut #cod gaz #cod price #fem reader #captain price smut #gaz smut

[shakespearesdaughters]

“I will love you as a thief loves a gallery and as a crow loves a murder, as a cloud loves bats and as a range loves braes. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong. I will love you as a battlefield loves young men and as peppermints love your allergies, and I will love you as the banana peel loves the shoe of a man who was just struck by a shingle falling off a house. I will love you as a volunteer fire department loves rushing into burning buildings and as burning buildings love to chase them back out, and as a parachute loves to leave a blimp and as a blimp operator loves to chase after it.

I will love you as a dagger loves a certain person’s back, and as a certain person loves to wear dagger proof tunics, and as a dagger proof tunic loves to go to a certain dry cleaning facility, and how a certain employee of a dry cleaning facility loves to stay up late with a pair of binoculars, watching a dagger factory for hours in the hopes of catching a burglar, and as a burglar loves sneaking up behind people with binoculars, suddenly realizing that she has left her dagger at home.

I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as the noise of glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping into the world. I will love you until all the codes and hearts have been broken and until every anagram and egg has been unscrambled. I will love you until every fire is extinguised and until every home is rebuilt from the handsomest and most susceptible of woods, and until every criminal is handcuffed by the laziest of policemen. I will love until M. hates snakes and J. hates grammar, and I will love you until C. realizes S. is not worthy of his love and N. realizes he is not worthy of the V. I will love you until the bird hates a nest and the worm hates an apple, and until the apple hates a tree and the tree hates a nest, and until a bird hates a tree and an apple hates a nest, although honestly I cannot imagine that last occurrence no matter how hard I try.

I will love you as we grow older, which has just happened, and has happened again, and happened several days ago, continuously, and then several years before that, and will continue to happen as the spinning hands of every clock and the flipping pages of every calendar mark the passage of time, except for the clocks that people have forgotten to wind and the calendars that people have forgotten to place in a highly visible area. I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where we once we were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively.

I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from slim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don’t see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and now matter how I am discovered after what happens to me as I am discovering this.” ― Lemony Snicket

#dark academia #darkacademia #light academia #moodboard #light acadamia aesthetic #light academia moodboard #romantic academia #art academia #soft academia #dark academia art #chaotic academia #dark academia books #dark academia moodboard #books & libraries #boooks #books and coffee #coffee #literally #light academia aesthetic #dark academia aesthetic #classic academia #dark academia vibes #academia #studyblr #aesthetic #literature academia #source: pinterest #pinterest moodboard #old aesthetic #lemony snicket

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Hi!!! Would it be okay if I requested a worried head cannon for Astarion(Or Wyll or Halsin, I’m fine with any of them) where they lost track of Tav while on a scouting/stealth mission or on the battlefield? Thank you!

A/N: I went with losing track of their Tav on a stealth mission because that seemed the most anxiety-inducing… lol. Poor boys. Sorry, it’s not my best, I was rushing :( 

✧ Losing Track of Their Tav on A Stealth Mission ✧

Astarion: 

The most likely to panic, even though he swears he’d be the last to do so. 

He’s running all the worst-case scenarios through his head: you’ve been killed, you’ve been captured, you’re being enslaved just like he is…

Immediately jumps to the worry that Cazador or someone working for him has realized the two of you are together and plans to get to him through you.

He considers getting one of his companion’s attention but ultimately decides to continue sneaking in alone. He’s pretty good at sneaking, and the others could screw it up. He can’t leave your fate in the hands of someone klutzy like Gale accidentally casting fireball and alerting everyone to their presence. 

If he wasn’t intent on killing anyone in his way, he is now. They mean nothing to him. You mean everything to him. Do the math. You > Them. 

Definitely ends up compromising the mission, by either getting seen and alerting everyone or by causing enough chaos and death that people begin to notice. But none of that matters anymore to Astarion, whose only goal is finding you. Of course, if anyone else was to make that mistake, he’d chew them out for it. But he can’t see how hypocritical he’s being: all he can think about is your safety. 

When he finds you, he masks his fear with anger. He calls you an idiot, a fool- every name in the book. He doesn’t intend to hurt your feelings, he just doesn’t like how his affection for you puts him in a vulnerable place. He was terrified of losing you. The fear of that greatly outweighs the fear of the tadpole. 

He’ll get you away from there, away from everyone else. He can’t trust the strangers of Baldur’s Gate, and he doesn’t want his companions to see him this emotional. 

After the two of you are back to safety, and after he finishes berating you, he yanks you into a tight hug, refusing to let go. 

You tell him you’re sorry, and that it’s over now and you inform him it’s okay to let it out. Be prepared for the shoulder of your top to become soaked in tears. He’ll cry into you, telling you in between sobs how you were the first person in forever to see him as an equal. He needs you. You are the only one who sees him. He can’t lose you. 

After he’s calmed down, he’ll try to lighten the mood with a joke. Something about also being afraid to lose his very own privately stocked food source. Of course, you see right through the facade. You let him feed after that comment anyway, softly petting his hair as he does so. 

And even though normally while feeding, he’d be comforting you, telling you it’s alright, that it’s almost over- you end up comforting him, shushing him, and telling him the two of you will be okay- you’re not going anywhere. 

Wyll: 

Probably the most level-headed in his reaction, even if his thoughts are racing like mad. As the Blade of Frontiers, he’s learned how to think strategically in most situations. Of course, that’s easier said than done when someone you know and love is personally on the line. 

He’s figuring out all the possibilities, working out how likely each one is, in order to figure out which avenues to first explore. 

He continues on his own before remembering he’s not acting solo anymore. He’ll round back to where the others are stationed, and give them the news. He tells them the mission’s priorities have changed, and the goal for now is to find you. 

He doesn’t plan on completely abandoning the original job of course. He intends to get right back to business. He can keep both ideas in his head

Tries his best not to blow the original mission while looking for you. Of course, when push comes to shove, he’s going to choose you. The mission can be tried again at a later time: he can’t lose you. He’s lost too much in this life to accept having to part with another. 

If he has no leads and it's been a while, and he’s growing increasingly nervous, he might consider calling Mizora and asking for her help, even though he knows it’s going to cost him more years of servitude. Having to work for a devil is much more bearable when there’s someone you love. He’d make a thousand deals if it meant you’d stay safe. 

Once he finds you, he’ll quickly ask if you’re alright, before ushering everyone out. He wants nothing more than to speak to you freely, but he knows right then isn't the time to do it. 

After you are safely far enough away, either back at camp, or somewhere secluded, he’ll firmly but kindly demand to know what the hell you were thinking, sneaking off like that?! He wants you to know he was worried, dammit! He loves you! Can’t you see how much losing you would hurt him? 

He’ll take you into his arms and place a soft kiss on your forehead. You are so precious to him. Please, please, he asks, be more careful. 

He vows to be at your side for any future stealth missions. He loves how brave you are, and how much you want to protect him. Just let him protect you in return. 

Halsin: 

Halsin probably reacts the least because he has the most faith that you’ll be okay. He sees you as his savior- a savior of his people, of the grove, of the tieflings- you are the most incredible person to him. 

That being said, he’s not going to simply do nothing if he thinks you’ve run into trouble. You mean so much to him, of course he’s going to change courses and instead go search for you! 

He’s also going to rope the others into helping him. I mean, he’s not forcing them or anything, but he does regroup and tell the others of his concerns. He’s very calm and level-headed, but also quite determined, so the others have few qualms about switching gears and following him. 

He’s also the most adept at staying hidden while looking for you, being able to wild shape into an inconspicuous animal like a cat or a rat or a bird. He uses his druid abilities to his advantage, steering clear of confrontation as he makes a beeline to where your scent takes him. 

Once he finds you, if you yourself haven't been discovered and taken, he’ll stay in animal form, and carefully guide you to a reliable exit. However, if you’ve already been caught, be prepared for things to get hairy. (Get it? Hairy?) 

He will not hesitate to shift into a big-ass bear and rip people’s throats out as he carries you on his back to safety. Even though this makes him a much more large and obvious target, he’ll do it, if it means keeping you protected. Any hits or damage he can take, he can heal from, all the less pain you have to endure. 

He absolutely brings you somewhere outside of the city. He feels safest in nature, and in order to calm down, he needs free-flowing nature, which is hard to come by in Baldur’s Gate.

He’s going to squish you- even if you’re bigger than him. He’ll lay you down gently, before resting on top of you, keeping balanced so that you don’t have to support all of his weight. He needs to be close to you, preferably with skin-to-skin contact. He needs your warmth, your smell, the softness of your skin… It centers him and brings him back down to earth. 

He’ll voice his worries while simultaneously complimenting your skill. He doesn't want you to feel incapable, but he must let you know how he felt in that moment when he feared you were hurt or worse. 

You are his light, you brought him out of the shadows. And he can’t bear to lose you. Please, don’t fade away. Don’t leave him in darkness once more. 

...

Please Like & Reblog!!!

#astarion imagine #astarion x reader #wyll x reader #wyll imagine #halsin x reader #halsin imagine #bg3 x tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 #hc #hcs

[nhlclover]

battlefield | matthew knies

word count: 1.02k

summary: you and matthew get into an argument, testing the strength of your relationship.

warnings: angst, arguing

notes: finally getting around to old requests…

The air in your apartment was thick and heavy, tension hanging in the air like an oppressive fog. Each breath felt like a burden. A simple disagreement that started an hour ago now had you and Matthew caught in a heated argument, ensnared in a tangled web of emotions that refused to dissipate.

The fiery argument was fueled by the pent-up frustrations and grievances the pair of you held. You took turns shooting your words across the room, each sentiment increasingly more bitter than the last. Each accusation is aimed at the heart, both of you letting your anger get the best of the situation and just wanting to cause pain. It was a standoff with neither of you wanting to concede.

As the argument reached its crescendo, a sense of fragility now hung in the air. You sighed, exasperated. Your cheeks stained with tears and your lungs tight with anxiety. 

“I can’t argue anymore, Matt.” You say softly. 

You were curled up on the couch, knees pulled into your chest, while Matthew stood at a considerable distance across the room. He leaned on the island, the granite was cool against the clammy skin of his palms. The sound of you sniffling softly caused a crack to go through his chest.

“I…” You breathed, your voice trailing off. You struggled to find the right words to convey the turmoil churning in your stomach. “I think I need some space.”

He looked up at you, your frame squeezed into a tight ball. “What does that mean, y/n?” Matthew asks.

His face was so delicate like your next words could shatter him if you weren’t too careful. “I mean I think I need to some space for a bit. Just to sort through my thoughts.”

Matthew pushes off the counter, heading to the front hall. You spring up from the couch, following him. In the foyer, Matt shoves his feet into a pair of sneakers, yanking his coat off the rack.

“What are you doing?” You ask as he grabs his car keys of the key rack. 

“Giving you space.” He replies. 

The door slams behind him as he heads for the parking garage. Getting in his car, he had no destination in mind. He let his internal GPS take him wherever. Soon enough, he was pulling into the driveway of a familiar home. Matthew parked his car in the driveway, the engine clicking as it cooled down. He sat for a moment, staring blankly through the windshield before getting out and going to the front door.

Upon opening the door, John was met with a sad shell of his teammate. He opened the door wider, allowing Matthew to enter. He followed John into the familiar living room, sinking onto the couch. John’s gaze was fixed on Matthew.

“What’s on your mind, kid?” He asked. 

With a sigh, Matthew poured out his heart, retelling the last few days in which the tensions rose between the two of you, before finally boiling over into the argument from this morning. John listened intently, offering some words of wisdom once Matthew was finished.

“Sounds like it’s been a rough couple of days for you guys,” John said, Matthew nodding in agreement. “But disagreements are just opportunities for growth. You know how the two of you navigate these rough patches are just going to make you guys stronger.”

Matthew sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What if we don’t figure it out though?” Matthew asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty. 

John couldn’t help but chuckle softly, recognizing the anxiety of going through an argument in a young relationship. 

“It might not be easy, but you’ll get there. You’ve got to be patient with each other, try and see her point of view. Remember you’re a team. You’re in this together.” John said.

A sense of clarity washed over Matthew, John’s words aiding Matthew in navigating this. John’s sage advice was born from years of experience and Matthew took comfort in knowing that John knew what he was talking about. 

Before long, the familiar sound of boisterous laughter and shrieks filled the home. John’s kids enter the room, having just returned from school. Matthew found himself drawn into their world, the simple joy of their company offering a welcome distraction. 

As the evening wore on, Matthew lost track of time, the hours slipping away as he played hide and seek with the Tavares children, as well as being invited to stay for dinner. 

Back at your apartment, you were still sitting on the sofa, nerves wracking your body. Matthew hadn't called or texted. You believed he was safe, that he wouldn’t do anything stupid. But your heart was still in your stomach as you watched the time tick by. 

When you heard the front door clicking open, you sprang up from the couch, meeting your boyfriend in the front hall where he was removing his shoes. 

“Where were you?” You ask, your voice a little louder than you intended. “You didn’t call, you didn’t text…Nothing! I was so worried Matt!”

You launched into a tirade, your words sharp with frustration as you spewed out every single anxious thought you’d imagined since he left. Matthew let you vent your frustrations, upset with the fact that he had been gone for the last 6 hours. When you finally fell silent, Matthew spoke.

“I’m fine.” He said softly. “I just went somewhere to clear my head.”

You fell quiet, not quite knowing what to say next. The pair of you stood there, looking at one another as the tension slowly seemed to dissipate. 

“I’m sorry…” You said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t…”

“It’s okay, y/n.” He reassured, stepping towards you. “We both needed time to breathe.”

There’s another beat of silence before you speak again. “I’m sorry for raising my voice. And for what I said, I’m sorry Matt.”

“Me too. We both said things we shouldn’t have.” Matthew replies.  Matthew reaches out, taking your hand in his. “I’m sorry.”

His touch sends a wave of warmth through you, You reach for him, wrapping your arms around his torso. The words of John from earlier reverberate in Matthew’s mind. You guys were a team and you were in this together. It was going to take a whole lot more than an argument to separate the two of you.

#matthew knies #matthew knies imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #toronto maple leafs #matthew knies x reader

[charmwasjess]

Strap in for the Soresu form III Obi-Wan lightsaber post. This is gonna be a sad one, girlies. We’re getting into Obi-Wan’s Fucking Trauma. 

Qui-Gon’s death changed literally everything about Obi-Wan’s life, right down to the lightsaber form. Still a Padawan himself, he had to watch as an extinct monster from his nightmares* utterly took apart the form he’d learned since he was a child, and then, to complete the destruction, slaughtered the teacher who’d taught him the form and raised him. The devastation of Qui-Gon’s actual death had to be the last in a cascading series of horrors that started with the gut-sinking realization that Qui-Gon was losing. And if all of that weren’t enough, Obi-Wan also loses his own lightsaber in the same duel, a psychological blow to his personhood which we don’t have to guess at the significance of. Obi-Wan tells us the cost of it himself in AotC: this weapon is your life. 

The Duel of the Fates on a sheer physical level is a devastating thing to consider. It’s a grueling, full out running battle, the likes of which we don’t see elsewhere in the saga. The beauty (and pounding musical score) of the fight distracts from the sheer brutality of it. Maul is physically attacking them at every turn; he manages to kick Qui-Gon hard enough to knock all 6’3 of him off his feet; he dumps Obi-Wan into a fall that seems to be several stories high. We don’t see Obi-Wan get back up off the floor with Qui-Gon’s body at the end of the duel, and I’d be surprised if he was physically able to even stand again so after the adrenaline faded and the soreness and exhaustion took over. He just been whirled in a lightsaber blender. 

I can’t imagine how hard it was for him to pick up a lightsaber again after the trauma of that battle - much less, a new, unfamiliar one, not the kyber crystal that had been his since he was a child. The new canon’s emphasis on the spiritual relationship between a Jedi and their crystal makes this detail even more excruciating. The Ataru form itself must have felt broken and unusable. How can you put your trust in a form once you watched it be broken so ruthlessly?

And this is where Obi-Wan is so endlessly beautiful as a character. He goes through this horrifying experience of violent unmaking, and instead of avoiding lightsabers as an understandable trauma response, or picking up an overwhelming power and dominance form like V, he remakes himself into a master of Soresu: a form of simple, complete defense. He doesn’t attempt to become a weapon of attack like Maul did to disintegrate Ataru; he makes himself invincible, untouchable, with a perfect defense. Soresu works the pieces that fell apart for the Jedi in the Duel of the Fates to an advantage. It is a form of ultimate endurance, of playing out your opponent and staying up in a fight until the attacker is exhausted or angry. It preserves and it lasts. It is philosophical. It is considered. It lacks the showy flash of Makashi or Ataru and returns to the basics, even working in some of that battlefield meditation that Qui-Gon so believed in. And in that simple economy, it’s gorgeous and effective. 

I have to wonder: is Soresu, on some level, a form of kinetic self-soothing for a person who faced an incredibly traumatic battle at a young age? Does Obi-Wan use it that way?

All of this is perfectly in keeping with the themes of the character. Obi-Wan’s story remains about life, about hope, about survival. The word he uses to describe the Jedi to Luke in the OT is important to me. “Jedi knights were the guardians of peace and justice.” Guardians. And what better lightsaber approach for a person who sees his role as one of protection than a form whose signature move is called “The Circle of Shelter?”

*Maul, of course, is a tragedy in his own right, but that’s a different post. 

#star wars analysis #lightsaber nerd stuff #lightsaber forms #qui gon jinn #obi wan kenobi #disaster lineage #the clone wars #duel of the fates #the phantom menace #soresu #darth maul #star wars meta

[thegnomelord]

Hi! Could you do #15 with Ghost & FTM!Reader? I love your writing :D

Sure thing anon :D and thanks for the compliment lol, play the game HERE

Prompt: "Come here. Sit in my lap and tell me what you want."

CW:NSFW, Sub Bot Ghost, Dom Top FTM reader, riding, cockwarming, dom/sub, strap-on's, praise.

Simon went off to a mission. . .but he's not the one who come back.

It's Ghost that returns to you, loud footsteps ringing like gunshots outside your room, barely able not to take the door off it's hinges when he comes in. He stands in the doorway, on the proverbial line between here and back there; the scent of blood hits you before you even see him, blood on his clothes, on his body, on his soul (or what's left of it)

You continue writing your report, but move your eyes to meet his. The blood splattered across the bleach white of his mask turns the warm browns of his eyes dark like the head of a bullet, like the soil he'd been buried under, like the rot festering in his brain; Your first instinct is to comfort him, to get up and hug him, to hold him until your presence pushes life into his lungs, to let him claw your back and bite your shoulder because Ghost loves you with his teeth first but— no.

It's not what he needs right now.

"Come in, lock the door." You order, keeping your voice steady, firm, a bit bored even.

You write down a few more sentences in your report, ears straining to hear him follow your orders, the door locking, counting the steady 'thump's of his boots as he walks up to your desk. Neither of you talk, the silence broken by his staggered breathing; can't drown the world in blood without loosing your breath too.

"Strip." Your tone never changes, like this isn't abnormal for two lieutenants to do, like it's just another order, because he isn't a lieutenant right now. He's just another soldier.

He doesn't say a word, doesn't hesitate either, even the soft 'click's of belts and buckles turned harsh from how fast he undoes them. A little bit of care returns in the way he folds his gear, neatly laying the folded clothes on the edge of your desk. He stands before you naked save for the mask, dark eyes bearing down at you.

Beneath the scent of blood and sweat, there's the undoubtable smell of gunpowder and steel that had burrowed deep into his pores, his muscles rigid and jaw so tense you wouldn't be surprised if he'd chipped a tooth.

You finally look up, rolling back on your chair to create space between you and the desk. "Come here," You pat your thigh. "Sit in my lap and tell me what you want."

There's the slightest nod of his head before he's walking around your desk, Ghost's calloused hands grip your shoulders firmly as he settles on your lap, thigh thighs caging in your own, the chair creaking. He's a mountain of muscle on top of you and he doesn't attempt to ease the burden of his weight on you, he expects you to shoulder it as much as you expect him to give you all that's weighing down on him.

You tip your head back to look up at Ghost, gripping the armrests to keep yourself from touching him — you don't reward half-assed jobs. "Repeat my last order."

"Sit in your lap," Ghost says, rough, more teeth than tongue. "an' tell you what I want." His hands tighten on your shoulders as if he's trying to see how much pressure he needs to put before you break; a dog tugging on the leash.

"And?" You keep the discomfort from his grip secret, keeping a good poker face until he relents, his hands still firm but now holding you like the edge of a cliff than something he's destined to break.

". . .want you, sir." Ghost manages and you finally reward him, just a small brush of your fingers along his naked thighs feels like a hot knife carving through ice, painful and pleasant at once.

"Good," You hum, "Now, here's what's going to happen." The battlefield's uncontrollable, chaotic, unstable. Knowing what's going to happen will be good for him. "You'll go get my cock from the dresser, you'll put it on me, then you'll sit nice and pretty until I finish my reports." His eyes darken as you speak, "Any complaints?"

"Negative." He breathes out, body already starting to buzz. You motion for him to go and he does, walking across your office as you adjust the chair so you have a better way of writing with Ghost in your lap.

Ghost sucks in a breath when he finds the toy already attached to the harness, gripping it tightly in one hand and his heart flutters when his fingers don't wrap around it all the way. It's Simon's favorite one; Long and thick, never failing to make him feel so fucking full with the prominent curve it has, covered in artificial bumps to rub and tease his prostate with every breath or minute twitch, and a thick knot at the base to make sure he's not going anywhere.

It's Simon's favorite — Ghost couldn't give less of a fuck so long it's in him.

He pads back over to you, kneeling when you tell him to. You're slow and measured as you stand up, bracing your hands on his wide shoulders. "Put it on me." You hum, fingers scratching the back of his neck in reward when he does as he's told, careful with the strap like he is with his gear, tightening the belt until the large cock sits comfortably but firmly on you.

You sit back on the chair, grabbing the lube. "Hop up," Ghost is a little more eager this time, settling back in your lap. The 'click' of the cap opening sounds like a gavel. "Stay still and relax." You order, pouring a generous amount on your fingers and trailing down to circle around his hole. "Need you to tell me if it hurts, understand?"

"Affirmative sir," He says, tries to buck his hips into your hand to speed you up but you just grip his thigh until he realizes rushing you won't get him anywhere and he stills.

"Be good now," You circle his hole a few more times to smear the lube, pressing the pad of your finger against him and putting a bit of pressure without truly trying to penetrate him, just getting his body used to human sensations. A small ragged breath leaves him and you take it as your cue to push in, slow at first, only able to push to the first knuckle before he clenches down, unsure if he wants to draw you in deeper or push you out.

"Sir," He breathes out, resting his head on your shoulder, smearing the blood on his mask on your clothes.

"Relax," You remind him, waiting until his clenching walls cease trying to snap your finger off before pushing a little deeper. You repeat this song and dance a few more times until he's comfortable having your finger slowly fucking in and out of him, a nice flush across his chest.

"I'm going to add one more now." You say as you pull your finger out to pour more lube, hearing him bite back a groan by biting your shoulder as best he can. "And no biting," You huff, cooing softly when he stops what he's doing.

"Yes sir," He sighs, eyes fluttering shut as he feels you push two fingers into him. It's a bigger stretch than before, a bigger burn, and he relishes it. He pants, chest rising and falling rapidly with every thrust in and slow drag out, not even noticing that he's rock hard. You crook your fingers, lazily searching for his prostate and you know you find it when he actually moans, muffled as the sound is.

"There you go, good boy." Praising him softly you continue to stretch him up to four fingers, feeling him wrap his arms around your neck and resting his head on his forearm, panting softly in your ear and even giving you a soft grunt every time you graze his prostate.

His thighs are covered in lube by the time you're satisfied, his cock standing stiff at attention. You pulling your fingers out has him growling low in his throat, but you placate him easily with a firm grope of his thighs while you squeeze the rest of the lube on your strap.

"Now, you'll sit until I finish the reports, no more than an hour or two." You grip the back of his neck, making him look at you. "Can you do that, my strong man?"

"Yes sir." He breathes out, and even with the mask you can see a bit of your Simon coming back, the skin around his eyes flushed, pupils dilated.

"Good boy. Relax now." You guide the tip of your strap to his hole, letting him catch his breath before slowly pushing his hips down until the head slips past his rim. He shudders, swearing beneath his breath, his arms tightening around your head as he continues to slowly sink down the large strap.

He's panting by the time he's halfway down, the bumps on the thing lined in such a way that at least one is always pushing past his prostate, the tip spreading him apart further than your fingers can reach. You start taking pauses, letting his clenching walls get used to the large intrusion before pushing an inch more, going inch after inch like that.

Once only the knot remains Ghost has almost fully melted against you, the strap so big and stretching him so wide it demands his full attention, leaving the violent thoughts in his head nothing to hold on to. "Think you can take the knot?" You ask softly but firmly, brushing a hand down his arched spine to his stretched rim, feeling how taught it is.

"Yes," Ghost breathes out, burying his head into the crook of your neck. "Give it to me sir."

You grant him his wish, gently pushing his thighs down and tilting your hips up and it looks like it won't fit — then with a 'pop' the knot slips into him, tearing a loud nasally moan from him. It's insane but you swear you can feel him clenching around the strap, your hand settling on his stomach where the head of your cock is bulging his tummy, his cock leaking an endless stream of pre with how the bumps press against his prostate.

"Good boy," You praise him, groping and massaging his trembling thighs until he relaxes, fully relaxes, a long shuddering breath escaping his lungs. "Such a good boy, just sit and feel, alright?"

He hums in confirmation, slurring a 'yes sir' like he's drunk or sleepy. Even through the layers of clothing you can feel his wildly beating heart steadily slow from it's frantic beat to something calm, the pleasure and pain and everything melting away from his mind as his body finally registers he's safe. Safe to just be.

You keep your nondominant hand on his hip to keep him steady and still, brushing the surrounding skin with your thumb as you let him float in his head while you get back to your reports. . .

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