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compact-turtle · 1 year

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Yandere Soldier x GN Reader PT 1

Concept: Yandere Soldier X GN Reader PT 1

TW: , Kidnapping, gaslighting, possessive, manipulation, brief mentions of ptsd, mentions of death, fear, war, danger, guns, usual yandere behavior, Sexual harassment (Not by yandere), murder, hostage situation

Summary: You save the life of a dying soldier. He becomes attached to you...

Wordcount: 1.7K

-Yandere Soldier, whose fellow comrades burst through a hospital door. They lay him on a bed and shout for help.

- Everything hurts. His lungs are on fire. A million needles are pricking him. Desperately, he tries to scream, but nothing comes out.

-Doctors and nurses immediately surround him. His crying comrades scream for them to save him. None of it mattered though. All of their voices start to become faint.

-His vision grows hazy. A dark void begins to swallow his consciousness. There’s only so long he can fight and endure. It feels like someone is holding his head underwater. Every time he tries to get air, it submerges him deeper.

-Is this the end?

-Fear slowly trickles into him. The unknown nature of death frightens him. He’s seen it time and time again. His vibrant comrades slipped into the cold hands of death. Only one thing kept him alive on the battlefield. A fantasy that he'd find someone to love.

-He'd return home and find someone who cherished him. They'd go on dates and dance around in the kitchen. After every fight, they would make up (in bed maybe). Life would have its ups and downs, but he'd cherish every memory with them.

-In these fleeting moments, he mourns his lost dream. It terrifies him more than death. The idea that he'd never experience love or any of its joys.

-Yet, he hears something. A soft voice calling out to him. It envelops his mind like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. It soothes him. Slowly, the voice pulls him from the ever-growing vacuum.

“You’ll be ok, sir. Just stay with me.”

—

-Yandere soldiers who stand outside your room flirting with you. You sat on your bed listening to him. A small smile snakes itself on his lips as he prepares his joke.

“Why did the chicken go to your house?”

“Hm. I’m not sure.”

“Because it was egg-cited to see you!”

“That was so cheesy, Ivar.”

-You let out a small snort. The joke was awful. Regardless, it didn't matter to Ivar. He’d tell you a million bad jokes as long as you kept grinning at him. A rush of euphoria filled him up every time.

-A few months ago, Ivar woke up from his coma. His brain was muddled. There were gaps in his memory. Even his body refused to cooperate. However, adrenaline kicked in as he heard the door creak open. Without a second thought, he lunged for the intruder.

-Yet, his body gave out. The long coma made its effects known. Ivar thrashed every which way. He tried to kick or punch. Anything.

-In the end, the staff had to sedate him. When he awoke for a second time, a doctor was there to calm him down. They stated he was in the hospital receiving care for an injury. Also, noting how he tried to attack a member of their staff.

-He apologized and asked for the doctor to summon the staff member. A heavenly angel was sent to his room. They were dressed in a clean pair of scrubs with a small heart pin on their pocket. Ivar was memorized. His heart began to palpitate and his eyes widened.

-It wasn’t until you opened your mouth that it all clicked for him. You were the one who saved him. The one who pulled up from the jaws of hell.

-The two of you began to bond. Ivar waited for you to arrive in his hospital room like a small puppy. He’d eagerly greet you then wait for you to tell him about your day.

-Throughout his encounters, he learned that you were a volunteer nurse at this hospital. You wanted to help people during the wartime and make an impact on others lives.

-Some of his comrades began to tease him about his obvious affection. The only one who didn’t seem to notice was you. Perhaps, Ivar was being to obvert or perhaps you chose to ignore it? Regardless, none of those thoughts managed to stop his ever-growing feelings.

-During this time, Ivar noticed someone during your shifts. Another man who became interested in you. Ivar observed how the man’s eyes would linger on your behind. The way that awful man undressed you in his mind.

-For the first few days, Ivar ignored it. He convinced himself eventually, the man would stop. After all, how could someone defile such a sweet angel like you?

-Unfortunately, the man began to escalate his harassment. They'd smack your ass when you bent over or try to squeeze your chest after a usual check-up. The hospital refused to remove him as your patient due to the lack of staff. All they did was reassure you that he’d be gone soon.

-This pushed Ivar over the edge. Couldn’t they see how you were suffering? You were always happy to help patients. You’d come into the hospital practically beaming. However, the man sucked your light.

-So he made a decision on your behalf. He kindly disposed of the man. It wasn’t too difficult. All he had to do was disrepute a few machines next to him. The man seemingly died of a “natural cause”.

- A sense of joy washed over him seeing the man suffer. How their eyes turned desperate, begging Ivar to do something. Inside, a small part wishes that he could’ve done more for the man. Death was something too kind for this man. Maybe drag his knife across their skin to see him truly suffer. Slowly and gradually to make the pain last. Still, someone might have noticed the cuts. Better to play safe.

-Anyways, he knew he made the right choice. You secretly confided in him that you were glad the man passed away. Every shift, you were afraid of another encounter with that man. Pride swelled in his heart as you told him your relief.

-There came a day when Ivar was finally discharged from the hospital. He was disappointed to say the least. Thankfully, he already came up with a plan to solve the problem. Ivar stood at the top of some stairs. He looked both ways about to jump. However, he was stopped by your voice calling out for him.

-You told him that you enjoyed the daily conversations. You also mentioned how you’d love to be his friend and spend time outside of work together.

-Naturally, Ivar jumped at the opportunity to be with you. He quickly exchanged phone numbers.

-The next few months consisted of him texting you everyday. He’d check up on you, text random pictures of his meals and so forth.

-The two of you also had regular hangouts. Sometimes Ivar would take you to see movies, or a walk around the city. Honestly, if you even mentioned something you wanted to do, Ivar had that activity planned out the next day.

-Ivar felt closer to you than anyone else. Just the thought of you was enough to send his heart racing.

-Looking up at the clock, Ivar noticed the time. He needed to get going if he was going to prepare everything on time.

“Sorry, angel. I’ve gotta run. The men need me for a project. I’ll see you later at seven, right?”

“Seven sounds good to me! Can’t wait to see what you have planned out for us.”

-Ivar smiled at you. He quickly gave a small goodbye hug. Trying to be discreet, Ivan smelled your neck. The strong scent of your body wash lingered in his nostrils. He desperately wished to cling to you. For you to never be apart from him.

-Pulling away with a small sense of disappointment, Ivar waved goodbye.

—------------

-A large bouquet of red roses rests in Ivar’s arms. This afternoon, he spent three hours finding the perfect florist. There was no room for imperfections. Every single detail had to be flawless.

-After six long months, Ivar had finally worked up the courage to ask you out. He envisioned how it’d play out. You’d accept the roses with a gleeful smile. Afterward, Ivar would take you out to the lake. The two of you would dance across the beach and then share a passionate kiss to end the night.

-“Wow, Ivar. Finally making your move after all this time?” Chadwick, one of his comrades, said teasing him.

“Of course, boys. Wish me luck.” Ivar replied, winking, “I’m about to land the angel of my dreams. Some of you, though, are gonna be stuck as single dogs forever. “

-The men burst into laughter. Ivar joined along. Each one patted his back and congratulated him. Some even began to ask about the wedding date. While being praised for his boldness, a loud blaring echoed through the room. Immediately, the mood became uneasy. Everyone turned their attention to the TV overhead.

“Breaking News! Nightshade Hospital has been overtaken by a rebel group. Multiple hostages are currently being held including medical staff and patients alike.” A news broadcaster said standing outside the hospital, “Shots have been confirmed to have been fired in the building. Please continue listening as we continue to bring more updates about this pressing matter.”

“Ivar, isn’t your angel at home today?”

“They shouldn't be at work. Mondays are their days...” Ivar trailed off

-He began to recall you complaining about taking a shift for a coworker. Ivar felt his stomach drop. He moves closer to the TV to get a better look. His eyes are desperately searching for any sign of you. Maybe you decided not to take that shift after all?

-That’s right. It’s possible you were still in your apartment. Safe and sound. You probably were eating snacks on the couch. Or reading that novel you never finished. After all, you weren’t even supposed to be at work today.

-Buzz

-Quickly, he pulls out his phone. A text notification appears on the screen. Dread ate away all his hopes.

-Ivar, I’m hiding in a room on the third floor. I think they just shot Dr. Roberts.

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wordstome · 5 months

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the execution of lady jane grey

I got drunk and Tiktok showed me history_alice's video about this painting by Paul Delaroche. And since God has cursed me for my hubris and my work is never finished, have some medieval executioner König x fem mc. Also, Lady Jane Grey was executed by Mary Tudor (Bloody Mary), not by Henry the VIIIth (the one with the six wives), but I blended the stories just because I can.

1.3k words

König doesn't ask questions.

It's never been his job to ask questions. The king points, and he does the dirty work. Most of the time, he takes pleasure in it: thieves, rapists, murderers, they all answer to his justice. And sure, a true loyal citizen might argue that he's simply enacting the king's justice, but it's König who swings the axe, is it not? In the end, König decides their fate.

In theory, anyway. In practice, this is simply his job. He keeps his head down and does what he's told. He stays quiet about the king's secret executions, the ones that happen in the dungeons instead of out in the open courtyard where the smallfolk gather to watch. It's hypocritical, honestly. They all look at König like he's a monster, some spectre of death among men, but when there's a public execution to be held, are they not the ones clamoring and pushing to be at the front?

There are some times when the king's executions are more...dubious. An advisor who voiced dissent one too many times. A thief stealing barley from the royal stables to feed his family, made an example of. A young man, just a boy really, accused of murdering four grown men—convenient, considering all four men's wives had been found in the king's bed at some point or another.

Those are the executions König prefers not to think about. The ones that haunt him in his dreams anyway. Those are the ones that make him yearn for his days in the army: when the people he killed were as faceless as his hood was to them, when he didn't know them and didn't have to think about the loved ones they left behind. König's never claimed to be a good person, the opposite in fact. But sometimes when he brings the blade down, he imagines a different, more royal neck on the block instead.

He feels this way now, as he watches her make her way to the block.

She's ethereal in her petticoat, the soft silken material reflecting what little light there is in the cold stone room and bathing her in a warm glow. Gentle and obedient into her own grave.

The king's wife. Sent to the block for treason, of all things. But everyone knows the truth: he's only killing this poor woman because he plots to put his latest mistress on the throne. Just a few weeks ago, this sweet young thing was the king's main obsession. She stood no chance at all, the daughter of a local lord currying favor with royalty. And now, she's being put to death through no fault of her own. The injustice grinds König's teeth, and takes his mind to a dark, dangerous place.

If she was his, he would never so much as let another woman cross his mind again. He's seen her about the palace grounds, with her beautiful bright eyes and lively smile, skirts trailing behind her like the tail feathers of an exotic bird. Just watching her had made him feel young again, no longer the brutish old soldier everyone averted their eyes from.

He's only spoken to her once, but he'll never forget it. He had been in her way, but she was the one who apologized. Most people would have seen the hood and backed away in fear, but not her. He watched, frozen and unable to say a single word, as she curtseyed and looked at him with, of all things, a shy curiosity. For one still, breathtaking moment, he held her gaze in his, and he felt like they were the last two people remaining on earth.

Then her lady in waiting had touched her on the elbow, and the spell was broken as they continued on their way. But König had never forgotten.

That same lady in waiting is here now, eyes puffy as she holds the queen's elaborate dress and jewelry in her lap. She had chosen to take it off, so as not to stain the expensive fabrics with her blood. How can she be so considerate of others, when the whole world has failed her so?

She turns to him, trembling like a little bird, and meets his gaze. The words come out before he can help himself.

"I beg your forgiveness," he blurts out, and almost immediately mentally scolds himself. What right does he have, of all people, to ask for her grace?

"Of course, sir," she says, her voice clear and sweet. Surely, he can't feel any more wretched than he does right now...and then she speaks again.

"I only pray you dispatch me quickly..." She turns a fearful eye to the wooden block, sitting almost innocently on top of the straw laid down to soak up her lifeblood. "Will...will you take it before I lay me down?"

"No, madam," he whispers.

She nods, and with a sudden streak of iron will, ties the blindfold about her head. König knows this is a kindness: she'll never see him coming. And yet his heart aches to see her cover up those beautiful eyes.

A loud sob comes out of the lady in waiting, watching her young mistress fumble around blindly. König's heart shatters when she lets out a little cry of confusion as the lieutenant of the prison rushes to hold her steady. "What shall I do? Where is it?"

König feels a sudden streak of anger, at the gentle way the lieutenant lowers her to the ground. The man clearly knows this is wrong, and yet will not lift a finger to help her.

Guilt strikes him yet again as he remembers that neither is he.

Or is he?

He stares down at her, this vulnerable little lamb sent to the slaughter, her pretty neck exposed for his blade, and he knows what he has to do.

The lady in waiting cries out in anguish as the blade lowers to the queen's head, causing her to gasp as the cold metal brushes against her skin. But instead of cutting her head off, König slices through her blindfold with a deft precision.

"What is the meaning of this?" The lieutenant demands as the queen scrambles from her kneeling position. König offers his arm, and she takes it, her hands warm against his sleeve as she stands up. The confusion is writ plain on her face, but her eyes shine with an innocent hope that only steels König's resolve.

"You," König says, pointing his axe at the lieutenant, who shuffles backwards nervously. "You will tell the king that she has been executed. If he asks for a body, find one: I don't care which one. And if you tell anyone what happened here today, I swear to you that I will water the earth with your blood, and the blood of every family member in your line." His eyes narrow at the lieutenant. "Do I make myself clear?" The man nods, stuck still with terror.

The queen's lady in waiting rushes forward, pressing jewels into her hands. "My lady, you will need these," she says urgently. "For wherever life takes you next." She gives König a determined look. "Take care of her, sir."

The queen's eyes go wide and round as she looks up at König. "I don't understand."

He kneels to her height, taking her hands in his. "I am taking you away from this place," he tells her, his voice low and urgent. "But you need to trust me."

She closes her eyes, and takes one deep, trembling breath before opening them again. "I trust you."

"Good." She yelps as he picks her up in his arms, hands instantly darting about his shoulders. "I am sorry, my lady, but we don't have much time."

She giggles, giggles, in his arms. "I don't mind," she says, with a mischievous little look that invites trouble. God, he is utterly fucked, isn't he?

"I can give you time, but not much," the lieutenant says. "Go!"

König doesn't need to be told twice.

To be honest with you, I have no idea what this is. I wrote this in, like. An hour. I think a demon possessed me. I don't think I'm going to write more of this au, but who knows!

@danibee33 @kneelingshadowsalome @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria

#könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #konig x reader #könig x reader #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #mw2 #könig x you #konig x you

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asterias-record-shop · 11 months

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—𓆩[something worse]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Tobias Eaton (Four) x Fem! Dauntless Born! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - smut, fluff

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 2K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You and Four had been together since he chose Dauntless, especially because you were one of the Dauntless born pulled into training. You both had never put a label on your relationship because it never seemed right, but everyone knew that you both were a couple, except the newest tributes you both were training, no matter how obvious you both made it. It seems you both have to make it a little more obvious.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - so sorry I was writing this during a final and it might suck I’m sorry 😭 || cursing || unprotected sex || creampie || oral || fingering

You were used to wandering eyes, you really were, your partner was literally the hottest man in Dauntless. It didn’t really matter about wandering eyes though when they knew you both were together, label or not, but it seemed to be difficult to get through the mind of one of the new initiates.

You weren’t born Abnegation like either of them, you were a bitch and you made sure everyone knew it. You were a lovable bitch though, that’s why you were being fucked every night by the hottest man in all of the factions.

It passed through your mind to just show her, get Four to tell her something is going on in a certain area just to pull him there to fuck you. You passed it through Tori just to make sure, and she said no though, so you decided not to go through with it.

Maybe that’s why you were watching Four fix Tris’ position because she wouldn’t stick with it when Eric did it. It made your skin crawl, staring at the two of them. Maybe it did feel right that he was with someone from his home faction, didn’t he like selfless people? You were selfless in your own way, right? He knew that.

“Hey, you okay?” Uriah asks you, a smile quickly making its way to your face.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, thank you. I’m going to go see how some of the kids are doing, you mind telling Four?” You start collecting your stuff, inhaling deeply as Uriah follows you.

“He’s coming over here.”

You shoot up as Four stands in front of you, his brow raised. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go do my time at the school,” you say, smiling slightly. “I just… haven’t seen King in a while.”

Four sighs. “Well… I can go with you in a minute, okay? King likes me, right?”

You laugh, slowly lifting your arms to wrap your arms around his neck before pausing. Public displays of affection were never really your thing, but you really wanted to.

Four saw you pause, leaning down to wrap his arms around your waist as you smiled and wrapped yours around his neck. “Everyone likes you, Four,” you teased, giggling. “But I love you.”

He smiles back, leaning down for a soft kiss as you tugged on his hair. “I love you too.”

You pulled his hands closer to your form, pulling his face into your neck as you looked over his shoulder just enough to wink at Tris before pulling away. “Let’s go see King.”

He nods, letting you lead him out of the training area and to the school. Dauntless didn’t teach like Erudite did, but they made sure that the children of the faction learned things needed to survive in the faction. King was a child of two Dauntless soldiers who had died exploring beyond the wall, and as a result, you both took him in sort of like your own.

Seeing you with a child really made Four want to give you a child, especially with how good you were with kids, but it never really seemed to be the right time.

That was until he saw you twirling another boy in your eyes, King cleaning one of Four’s guns while the older man oiled up one of the other ones. The younger boy was named Chris, someone whose parents got caught up in a mission and you both took him home just for a while.

“She looks good with a baby, right?” King asks, smiling. “Y/N was always good with kids. She was good with me,” he mumbles now, smiling. “I’m doing well in my training. She said that.”

“You are,” Four said with a smile. “You’re doing really well. Ranked third, kid, you’re doing good,” he leaned forward and ruffled his hair with a laugh. “Want you to get that first spot, though.”

King grins. “I will.”

Someone knocks making you fix Chris on your hip, quickly walking toward the door as Four stands. “Stay there,” he orders to King as you open the door, raising a brow when you see Tris. “Who is it?”

“Uhm… can I help you?”

She inhaled. “I just… I’m here to see Four.”

“Four, honey!” You yell out, the tall man coming behind you and settling a hand on your hip. “One of the trainees wants to speak with you.”

Four raised a brow. “Everything alright?”

Oh, the Abnegation was coming out.

“Y-Yeah, everything’s fine-”

“Perfect,” Four smiles, taking Chris from your arms and setting him on the ground. “King, come here!”

The older boy quickly walks over, standing just like Four. “Yeah?”

“Why don’t you take Chris down to eat? Tris will join you both,” Four says making King’s nose scrunch. “What?”

“Don’t forget I sleep here too.” King takes Chris’ hand, looking back just a bit. “Don’t forget I have a bed! That’s my bed!”

“Bye, King!” You laughed as Four grinned, closing the door as his other hand held your waist.

You couldn’t stop smiling, giggling as you stared up at him. “You did that, didn’t you?”

His smile grows, just a bit. “Yeah, I did. Uriah kind of… hinted it to me.”

You hummed. “Good, because I would've done something worse,” you said, slowly stepping back and pushing your hands into his tight black shirt. “I was this close.”

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?” He asked, smiling as the back of your knees bumps against the bed. His rough hands slip under your shirt, rubbing against your back as though he could feel the black ink you had gotten tattooed.

“Was gonna make her catch us fucking in the corridor,” you giggled as Four slipped off your shirt, humming as he leaned down. “Who said we always have to fuck on the bed? You like that idea?”

He nodded into your shoulder, lips pressing soft kisses to your skin as you started to lean back, his hands securely catching you before you could fall back fully. Carefully, he sets you down, his mouth pressing hot kisses to your neck down your chest. “I fucking love that idea,” he mumbled, his hand slowly rubbing circles against your thigh. “You want to go do that now?”

It was a tempting offer, but you shake your head. “No,” you say, tugging on the hem of his shirt. “You already got me here. Why move?”

He smiled even wider, leaning down as his hands moved to your hips to slowly tug at the tactile pants you wore. “I was thinking,” he whispers as you pull him down to press kisses to his neck. You could see the black peeking out from his shirt, pulling it off of him easily as he pulled away just to slip it off before pulling off your own. “You looked good with Chris on your hip.”

You paused, looking up at him. “You think so?”

He nodded, his hands tugging at your sports bra as your hands dragged down his back. He kneels over your body, pressing kisses down your neck to your chest. “I know so. You’re a natural with kids, angel, you’re fucking perfect.”

The slight husk in his voice made a shiver run up your back, your stomach twisting and heat flooding into your underwear as he lets his hot mouth suck at your lower stomach. “D-Does that mean something?”

He smiled, looking up at you. “Did I just get a Dauntless-born to stutter?”

You blushed madly, looking away. “Don’t let it get to your head, Four.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your pelvic bone before he slowly starts to pull your underwear off, his fingers dancing along your thighs as you squirmed, gasping as he pressed a firm kiss to your clit. It makes you squirm, his fingers replacing his lips as he kisses lower and lower.

“F-Fuck,” you whimper as the tip of his fingers slowly prod against your cunt, his mouth sucking and licking around his fingers as your hands push into his hair. “F-Four, you’re being too nice.”

He laughs, pulling away just for a minute as he slowly pushes a thick finger into you, watching as your hips buck into the air and your back arches. “Maybe it’s the Abnegation?”

You shook your head, reaching a hand down to push his fingers deeper into your pussy. It makes you whine, a gasp coming from your lips as he pulls them out just for a second to add another finger. “Abnegation is selfless, my darling, maybe it’s the Amity? J-Just, don’t stop.”

He laughs, popping a kiss to your cunt before pushing his fingers deeper into you, watching as you squirmed. Moans fall from your lips as he pressed firm circles against your clit, the sensitive bud making you whine loudly, hips bucking.

His fingers curl inside of you, pushing his tongue into you with his fingers as you tug on his hair and your other hand finds his cheek.

You felt your stomach twisting, hips bucking uncontrollably as you attempted to ride his fingers. You gasped as his fingers curled inside of you, attempting to find that one soft spot inside of you that made your eyes roll back. It didn’t take him long to find, especially because he’s memorized your body over the years and he groaned as you clenched around him.

“Come on honey, cum for me. Want to watch you cum.”

Your eyes rolled back, whimpering as he pushed his fingers knuckle deep into you to watch your pussy flutter. Your stomach twists, loud groaning falling from your lips as your stomach twists. Your hips buck, eyes rolling back as he sucked on your cunt, swallowing loudly as he pulled out his fingers.

He pulled away, sitting up as he pulled down his pants just enough to pull out his cock, hissing as you raised your legs to wrap around his waist. He grunts as he slowly pushes into you, eyes rolling back as he leaned down to hold himself up with his elbows, pulling you in for a kiss. “Fucking hell, I want to see you with my kids so bad,” he groaned, gasping as you pulled him down for a kiss. “Want to see you pregnant over and over again.”

You whined, his hips moving quickly as the bed pounded into the wall, your nails dragging down his back. His cock rammed into your pussy, strong thrusts making your eyes roll back as he pressed his lips to your neck. “You want that honey? Want to be fucked, round and full with my kids?”

You nodded, whining loudly. “Yes! Yes, I do!”

He grunts loudly, slamming into you just to feel your pussy clench along his entire shaft, a broken moan leaving his lips as you cum again around him. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, fuck! Four!” You yelled out as he reaches down to rub firm circles into your clit, rutting his hips just a few more times as he came inside you for the first time without protection.

It was an odd feeling, but filling as he groaned loudly, your cunt continued to clench around him to milk him of everything he had. It was warm, and if you could feel sticky-ness inside of you, it would be this. You whimper as he starts to pull out, trying to reach forward to pull him back in before he grabs your legs, pushing them back so your knees were on your shoulders.

“You don’t think we’re done yet, do you? Gotta make sure this sticks.”

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thrumbolt · 6 months

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Top 5 most annoying Tamlin scene misinterpretations

1. ''There is no such thing as a high lady'' I hate this one, because it is always taken as some sort of proof that Tamlin is a raging misogynist who doesn't want an equal woman by his side or some similar type of nonsense. I don't know where this is coming from. Tamlin never wanted to be a high lord. He would probably welcome for someone to take over most of the work so he could just keep running through the woods. He also has absolutely no issues with taking advice from women in power (Ianthe? Hello??). His first reaction to the high lady question is literally this:

“Is everyone just going to call me ‘Tamlin’s wife’? Do I get a … title?” He lifted his head long enough to look at me. “Do you want a title?”

And let's not forget that Feyre's first reply is ''No, I don’t know if I can handle them calling me High Lady”. To which he then answers that she doesn't have to worry about that, since ''there is no such thing as a high lady'' because the magic choses the title and it keeps chosing males. Also this whole scene happens while he eats her out. Not that it's relevant or anything, just saying...

2. ''Tamlin killed Rhys' family'' No. Tamlin's dad killed Rhys' family. I have no idea how Tamlin doing it is ever the takeaway from that whole story. Let's just quote the actual scene:

“Tamlin’s father, brothers, and Tamlin himself set out into the Illyrian wilderness, having heard from Tamlin—from me—where my mother and sister would be, that I had plans to see them. I was supposed to be there. I wasn’t. And they slaughtered my mother and sister anyway.”

Yeah okay, Tamlin gave the information (supposedly) and was there (supposedly) sure, but it's highly unlikely that he was so willingly. Let's not forget that it's established that Tamlin was afraid of his father, that Tamlin's father is worse than Beron (who, I might remind you, tortures his sons) and that Tamlin was friends with Rhys at the time - which neither family approved of. Even Rhys doesn't actually believe Tamlin did anything besides being spineless:

''I didn’t care that Tamlin had been there, had allowed them to kill my mother and sister, that he’d come to kill me because he didn’t want to risk standing against them.''

In the end we don't know the details. Tamlin could've been tortured and tied up or whatever. Making him watch could've been a cruel form of punishment for being friends with Rhys. We don't really know until SJM graces us with Tamlin's side of the story.

3. ''It's really Tamlin's own fault that the spring court fell'' Alternatively also phrased as: 'Feyre just opened everyone's eyes to Tamlin's incompetence' and....honestly? This low key makes me question the reading comprehension of people.

Yes, Tamlin made a deal with Hybern, which was extremely risky, but the war was coming regardless (as we learn from Rhys in the first half of ACOMAF) and the spring court would be the main target because of its location next to the wall. Inviting Hybern into his lands in a trade is actually a pretty smart way to avoid a lot of death on Tamlin's part - plus he needed help to rescue Feyre and get her out of the deal she had with Rhysand (people forget that Tamlin didn't know Feyre didn't actually need rescuing from the guy that was abusing her in front of him in ACOTAR).

So yeah anyway, Feyre did several things to make the spring court fall: 1. She manipulated the solstice ceremony to make herself seem cauldron-blessed in the eyes of the people, 2. She made a sentry accuse Ianthe (who WAS doing sneaky shit) which essentially did nothing except putting Tamlin on the spot in front of Hybern, so he was kind of forced to throw the sentry under the bus. Good job Feyre, you got a poor sod whipped! But it also built resentment within the soldiers, which was her plan all along and 3. before leaving, she did this (let's just quote the whole thing):

''I had a people who had lost faith in their High Priestess. I had sentries who were beginning to rebel against their High Lord. And as a result of those things, I had Hybern royals doubting the strength of their allies here. I’d primed this court to fall. Not from outside forces—but its own internal warring. And I had to be clear of it before it happened. Before the last sliver of my plan fell into place. The party would return without me. And to maintain that illusion of strength, Tamlin and Ianthe would lie about it—where I’d gone. And perhaps a day or two after that, one of these sentries would reveal the news, a carefully sprung trap that I’d coiled into his mind like one of my snares. I’d fled for my life—after being nearly killed by the Hybern prince and princess. I’d planted images in his head of my brutalized body, the markings consistent with what Dagdan and Brannagh had already revealed to be their style. He’d describe them in detail—describe how he helped me get away before it was too late. How I ran for my life when Tamlin and Ianthe refused to intervene, to risk their alliance with Hybern. And when the sentry revealed the truth, no longer able to stomach keeping quiet when he saw how my sorry fate was concealed by Tamlin and Ianthe, just as Tamlin had sided with Ianthe the day he’d flogged that sentry …When he described what Hybern had done to me, their Cursebreaker, their newly anointed Cauldron-blessed, before I’d fled for my life … There would be no further alliance. For there would be no sentry or denizen of this court who would stand with Tamlin or Ianthe after this. After me.''

So, the sentries left Tamlin because of a lie. A fake story. Without sentries, Hybern decided to take over rather than just be guests and had a prime spot to attack the summer court in turn. Which is also why Tarquin is extremely pissed at Feyre - not Tamlin. So no, Tamlin wasn't a bad high lord. His only real mistake was ever trusting Feyre.

Sure, some argue that Feyre thought Tamlin genuinely sided with Hybern and might be a threat to the rest of Prythian, so taking him down would make sense for her even outside of petty revenge. But there's just one problem with that: Feyre is a mind reader. She could have just.....checked. lol

4. ''Tamlin didn't do anything Under the Mountain'' This one really gets my goat because it's not really true? Things Tamlin did to help Feyre: 1. He sent her away to the human realm. (People forget this, but he basically doomed his court to protect her ass - it's not his fault she came back!) 2. He made Lucien check up on her. (Yes Lucien was Feyre's friend but he still acted under Tamlin's orders!) 3. He ignored Feyre as to not rile Amarantha up even more (Come on, have you seen Amarantha? It totally makes sense) 4. He tries to get to Feyre, begging Amarantha to stop even as he is tied up, bleeding out from a stab wound to his chest that he can't heal because he has no powers - like what do you want him to do??? 4. He literally kills Amarantha the second he is able to

Also personal conspiracy detour: That music that Rhysand supposedly sent to Feyre was SO originally supposed to be Tamlin, you can't convince me otherwise. I will never not believe that this wasn't just a lazily done quick change when SJM rewrote book 1 and 2 to account for the boyfriend switcheroo. Attributing the music to Rhys makes absolutely zero sense. He's not a musical boy at all, come on! Music themes never come up with him again either! Meanwhile Tamlin played for Feyre before, is generally a musical guy COME ON! /conspiracy detour over

5. ''It's Tamlin's fault that Nesta and Elaine got turned to fae'' No. No it's not. He knew nothing about this. Ianthe did this on her own accord because Feyre told her where her sister's lived. Tamlin actually attacks (!) the King of Hybern over it (to no avail, but still).

Some people blame Tamlin for keeping Ianthe around afterwards, despite of what she did. Those people I want to refer to point number 3 in this list. Ianthe was working with Hybern. Tamlin tried to be buddies with Hybern for reasons. No, he can't just throw out Ianthe.

#thanks for coming to my tedtalk #tamlin #acotar #idk man i get that people hate him but literally everything he does gets interpreted in the most unfavorable way ever #or simply misquoted #and it's annoying ok #feel free to add to it or correct me #SORRY THIS GOT LONG I WENT OFF A LITTLE #pro tamlin #i guess

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dark-and-kawaii · 1 month

Note

Thank you for writing such good breeding kink. 🫡 This war needs good soldiers like you. Raphael and Haarlep breeding is my actual kryptonite.

Bred By The Incubus & Devil

-Separate Stories-

Haarlep x f!Tav/Reader - Raphael x f!Tav/Reader

18+

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: You are so so so welcome!!! Thank you for the love and support you beautiful babe!!! I’m happy to provide!! And because we are both weak when it comes to Raphael & Haarlep breeding I wish to bestow this gift to you!!! xoxo have a beautiful day/night!!! I hope you enjoy xoxo

⋆˙⟡♡ Raphael ♡⟡˙⋆

“Mmmm, Raphael?” You whispered, “My devil, I’m achy again.”

Your pregnancy was the result of his desire, his deliberate act of claiming you, breeding you until your form swelled with the successor he sired. The early arrival of your milk, too, unfolded by his command, for he would lavish attention upon you, coaxing the initial droplets into constant flows that ensured your thoughts were filled only with him, marking you unmistakably as his own.

Your hand drifted to one of your hard nipples, your breast so swollen it was already starting to leak. You whimpered quietly to yourself before nudging Raphael softly, “my king~” and he began to stir. You bit your lip while watching him, his hair disheveled, his brows furrowed, he was so beautiful like this, and it was a sight only for your eyes.

You leaned into his warmth, pressing a kiss against his collarbone and then the base of his neck, his scent so thick here. Your hips rocked slightly against his thigh, your heat slickening his leg.

You knew his cock was already hard, ever since you had given him the crown the thing always seemed to be hard when you were near him. It was like an unspoken instinct for him to fill you up with his seed, to make you round and fat with his child.

“Always such an eager little pup,” he teased, his voice still heavy with sleep. He moved without hurry, his movements precise and practiced as he pulled you on top of him, the way he liked you best.

It wasn't long before he was deep inside of you, filling you completely. You were still a little tight, but with your pregnancy and constant fucking, your body was quickly becoming accustomed to the intrusion.

You rocked back and forth, rolling your hips just the way he liked, the way that drove him absolutely wild. You gasped and moaned, his hand gripping your hips so tight they would certainly bruise later.

“Such an obedient mortal,” he said through gritted teeth.

You whimpered softly, his praise making you gush.

“Do you wish to cum, pup?” He asked, his voice teasingly soft.

You nodded, your hips never stopping their steady rhythm, “Ye-yes my l-love~ b-but my breasts~♡“ you panted and moaned.

He grinned, his smile devilish, “Please articulate your desires with grace. Should your request be presented with courtesy, I may be inclined to fulfill it, little mouse.”

You flushed a deep shade of red, the nickname he gave you only adding to the effect, his words were like fire on your skin, you could never get enough of them.

You took a breath, steadying yourself, before finally speaking, the words falling from your lips in a sweet song, like honey, “I- I wish for you to relieve me, my Archdevil~. I wish for you to taste the fruit of your labor, and drain the nectar from my breasts~.” Your cheeks were a deep red, embarrassed by the things he made you say.

Raphael smiled, he loved the way you submitted to him, the way you obeyed, the way you said what he wanted you to say. You were so perfect, so beautiful, and it was his will that you would remain by his side for eternity, his precious little mouse.

He had chosen you, after all.

He could have anyone, yet he chose you. Such a gift was not one to be taken lightly.

“Very well,” is all he said before you felt his tongue upon you, the flat of it gliding against the swollen skin, before his lips enclosed around the pert little bud. You moaned and writhed, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your hips moving erratically. The feeling of instant relief and ecstasy overwhelming you.

It was a taste Raphael would never grow tired of.

You tasted sweeter than the sweetest wine, better than any of the delicacies the world had to offer. His tongue swirled around your nipple, his mind drifting to the thoughts of impregnating you again after this child was born. Would you let him? You had no choice in the matter, he would take what he pleased, as he was entitled to do.

You were his and his alone.

You were his Queen.

His little mortal.

His precious, precious little mouse.

⋆˙⟡♡ Haarlep ♡⟡˙⋆

With Haarlep now accompanying you in Baldur's Gate, their presence by your side in public spaces became constant. The sight of strangers eyeing you as if you were available incensed them deeply. You belonged to Haarlep, solely theirs, and they were determined to make that clear to everyone in the city. If demonstrating their exclusive claim over you was what it took to deter prying eyes, then that was precisely what Haarlep would do...

Haarlep was relentless.

“Beg, little dove-" they hiss, hauling your legs up so easily to your chest, “beg to be filled yet again~”

“Hgh~ Haarlep! P-pleeeease~ ♡” you whined, tears rolling down your cheeks. The stretch was always unbearable at first but gods did it feel good once you grew accustomed to it.

The strong grip they had on you was definitely enough to bruise where their fingertips dug into your soft flesh, “Nhh’~ M-more, please~ F-fill me with your thick, hot cum~ ♡ P-please, I need it~ I wan’ it- Hhhngh~"

"They stare at you with such hunger-," his thick thighs heavy on your body, “but their precious savior belongs to an incubus,” Haarlep smirked, “a vile creation that feeds off of her soul and pleasure-“ another snap of their hips, “Would they still stare at you with such preying eyes if they knew what was about to be growing within you I wonder~”

Your eyes widen, a fresh wave of arousal and excitement washing over you.

"I'll make sure the whole city knows whose precious hole this is," the incubus hissed, a low chuckle in their throat, “that their hero was defiled by a fiend, impregnated by a creature of the Abyss~ How delicious indeed~”

In all truth, there's so much of Haarlep’s cum in you already, that you were probably bloated by now- at least you felt like you were. Haarlep had never been inclined towards gentleness, only on rare occasions… This was not one of those rare moments. This was about their sense of ownership over you, and it had escalated to unprecedented levels… Especially after watching a halfling man eyeing you for far too long for their liking…

Your little whines are enough to provoke a growl from the creature, sliding their stupidly large cock back into you, their thick body heavy against yours, “You are mine, my little dove~ Solely my hands have the right to claim you in such a manner, only I can elicit those cries of my name from you, hm?"

"M’yours~ All y-yours~" your hands reach out, gripping onto their biceps, trying to hold onto anything, trying to ground yourself.

Your body was shaking, the feeling of your cervix relentlessly fucked made you a whimpering mess, the only word you knew was their name, and even that was a struggle.

Your walls clench and cling to their thick, long cock when they pull back out before pushing in again, much faster, fucking their last load of cum into you again. The ring of cream around their cock and the wet, sloppy sound of their hips meeting yours was a filthy symphony.

Haarlep chuckled darkly, “You will look so radiant while bearing my offspring~"

It was a fantasy of yours, one you had only recently brought up with the creature .

"Hah- ah~ ♡!!”

It was all so perfect.

The sloppy sounds of your cunny being destroyed by an incubus, their threat- no, their promise to fill you with their hot seed until you were swollen with their child- children, your body covered in sweat, tears, and bruises. It was the life you wanted, the life you craved after bringing them back with you.

"I want all the devils of the nine hells and all the mortals in this realm to know just who you belong to!”

They noticed how your eyes fluttered back at the mere idea of bearing their child. It was a fresh fantasy Haarlep harbored and was eager to realize…

And so they did.

Again.

And again.

Three children later, your beauty and suitability for the incubus remained as impeccable as when they first made you theirs. Your abdomen, once again enlarged with another child they had sown within you, didn't diminish your allure.

Haarlep, with a smile at the vision of your curved abdomen, declared, “I will ensure that you always remember who reigns over you~”

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #haarlep #tav #raphael the cambion #raphael x tav #haarlep x tav #raphael x reader #haarlep x reader #bg3 smut

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 7 months

Text

Pretty like the wind

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n Part three! we return once more to this little tiny Azriel's book like story. ✨ thank for everyone who reads✨

warnings: lots of past trauma, Illyrian camp kind of trauma, anxiety, kids because some of you said it was a warning, I guess that's all...

Not yet proofread

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Azriel just couldn't seem to sleep. No matter what he did, no matter how much he tried to tell himself that he didn't care or that it wasn't in any way directly related to any of his doings, the spymaster still struggled to find his peace. And if it wasn't in the sleep, then his thoughts would just occasionally wander to that night you touched him. He wanted to remember how your fingers felt against his skin. Was your hand warm? Or cold? He was sure your skin was soft. Had to be.

But all Azriel was met with were your terrified eyes. The tears streaming down your cheeks. The choked-out sob you held inside. The way you turned away from him and ran. He called for you. Tried to, at least. But you vanished. Blended seamlessly into the dark and stayed like that ever since. And here he was feeling guilty once more. Proven once more that he wasn't indeed a good man. His desires made him blind. He chose himself. Time after time, put his needs first. He stepped on others' boundaries just so he could gain something.

Azriel ran a hand through his hair. He's been coming to the communal ever since. Frankly, it's only been a couple of days. But Azriel was growing restless because you weren't here. You weren't singing with the kids. Weren't smiling at them. Every time he looked at the bright smiles that flooded the room, Azriel had flashes of horror piercing through them. The camps. The cries. The blood. Suddenly, this place made so much more sense. It was a place for Illyrian females and their children. A haven. A sanctuary to heal. To let the wounds scab over. Every smile Azriel saw now held a bigger meaning. It wasn't just a smile. It was the smile of a survivor. Someone who was beaten down. Walked over. Made into nothing more than a punching bag. But now. Underneath, this roof was slowly flourishing because of the loving hearts that surrounded it.

One of the shadows moved to whisper into Azriel's ear, making the male turn his head to the side quickly. "Axel", the spymaster breathed out. The little boy instantly let go of the priestess's hand. "Soldier", he breathed happily. "That's my friend; I'll be okay", Axel nodded his head at the lady, who frowned slightly but still chose to walk on with the rest of the children.

Azriel suddenly felt a wave of panic rush through him. Axel was left with him. A kid was left in Azriel's care. He had never truly taken care of one. Sure, Nyx was his nephew, but Azriel had never even held the boy. A tug on his pants made Azriel look down, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Have you seen...", Azriel started, but was quick to realize that he had never asked for your name. "Zofie is in a dancing class and Y/N... I'm not quite sure", Y/N, the name, ran through Azriel's bloodstream faster than lightning. Arranging and changing chemicals in his body. "She walked us to class this morning and...", but Axel halted, his face changing as he crossed his tiny arms over his chest. "Did you upset her? Because that would be rude".

A breath hitched in Azriel's throat. When had kids gotten so smart? And why was a five-year-old making him sweat more than a camp leader? "There was a misunderstanding", Azriel said calmly, "Hence, why I'm looking for her". Axel watched him for a moment, then nodded his head. "She's been crying a lot, but she said we shouldn't worry about it", the boy shrugged his shoulders. A pang ripped through Azriel's chest. Crying. You've been crying. Was he the reason for it? Had he awakened an unknown memory? Had he already made you give up on him? Had he already made you not want to deal with him? In a matter of weeks. He had once again become a problem.

"Don't be sad", Azriel felt a smaller hand reach up to grasp his palm just like the very first time. He flinched slightly, not used to that part of him being touched so effortlessly. "We usually have tea and biscuits after class", Axel smiled at Azriel fondly, his messy black hair reminding him so much of how Cassian used to look when he was just a boy himself. "Lead the way, champ", Azriel said, urging Axel. The boy lit up, walking with his head high now that Azriel was walking beside him.

They never really tell you how badly the triggers of the past can jab you. But then, maybe they don't know. Or maybe the pain one endures is so great that it leaves them speechless, barely breathing, just about managing to patch the reopening scars. It's been months since you've been brought back to that place. Back to that night. The pinching coldness of the snow beneath your bare feet. The never-ending screeching. The hands...

"Find the light without it. Search for it", Padme's voice made you draw a sharp inhale. Rapidly blinking, you wrapped your hands around your torso. "Did the nightmares retune?", the high priestess asked you, looking down at the paper in front of her. "No", you said firmly. A lie. One you had mastered delivering - a wolf beneath a lamb's coat. "Well, then we are done here for today", she smiled at you. If Padme hadn't found you in that corridor, all shaking and tense, you would have been able to escape these mind-curing sessions.

"Are you fit enough to continue with field work?", her words were colder, but then they always were when the topic of assignments arose. "I can go right now if you insist", you said, throwing her a look that challenged her stare. Padme held it till she was satisfied, then nodded. "Return to your duties, sweetheart; I'll get you the papers tomorrow". You bowed your head just like you always did. You were so thankful for the dimly lit corridor and the way they hid your trembling hands.

Hands... You had felt Azriel's fingerprints on your skin. You had felt his warmth. An odd song it sang. But then, as if out of nowhere, all the walls came trembling down. Dragging you down. Pulling you back to the night you wished to forget. Wipe it out of your mind. Never return to it. Even if it made you, even if it had shaped the very soul that flicked within you. You still wished a night so dark would never fall upon you again.

With a deep breath, you welcomed the air into your lungs. Slowly dragging your feet down the stairs. Down and down. Clawing at the last bits of strength for the kids. For the females that might want to bask in the warmth you always carried, your feet halted the moment you were about to cover the last handful of stone steps leading to the kitchen.

"You're mixing it wrong", the voice growled slightly. Specks of child-like frustration laced it. And you knew that voice. That voice was well ingrained in your brain. "I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to eat the raw batter", your heart skipped a beat at the sound of the reply. You quickly rushed down the last steps that separated you from the clear view of the place. It couldn't be. There was no way, you told yourself. Just as your eyes fell on the scene in front of you.

"And I'm pretty sure you had never made cookies before", Axel shook his head, reaching for his spoon as he shoved, or more like, tried to move Azriel's hand away from the bowl. They were both covered in flour. You doubted that you wanted to know why an egg stain ran down the wall. Or why was one of the trays burned to a crisp? Something within your chest stretched. Bent and stirred deep within you.

You were sure you would have watched the two of them till the last piece of dough was molded into an odd shape if not for the black, tiny blobs that curled your way. Tiny creatures of the dark yet so full of life. They rubbed against your palms, twirled in the ends of your hair, and brushed the sides of your cheeks. A silent: Are you okay? The unease that left them the moment you nodded slowly.

That's when you met Azriel's eyes across the kitchen. A piece of dough now forgotten in his hand. One that Axel was more than happy to snatch as he formed and misshaped a circle. Neither of you spoke. But the gaze you held was stronger than any conversation could ever be. Words often failed. Or led to unnecessary assumptions. Eyes, on the other hand, were the mirror of one's soul. Eyes could never lie. Forever doomed to give away the truth that lay beneath.

"You should put your cookie here", Axel said, pointing to the tray until his own golden eyes followed Azriel's gaze, a big smile spreading across the boy's face as he hopped off the stool Azriel had pushed closer to the counter for him. Leaping into your hands, his dirty hands and clothes smearing against the white you wore. "I see you have gotten yourself quite a company", your fingers lingered beneath the boy's chin, carefully guiding his face up so he would meet your gaze. "I told Azriel about the cookies we make after class. Can you believe he eats cookies?", the excitement in his voice made you crack up a smile. "That seems like it's secret information", you muttered, and Axel's face grew wide as you pressed your finger to your lips. From the back of your eyes, you could see Azriel slowly shaking his head, but a light smile still lingered.

"Why don't you wash up, huh?", you crouched down, cupping the boy's face, before one of your hands brushed against one of his lip wings, threading golden threads there. Azriel's face went ashen. How did he miss that? The off-balanced leather. The twisted boning. His hand clenched the end of the counter, and he was almost sure he would snap the marble just from the sheer clench his fingers had on it. How many more horrors were unknown to him? What else had these people endured?

"You mean a whole deal to him", your voice sliced through Azriel's fading vision. Making him blink a couple of times. Slowly pulling the world around him to focus. "He already has drawings of you. A mighty worrier...", you let out a low chuckle as you reached for the dirty bowl submerging it beneath the water. "But then maybe I have myself to blame", Azriel felt the cold pain that lashed with your words. In all honesty, Azriel was desperate to say something. Make this better. Somehow make the pain that now drowned you back away.

"I told him stories of a foreign soldier. Who wasn't like the males in...", and you didn't have to finish. Azriel knew. Knew what you were referring to. The sadistic manners some of them bore even if Rhys had banned any wing clipping. "I'm sorry", was all Azriel managed to say. His voice faded to nothing almost immediately. He knew those words had little meaning for pain like that.

"Our minds clashed that night in the attic", the spymaster's words sent a shiver down your spine. You stared ahead of yourself. Not allowing yourself to look at him. You had worn that mask of strength before. This male now standing to the side of you. This man had watched you crumble way too many times already. "I'm sorry that I disrespected this place. I disrespected you", an ache in Azriel's chest eased as he spoke, "I want to learn more about the sanctuary. I want to make my time here meaningful". The bowl in your hands nearly slipped out of your hands. Your body - still the statue. "I can't do any of that if you and I are fighting this silent battle, can't I?", the question twisted something deep within you, but you still blurted in a cold tone, "There are many more people who can guide you". And Azriel didn't doubt it, but at least he still said, "But no one quite like you". Your eyes darted to look at him like that. Your eyes meet his. And then and there, it felt as if you two had seen each other for the first time. Looked and saw.

With a silent agreement settled, Azriel followed you up the stairs toward the room the kids shared. A plate full of cookies in one hand, his shadows holding four glasses full of milk. He questioned your choice to go up the moment you presented it. For Zofie. The hunting gaze of the fear she carried still followed Azriel's mind. But he knew that Axel was waiting. For some reason, the thought of letting him down now felt worse than losing a battle.

"I'm considered their guardian", your voice bounced off the empty corridor. "All orphans have one for the transitioning period", Azriel felt the way you cringed at the words transitional. Even to him, it felt off-putting. Jabbing straight at the wound that bled the most. You told him about Padme. The laws of the sanctuary followed the priestess who ran it. For the most part, at least. Azriel knew that was only the crumbs. But he was glad to learn at least that. To understand at least a small portion.

"Are they still in that period?", Azriel finally asked. He had fallen into a comfortable pace next to you. "Technically, no, but... we bonded too much. I couldn't bring myself to separate from them", you said quietly. As if you were in a way ashamed of the world that left your mouth. He wondered how many kids had been in their place before them. After? His shadows hadn't sensed the presence of anyone new, but he was sure that the mass of faces was growing still, especially knowing the situation in the mountain camps.

Azriel wanted to say just how much it amazed him. The way this place radiated happiness even with the trauma everyone bore. How wonderful was the work you did here. But you had leaned closer to the door. Ear placed on the wooden door as you listened in. Azriel stilled at that; his Illyrian hearing offered him a chance to peer in as well, yet he doubted it was needed. The shrieks and cackling could be heard from where he stood.

He knew it was Axel and Zofie. His mind was engraved with the sound of their laughter from the communal. Yet Azriel couldn't help the dread that pooled in his stomach as you opened the door. The voices halted, but only until the kids were met with your presence. Azriel tried to fold his wings behind him tighter in hopes of appearing smaller. He had never imagined himself doing any of that before, but here he was. The spymaster's eyes instantly landed on the drawing of a winged male standing on top of the mountain with a raised sword. There was more than one too. All plastered on the walls. The blue dots no doubt resemble his sapphires. But... Azriel's heart skipped a beat for a moment. He hadn't worn his Illyrian leather here, so how would he have been able to...

But that familiar force launched at his feet. Azriel's hand instantly reached to mess with the head of black hair. "You came", Axel breathed. "Wouldn't you agree that I earned a cookie as well?", The spymaster teased the youngling slightly, earning a laugh that warmed the deepest parts of his bones. Yet Azriel's eyes scanned the room till he saw a tiny hand gripping your skirt, her body hidden behind your frame, only a tiny side of Zofie's face visible to him.

As Azriel kneeled, he wondered what horrors she had to endure beside him to fear a male so much. He knew this skittishness towards him was the grave he had dug himself, but she—that tiny girl—was a survivor too. Too young to bear a burden so deep. But hadn't Azriel bet too little too? Azriel found Zofie's eyes, and as frightened as she was, she held an unfalteringly tight gaze. Azriel handed a cookie to one of his shadows. The tiny creature slowly lured towards the girl. Zofie hid further behind you, yet her curiosity was too strong, and she peaked almost immediately.

"I can't promise that I haven't mixed up salt with sugar, but... well, you'll have to tell me if they are edible", Azriel said gently. He had a low, deep voice, but it still felt like velvet as it rolled down his tongue. Zofie spared him a look before her eyes fixed on the shadow right in front of her, tiny blobs holding the sugar cookie for her. And to Azriel's surprise, she took it. She took it and dove back to her hiding place. The shadow moved to glimpse over your side, but Azriel pulled it back. "Is it good?", you asked the girl softly. Azriel could hear the munching sound—a light tug pulled at the side of his lips. "Well, I didn't make them; Azriel and Axel did. You should tell them your thoughts", you said to the girl softly. Azriel hadn't hoped for anything in return from her. The fact that she had taken the cookie was more than enough for him. He was going to gain her trust slowly. He was willing to do so. Try. A tiny hand moved from behind you. And Azriel caught a glimpse of a tiny thumbs-up that greeted him. And something shifter within him, something that would stay with him for the rest of his life.

#azriel acotar #azriel acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel spymaster #azriel imagine #azriel acotar x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you

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xmalereader · 2 months

Text

Simon Riley x High Ranking! Male Reader

☆ — MASTERLIST — ☆

Requested: Could I request a Ghost x male reader story. Male reader is also in the Task Force 141 as a high ranking officer. He never goes out on the field with the others. Ghost and male reader know each other for a long time and are together. (You can decide if they are married , etc). So reader is very shy and has an innocent and introverted aura. (Wears glasses, barely talks etc.) That’s also why they all were surprised when they found out that Ghost and Reader are together, because Ghost is… well Ghost. So, the reader defects to Makarov and because of the reader Makarov succeeds. So the 141 ‘hates’ reader and sees him as a traitor. So Ghost has to decide, if he is loyal to the Task Force or his lover. [You can decide what happens of course and also if reader survives and etc. Just don’t make a twist were reader goes back to 141 or kills Makarov :) ]

WARNINGS/ CONTENT: Language, angst, hurt/no comfort, specific details to reader, Soap being soap, mentions of Makarov, MW3 mentions, slight fluff, more dialogue, betrayal, simon is ruined.

WC: 3.4K

TAGS: @dzeilan

NOTES: I may have over done it with this fix but at least I got it finished 😂 but anyways hope you enjoy this request! I tried my best to keep it angsty and tempted to make a second part but for now I’m putting it in the maybe drafts. I decided to end it in a semi cliff hanger!

Task Force 141 was monitored and by someone above Price. Not many people knew who it was but they didn’t hear stories about the man being ruthless to his team, always giving them the hardest missions and dealing with the most deadliest and dangerous people. Everyone thought figured that he was a cold blooded man who stayed cooped up in his own office, never leaving or joining the field like the rest of the others. That’s. how everyone saw him.

When in reality he was the total opposite which surprised the 141.

In reality he was quiet and only spoke with authority when meeting up with the team, but when alone he was very closed up and not very social with the others, keeping to himself and not getting close with the others. Y/n had heard the gossip floating around about him and usually ignored it. He was a higher ranking than anyone else and could have easily found a way to stop the murmuring, but he wasn’t that power drunk to do something stupid.

Only his team knew what he was really like, he’s spent enough time with Price that he’s warmed up to the captain, always addressing him as ‘sir’ each time they meet only for Y/n to remind Price that he doesn’t need to call him that whenever they were alone and considered the man as a friend. Price was actually the one who approached him about building a team of his own, wanting his approval and guidance.

Y/n was surprised by this and intrigued by what he had in mind. When Price showed him the files of the people he wanted in his team, he can’t help but hide his small grin when his eyes land on a familiar name, finding it funny that he would be the boss to his own deadly boyfriend that everyone feared, wearing that scary mask that only made his silence much more deadly and intimidating for others.

He had told Price that he wanted to review the files first before giving an official approval, getting the time that he needed to review each soldier that he chose and memorizing every little thing about them and finding them impressive by the second. It didn’t take long for him to approval Price’s team and granting the man permission to gather them up and move on with a mission regarding Hassan during that time.

As much as Y/n hated being out in public and in front of others he had no choice but to be present during the time that Hassan was terrorizing the world. Many other soldiers had a chance to finally see who the scary man was only to grow confused when they saw him for the first time, wearing glasses while he squints at some paper work and maps, trying to figure out Hassans next location or if could find any other information regarding the man.

He would stay up all day and night looking for anything to help him, cooping himself up in his office with papers scattered around and computer opened as he did his own research. How he received a high ranking title he will never know, but his skills brought him this far.

Those quiet nights when everyone is sleeping a shadow creeps inside his own room, hovering over him from where he sat. He can feel their presence and doesn’t move his eyes from the computer. “If you are here to force me into bed, then I will have to decline.” He speaks up, hearing a familiar chuckle and tilts his head back to find Simon standing over him, hands on the back of his chair as he wore that skull mask over his face, gear gone and leaving him in black clothing and a jacket.

“You’ve been working day and night with no sleep.”

“How do you know I haven’t slept?” Y/n raised a brow and lowers his head to focus back on his computer screen only for Simon to place his fingers around his neck, using his index finger to tilt his head back in a gentle manner as he stares down at the man.

“You have bags under your eyes.” He moves his fingers up his cheek and grazed his finger under his glasses near his eye, noticing the lack of sleep from his own lover. “You know I can’t sleep.”

Simon lets him go and sighs as he watched his lover focus back on his work and moving maps around as Simon watched him from behind. “You won’t lose anything if you sleep.”

“But Hassan—“

“Is out of sight. For now.” Simon cuts in, using his own authority voice on his lover in order to get some sense into him. The two have been dating for about a year now, keeping it on the down low and preventing anyone from finding out. Y/n over ranked Simon and doesn’t know how the others would react when finding out that he’s dating their deadly weapon. He knows that Simon cares for him and his health and wants to make sure that he at least gets some rest.

“Fine…” He mumbled out and with that Simon reaches over to close his computer the room grows dim and the only light shinning through the window is the moonlight. “Time for bed.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“You sure act like one.” Said Simon, chuckling at his own words which makes Y/n roll his eyes and cracks a tired smile. He gets off his chair and follows Simon to bed as the other soldier helps him out by removing his glasses first and setting them on the desk with the rest of his stuff and gets him into bed.

These nights are special to them since its the only time that they are able to spend time together without getting caught, having to sneak around like high school teenagers in order to avoid any trouble, but sooner or later they’d have to let the rest of their team know. As he snuggled up against Simon he lets out a deep sigh, feeling exhausted from all the work his mind was all over the place thinking about the mission and the things that could be happening without their knowledge, but they had no ability into knowing it.

“Stop thinking.”

“Can’t help it.” Y/n mumbled out in the dead of night.

The silence of the base was killing him and he hated it. “Your thoughts are loud.”

“You telling me that you can read minds?” Y/n raised a brow at Simon while chuckling. “If I could read minds I would have gotten to Hassan by now.” He did have a point.

Y/n lies his head on Simons chest and taps his fingers against his stomach as he thinks. “I just worry for everyone and I’d feel guilty it something happened to you and everyone else.” When Y/n received such a high ranking he didn’t expect the amount of stress to come with it since he was in charge of his own team and deciding the fate of the mission. When he got his first team he had to take multiple risks, almost costing him the lives of his own soldiers which devastated him.

There were times that he wanted to leave his rank to get rid of the guilt that he felt only to learn that he couldn't’ always save everyone even if he tried.

“Not everyone can be saved, Y/n. It takes one life to save millions.”

But it also takes one mistake to risk millions.

After last nights reassurance, Y/n is able to work a lot better all thanks to Simon in forcing him to sleep. Tracking their target was getting easier, finding the locations and sending in the proper help in order to get rid of the missiles that were lost. It wasn’t until Shepherds betrayal that they were separated.

Y/n had lost communication with his team and Simon, stuck back in base where the shadow company was taking over Alejandro’s people. He caught on quickly when chaos erupted in base, collecting his things quickly and hiding them in the vents and getting his own gun ready when facing the shadow company.

Even though Y/n looked like an innocent man due to how quiet he is around others he was also deadly when others were in danger getting through the halls and gunning down anyone who came after him, not hesitating to fight back as he sneaks around the halls and onto the second floor where he makes his escape, he uses one of the shadow companies uniforms to get through the base without being noticed, making it through the gates and towards their radio station.

He uses it to communicate with the rest of his team, checking up on them and hoping that they are still alive. His anxiety spiked when he doesn’t get a response fearing the worst has happened to Simon, fearing that he’s lost the one person he loved. He wasn’t one for crying, but the lack of response was bringing him to tears, close to giving up and heading back down to hunt Graves down.

“Are you crying?”

Y/n gasps, turning around quickly with his gun out when coming face to face with Soap. “Soap.” He sighs in relief to see him alive as he lowers his gun, ready to scold the man only to see Simon climbing over the wall along with Rudy. His eyes widen when the land on Simon. “Simon…” He shoves Soap aside who's left flabbergasted and makes a beeline towards Simon, not hesitating to hug the man and sniffling against his shoulder. “You dumb bastard, why didn’t you answer? I thought you were dead!” He was mad at Simon for making him worry.

Simon smiles under his mask and warps his own arms around Y/n, relieved to see him too. “We got caught up trying to get here.” He responds back, pulling away and cup his cheeks and cleans his tears away unaware of the audience.

“Uh, what the hell is going on?” Soap finally decides to speak up by this shocking discovery.

It wasn’t until after they rescued Alejandro that Y/n tells his team about his and Simons relationship when regrouping. He expected Soap to be shocked by the news while Gaz and Price technically already knew about the relationship but never said anything about it until further confirmed. Y/n couldn’t be happier to have them.

“So what do we do about Graves?”

Everyone turns to look at Y/n waiting for him to make the final call only for Y/n to surprise everyone by his response.

“Do whatever you want.”

He lets Price take the lead on this one, coming up with plans to get rid of Graves and his men after what he did to them. Y/n remains at the safe house along with the others, guiding them through the coms where he was safer and giving out clear orders on Graves location when they all went back to base.

The entire day was hectic, taking down Graves and Hassan on the same day and recovering the last missile gaining a victory. Everyone was finally able to relax and head back home to rest before being called out to another mission. Things were fine until they weren’t.

After a year since their last mission, Y/n had spent most of his time at base, helping out with the simple things and helping Price out as always. Until he received anonymous messages through his private number the only one who knew his number was Simon along with Price and the others and no one else. He received the text the day that Simon went out with the others for a drink, staying back home to relax for a bit until eh got that message.

He was about to ignore it until private information about him and his entire team was sent to him, threatening him to listen or else his friends faced the consequences. Y/n would have taken action to find out who was messaging him and take them down quickly only to realize that this person knew far more than anyone about him and Simon. He was forced to keep these message hidden from Simon if he wanted to prevent a lose.

Y/n knew that Simon was smart and would slowly grow suspicious by his constant phone checking and the amount of times that he’d flinch out of fear when receiving those messages. Simon wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, especially with his lover but the amount of time that he kept his distance was slowly irritating him.

Simon was able to corner him in his office when back at base after finding out about Makarovs escape. “Somethings wrong.” He points out, getting Y/n’s attention as he leans back against the wall that he’s caged in. “Nothings wrong.” Y/n couldn’t allow Simon to know that was responsible for Makarovs escape at the prison.

“You’ve been distant and quiet.”

“I’m always quiet.”

“Not this quiet.” Simon knew him well enough to see the smallest changes.

Y/n’s anxiety grows by the second as Simon looks him dead in the eyes. “I’m worried about Makarov.” He blurts out, trying to throw Simon off from his real worry. “The most dangerous man escaped and we can be facing something far bigger and I’m worried on what we have planned.” He continues on, noticing how Simon finally relaxes when getting an answer even though it wasn’t the truth.

“Will get him and stop him before anything else happens.”

“And if we can’t?” Y/n wants to tell Simon the truth, but he can’t risk losing him. “We will.” He feels his gloved fingers caress his cheek as a way of soothing his worries.

“Now lets figure out how to take down Makarov.”

Y/n spent the last hour listening to Price form out the plan, memorizing every little detail in order to report it back to Makarov. It took him some time to figure out that the man he’s been communicating with was none other than Makarov, threatening him and his friends for information about their plans to stopping him. As guilty as he felt doing this behind their backs, behind Simon’s back he had no choice but to do it.

After their meet up he’d find a way to communicate with the Russian man sending him everything he knew about their plans only to get a response back from with a notification of millions of dollars being transferred to his banking account. That pushes him over the edge, his anger getting to him as he throws his phone against the wall, smashing it into pieces as he groans in anger. He was doing this to save his friends not for money and yet Makarov goes and pushes all the right buttons.

Because of Makarov the transfer was shown under the list of information trading. When Simon and Soap were sent to interrogate Milena about Makarovs next location they were expecting themselves to find some answers only to come up with more questions when Y/n’s name shows up on the list.

Soap is the first to point it out to Simon when it shows up on the computer. The two refuse to believe that Y/n had been communicating with Makarov only for Milena to laugh at the two.

“Why do you think Makarov isn’t here? It’s all thanks to your little birdie on the inside.” Her own lips form a mischievous grin when Soap glanced over to Simon who remained quiet under his mask, clearly processing everything and denying the fact that his own lover would turn their backs on them. On him.

“You’re wrong.”

Milena raised a brow as she crossed her arms. “Am I?’ She questions. “He told Makarov that you were coming for him, told him about the plans and the bombings and now he knows about the stations.”

Simon stops himself from killing the women, not believing a word she’s saying only to think back to their previous failed missions. Every time they were close to getting Makarov he always escaped them clearly finding a way around the problem as if he knew about them. Simon left the island fuming, anger boiling inside of him as they flew back to Makarovs last destination a base hidden in the train station.

Soap can tell that Simon isn’t happy about the discovery of Y/n betraying them and working for Makarov. He knows not to ask about it since the man was already too upset to even talk about it and focused on their arrival. Simon communicated with Price and Gaz about the location and to meet them there.

Getting down to the station was chaos due to Makarovs soldiers trying to kill them resulting into him and his team getting separated and laving Simon on his own as he takes down as many soldiers as he can. From the corner of his eyes he spots Makarov getting through the station. “Makarov spotted.” He speaks through his coms, alerting the rest of his team.

“Take the shot!” He hears Price shout from the other end getting permission to kill Makarov.

Before Simon could take the shot he’s shoved to the side when the other side of the station explodes, ruble collapsing around him as he groans and leans back against a wall. His ears are ringing by how loud the explosive was and the amount of shouting he hears through his coms is ignored as he tries to get up, feeling pain shot up from his arm makes him wince, realizing that he’s injured. The place is merely collapsing and knows that he has to get out of the station before its to late.

As he gets up from the ground he hears a giant grown across from him, holding his gun up as his eyes land on one of Makarovs soldiers. He was to pissed off to care about their injures and cocks his gun only to stop when the soldier coughs harshly, reaching up to remove their own helmet and mask, revealing Y/n’s face.

Simon froze when his eyes land on him.

Y/n groans and placed a hand over his abdomen where he feels pain and turns to his side, trying to get up only to gasp when he hears the sound of a gun cocking, looking over his shoulder to face Simon.

The two are frozen in place unable to move by the realization in their faces. Y/n wants to speak up to defend himself from everything but knows that he can’t not after what he’s done. He slowly moves to stand, hand still on his abdomen as he keeps his eyes on Simon and a hand out in surrender.

“Simon…”

“Don’t.” Simons voice is harsh, hand tightening around his gun.

Y/n expects that tone as he shuts his own mouth. It wasn’t until rumbling is heard, the walls around them were about to collapse and they had to get out before it was to late for them. “The place is going to collapse we have to go.” Y/n tries to convince Simon to follow him out of the subway station if they didn’t want to get crushed.

“Simon.”

“Why?” Simon finally speaks up. “Why should I go anywhere with you?”

Y/n swallows nervously. “Look I can explain once we get out of here.” He takes a step forward to try and pry the gun from Simon only to freeze when Simon holds it up, keeping it pointed at him. Y/n knows that Simon won’t kill him if he wanted to he would have already.

“You were helping Makarov you helped him escape you helped him do all of this.” Simon nods at their surroundings the place was full of faint screams of panic from the citizens and the sound of his teammates voices were close by as they shouted for Simon. The place was falling apart all because of Makarov.

Y/n’s breath was picking up, grown into panic as he quickly tries to explain himself. “I didn’t know it was Makarov he was going to kill you—I didn’t have a choice—!”

“How long have you been lying to me?”

His breath hitched when hearing Simon’s words, unable to respond back as he opens and closes his mouth, words caught in his throat. He’s been helping Makarov since the beginning of everything and telling Simon wouldn’t change his mind about him.

Not matter what he says or what he tries it wouldn’t work. He’s broken the trust between them the trust that Simon gave him only to see it crumble away. Y/n takes a cautious step forward, ready to apologize for his mistakes only for the place to crumble, giving them both the time to escape. Only this time they don’t escape together.

#male reader #Simon Riley x male reader #Simon Riley x reader #Simon Riley #ghost x male reader #ghost #simon riley mw2 #ghost mw3 #hurt no comfort #angst

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puff0o0 · 13 days

Text

Hes so goofy I literally love him

(credits to @niktocallofduty for the image !!)

It pains me how underrated Nikto is, he's such an amazing character with an amazing storyline. AND HIS VOICELINESS??? AUUUGHHSHSHSHSHSHHDHD

So little content for a guy with such an interesting backstory. Like he was a CIA agent??? and he was captured?? escaped with his life and then became this brave soldier that never stopped fighting to protect those who can't protect themselves??? the torture is sad though :( my pookie bear did NOT deserve that

I love how they wrote his lines and I LOVE the voice they chose for him. It fits him so perfectly it's unbelievable, Gideon emery did such an amazing job with voicing him

His personality is hard to analyze (because he has many) and I really wish we got to see more of him so we could see more of how he's like. The only thing that is helping me is researching DID (which is what I belive he has, if I'm wrong please correct me) and colliding his canon personality with it

its so worth it in the end though

hes so pretty

his eyes are gorgeous

i sob everytime

Not a single time where he looks bad in all these images

hes so perfect

I also feel like so much content can be done with him and it's not limited to one category. he is such a interesting yet complex character and honestly deserves the world for all he's been through 😢

ANYWAYS, SMALL HCs

☆ He is the type of man to distance himself from you when he's upset so he doesn't take it out on you. Most of the time it's him taking a long shower or spending time driving around.

☆ He doesn't really go anywhere except sometimes sports bars, but that's a rare occasion as he doesn't wanna leave you alone too long

☆ but he can't be perfect all the time, sometimes he snaps and it leads to him taking some of it out

☆ He understands when you don't accept his apology and that you were hurt by his words and he makes sure he does everything he can to make up for it and prevent it from happening again

☆ he never wants to hurt you nor does he mean to hurt you. He tries his hardest to be away from you while he's having an episode

☆ he adores cuddling but he will never say it outright. He doesn't even correlate it to the word, just seeing it as a means of showing affection. His favorite way is holding you at night on top of him, almost as if you were a weighted blanket for him. ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡

☆ You always wake up away from him or without him as he's already up

☆ He'll wake you up with breakfast in bed sometimes

☆ He makes you breakfast in the morning, usually he picks but if you want something specific he'll try to make it. He has to practice it if he's never made it before though 𖦹 ´ ᯅ ` 𖦹

☆ His favorite meals are Kasha or Blini ₍^ >ヮ<^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ

☆ His nicknames for you are: Куколка (doll), принцесса (princess), драгоценная (precious), Родная (sweetheart), and ангел (angel) ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

#wishes ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･#cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #Nikto x reader #nikto x reader #Andre nikto x reader #andre nikto x reader #Nikto x you #nikto x you #Andre Nikto x you #andre nikto x you #Nikto #nikto #Andre Nikto #Andre nikto #andre nikto

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bigassmoonchild · 7 months

Text

Hoops

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: None of your squad was ready to be a part of a mission. You knew they weren't, they were just kids who were getting ready for a life of misery. So you went instead. Missions never go right with the 141, and as much as Simon didn't want you to join you had to. It seemed you couldn't stray from an argument with him for too long.

Content Tags: Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Canon Typical Violence, Missions Gone Wrong, Mentions of dead bodies, Medical Inaccuracies, Arguments, Simon Realizing His Feelings For You, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No Use of Y/N

A/N: Here it is! Chapter 9 of Maple Syrup! I would've thought you guys would prefer the smut, but it almost seems like you like the angst more?? Here y'all go, enjoy! As always, content is under the cut and my asks are open!

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

"Is anybody on your training squad ready to be placed in a mission yet?" You sighed deeply, running your hands down your face. Shaking your head, you looked up at the man leading the operation. You didn't know his name, and quite honestly you didn't want to.

He looked away, thinking. "My last squad? Maybe there would've been one person strong enough for it, but this one? They didn't even know how to go about placing a tourniquet, let alone stitching someone up on the battlefield," you told him. You didn't want to be sitting here, busy with trying to make sure you didn't send any of your squad out too soon to be ready for the actual fight.

All you wanted was to be curled up in your nest, trying to figure out where the hell Simon had run off to this time. For the last two weeks Simon had seemingly disappeared, not even having lunch or dinner with you.

"Do you think that you're capable of going on this mission?"

"I'm not allowed on missions anymore, I thought?" You were appalled. Stunned. You hadn't ever thought of returning to the field, not since you'd become mated. "Aren't there a bunch of hoops to jump through if you wanted to have me return to the field?"

He shrugged. "I have enough of a reputation that I'd be more than capable of getting this through the hoops," he told you.

The next morning, as you were just about to take a sip of the coffee you had oh so carefully made, the door slammed open and made you jump, spilling it just between your legs. You stared at the coffee splattered on the floor before looking up.

Simon. You went to talk, opening your mouth to say something when he interrupted. "You're not going on that mission," your brows furrowed. Of all things he could've fucking said to you, for the first time in weeks, that's what he chose?

"I don't recall you having a say, considering you come and go in my life," you snapped at him. He looked almost taken aback at your words. "When you finally make a decision about whether you want to be in my life or not, then you'll get a say in these things," you told him.

He looked away, closing his eyes tightly before opening them and staring at you. "Last time I checked I was your Alpha,"

"Last time I checked an Alpha didn't abandon his Omega because he wasn't good at talking," you snapped, standing up. "Now, if you'd ever so kindly leave, I have work to do. If you come back, I'm expecting an apology, explanation or both," you pointed at the door.

Mouth agape, he stared at you, blinking rapidly. You pointed at the door again and he turned, not looking back as he walked out and shut the door softly.

You sat down, hands holding your head as you gave little gasps, trying to breathe through the panic you felt. Tears were dripping through from your eyes, throat burning.

Jesus fucking Christ, Simon Riley was going to be the death of you.

Being back in a plane was a little unsettling, even if you had gone through a quick two-week training session, to get you back up to speed, they said. They taught you basic combat skills, got you comfortable with simple weaponry. Made you a soldier, at least once again.

The bumping of bodies together because of how close everyone was. You could feel the weight of the gun you were holding and the packs you were holding, filled with medical supplies.

People were speaking loudly, some through their radios and some just between each other. You could see Soap and Price sitting just across from you, Price leaned in to listen to what Soap had been saying. Ghost and Gaz were on the other flight, with another squad who had another medic.

The flight shook, tremoring with the turbulence, shaking like you almost felt like you were. Your hands were grasping at the straps holding you in place, and you saw Price press into his radio to be heard on the team channel.

"Alpha Team, drop in 5, be ready," he spoke and you nodded at them, listening to a few others give their affirmatives. The plane shook, you could hear from inside the shots it was taking. Hopefully, it would remain intact enough to get you to the landing point and be okay to extract you if need be.

Alarms began blaring, people stood and moved, seeming to try and run away. You stood yourself, glancing over at Price and Soap to try and figure it out.

"We're jump-" Black. Everything was black and as you came to it felt like your body was on fire. Everything hurt and you could feel that sticky wetness covering parts of you. You moved your fingers and toes, trying to make sure nothing was wrong.

As you sat up, you looked around, feeling for your in-ear mic. It was there and you smacked at it a few times before it turned back on, albeit slightly staticky.

"-nyone there? I repeat, is anyone there?" Gaz?

"I'm here, we went down," you spoke, struggling to your feet as you looked around. "I'm going around to find any survivors or see if people are dead, send for extraction. I'll let you know the injured count," you tossed some rubble off of a person, feeling for a pulse.

Nothing. The next person was cut through the abdomen, their eyes glossy as they stared into the smoking sky. From what you could see on his uniform, he was just a boy.

The next person was blinking up at you, their leg sliced all the way through, nothing but flesh and blood splattering it. You slid on a tourniquet, giving the soldier a small smile and some reassurances.

You hadn't been out for too long, you'd realized. If that soldier was still alive, even with a lost limb, it had been seconds or minutes at most. You reached for you mic before hearing a voice.

"Sit still, I'm coming to give you backup," Ghost. You shook your head, crawling through more debris as you found Soap.

"You're going to want to bring as many people that know how to treat severe wounds," you told him. For what seemed like seconds, you worked to stitch up the major wounds on Soap, closing up an artery.

When you found Price, you became horrified. There was rubble covering him, his body limp, blood surrounding him. You moved to pull the rubble off of him, unable to do it because of the weight. Instead, you jumped to stitch up the wounds you could see, listening to the calls of Ghost and the others.

"Over here!" You shouted at them, waving your flashlight. When they were finally able to get there, you started ordering people around. "I need at least two people helping me search and fixing people up. Price is here, someone needs to get the rubble off of him," you watched as Ghost and Gaz pulled the rubble off, moving it away and you jumped in to tourniquet the wound.

With each stitch, you could feel yourself falling more and more into fear. His artery was almost severed, and you needed to spend more time on him. You looked up and found Ghost hovering over you.

"How far out is extraction?"

"Few minutes, maybe 10 max,"

"They need to get here faster, or there are going to be a lot of deaths," you told him, watching as he reached for an actual radio, talking into it and nodding. He'd ended up getting them to arrive not five minutes later, their speeds picking up with the knowledge that there were survivors.

As you boarded the flight with the worst of the wounded, which ended up being a young girl not too much younger than yourself, you watched Ghost fight his way on. He stood in the corner as you ordered the people around and trying to fix her up.

He watched, intently, as you moved in your natural habitat. He could see the blood pooling down the back of your head, as much as you tried to ignore it.

When you moved too quick around a corner, you had to catch yourself to keep from passing out. Lightheaded, you stood trying to bring your vision back from tunneling. There was nothing short of panic in your body as you turned to say something, vision fully blacking out before you felt yourself falling.

Your head was throbbing when you came back to, the bright lights burning your eyes as you opened them. You could smell fear and stress all nearly fully coating the tobacco, leather and little hints of smoke from the last mission. You lifted your head as much as you could, glancing over to where the scent was strongest.

"Are you finally back to deciding I'm worth being in your life?" You whispered, voice hoarse from all the screaming. You could hear Simon sigh heavily, a groan coming from his throat.

"Can we please do this another time? You nearly died," he whispered the last part, moving closer to you. You shook your head vigorously, trying to bite your tongue to keep from snapping at him.

You looked at him. "I've told you already. I can't do this up and down with you, this back and forth. It's ruining me," you whispered, feeling your eyes watering. He shook his head, cupping his face in his hands. "Either you figure out how to talk to me, or we get rid of this," you watched as he rubbed his eyes, you could smell the distress and sadness overtaking his scent.

He looked up. "I don't know how to do anything but retreat," he whispered to you. Shaking your head, you looked up at the ceiling. Glancing at him shortly, you had to close your eyes.

"Then you need to leave until you can figure out what it is you want," you told him, hearing him stand and the door opening and shut. With him went his scent, the only thing you could smell was the distress and hurt.

You could feel the tears pouring down your cheeks, your knees bending in an attempt to curl in on yourself. It had felt like hours until your tears dried, your chest hurting and the little gasps you gave out slowly became hiccups. It slowly turned to little breaths, your eyes blinking slowly as you stared to the side.

It took about a week until you were released, the concussion having healed through the week, large bruises and scrapes were slowly healing, a few stitches scattered on your body. You found yourself in your room, the area feeling too clean for your opinion.

The nest had lost its scent, leaving you to re-make it with materials that were better scented.

You took out the one last hoodie of Simons.

The not knowing was what hurt the most. Not knowing if Simon was going to keep you as his mate, not knowing if he was going to try and help himself and help you.

With a deep breath, you started a bath. Your thoughts would be the end of you, and you needed to take some time to just not think. Maybe have an orgasm or two, by your own hands this time.

Simon left. He just completely left the compound when you had made your comments to him, still lying on that bed and slightly bloody. Hair a mess, mud (or blood) splattering it. He put in his leave request the minute he left your hospital room and then booking a flight home.

Home. What a strange concept. Was home just a building, the place you laid your head down to rest at night? Was is the place that you went to when you had nowhere else to go?

Was it a person?

Simon didn't know. He didn't want to know, to be completely honest, and all he could do was run. Just like he always did. Either way, Simon needed a minute to think about everything that happened. Everything he did, everything you did and the things that were caught in his mind.

He hadn't even told Price he left, not yet at least. Not to his face. Sure, he left the note, but Price had been off doing things when he went there.

There was nothing that was good when he got into his apartment. The area smelled stalely of him, and he felt this weird sense of longing lodge into his chest. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, he had never felt something like that, at least not for a long time.

Little whines escaped from his chest, and all he could think about was the scent that was missing. The voice that was missing, the person who was missing.

You. You were missing, his little Omega who was oh so good when he had you. Who was oh so patient with him, the little Omega who gave him love. He didn't want anything short of you, even a little pup or two. Make yourself a pack, create a life with you.

And the only thing Simon could think about was getting back to you. It eventually turned into trying to think about how he would explain everything to you, how he would tell you everything. Give you an explanation, no matter the hoops he would have to jump through.

You deserved it.

Taglist:

@sae1kie @shinebright2000 @zechie-spams @itsmadamehydra @smiley-roos @enrapturedbythemoon @stargatenovus @cowboydisaster @404lunar

(I definitely forgot to add the taglist for my initial post, but I added it only minutes after posting)

#angst #canon typical violence #simon riley x reader #simon riley #call of duty x reader #no use of y/n #task force 141 #modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #call of duty #ghost mw2 #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #hurt/no comfort #mentions of death #simon realizing his fucking feelings #simon ghost riley #maple syrup

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sassydefendorflower · 1 year

Text

I've just realized something about General Olivier Mira Armstrong.

Finally, I've come to understand the reason why she hates Mustang so much - and why she still respects his men.

Olivier Armstrong is a military woman down to her very core. In that she is an interesting character because she is in many ways complicit with the military dictatorship ruling Amestris while also condemning it. She's a political moderate, a mediocre politician, a fierce warrior, and a great leader.

We don't know much about General Armstrong outside of her military career - and her relationship to her brother. We know she's the only female general in the upper brass, we know she's been nicknamed "The Northern Wall Of Briggs" and "the Ice Queen", we know she cares greatly for her soldiers... and she despises cowards.

Now how does she define a coward?

That's were things are starting to get interesting. Because General Armstrong called her brother a coward multiple times because he failed to do what was right in Ishval - but, important to note, it wasn't the heinous acts themselves that she condemned (though it is implied that she does indeed condemn them) but the fact that her brother didn't follow his own principles. He didn't abandoned the Amestrian army to fight for the people he had sworn to protect even though he wanted to. He just went home. And that's what makes him a coward in her eyes.

This aligns with everything else we see about her. She calls Mustang a "sniveling coward" multiple times and notes his lack of a backbone. And yet her dislike of him doesn't seem to run as deep as her disappointment in her brother. Some of that might just be that Alex is family and that means personal relationships do indeed play a role... but some of it is probably the very simple truth that Mustang is trying his best to make up for what he did.

He also failed in her eyes, following orders he knew were wrong, but where her brother fled, Mustang had the strength to stay and look his victims in the eyes as he killed them.

Mustang's team on the other hand did something that General Armstrong very much appreciates: they chose Mustang and his goals the same way the men of Briggs chose her.

Mustang might be a coward and a fool in her eyes, but she can respect the choices his team made.

There is one scene near the end of the show that showcases that beautifully. In episode 58 (or 57) Izumi and General Armstrong get the general to confess the brass' plan to sacrifice the Amestrian people in front of a bunch of soldiers and - after hearing their own death sentence uttered by a commanding officer - the soldiers are unsure how to proceed.

And Armstrong gets angry at them.

Because they are simply following orders. They were killing her people and condemning her country - simply because of some orders that they never learned to question.

And in General Armstrong's eyes that's the actually unforgiving act. Killing and slaughtering for the army is not something she has any problem with (as evident by the Briggs soldiers bloody takeover during the Promised Day) but it needs to be an act of conviction. Looking away and hiding behind orders is what Armstrong sees as cowardly.

It's what Mustang did in Ishval and what his men failed to do when they followed him willingly. It's what Alex couldn't see through, but Olivier made sure her soldiers knew before joining her.

She wants to change Amestris and it's military, not because she's an idealist like Mustang, but because she wants a military in which each soldier is responsible for the people they kill.

It's fascinating because General Armstrong doesn't have the moral high ground - she doesn't see the military as rotten the same way Mustang does, and she doesn't see killing as wrong the way Edward does. She doesn't even contemplate her own kills with shame the way Hawkeye is prone to, or judge the system as harshly as Izumi does.

But she does have a strong moral core as a character, one that would perhaps even agree with Kimblee's famous quote: "Look straight at the people you kill; don’t take your eyes off them. Do not ever forget them because they won’t forget you." - and if you don't agree with an order given? It is your duty as a soldier to defy it.

That's why she can trust her men to plan a coup without her being there to lead them - because she knows every choice they make will be one they can live with. Just as every order they follow is one they can justify.

She is an interesting character because she questions the system while endorsing it - and that puts her at odds with both the military complex and Mustang and his team. It achieves complexity in what could very easily have been a simply narrative.

Olivier Mira Armstrong hates cowards - but she respects those who stand up for their believes, even if those believes defy her.

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deanbrainrotwritings · 9 months

Text

— ALL I WANNA DO

SUMMARY : aka. part 2 of jump on into the fire. in which she finally makes a decision about ben’s previous offer to start a family together.

PAIRING : soldier boy x supe!reader (f)

CHARACTERS : billy butcher, hughie campbell

WARNINGS : nsfw (18+), smut, mutual masturbation, cum play, dacryphilia (Ben, *said scoldingly*), angst

WORD COUNT : 5.9k

A/N : title from splashh song. daydreaming is so fun, this is the birth of my imagination as i watched the boys. also, i chose the reader’s super name to be ‘guardian’ bc I play too much destiny 😔. edited this to be part two of jump on into the fire Xx

To say things were awkward and tense between her and Soldier Boy was an understatement. Even the rest of the team could feel the tension between them, but since Y/N tried to be as discreet as possible about their relationship, they chopped it up to her being upset at him. Especially after the events at Herogasm.

She could have handled the situation better, but the implication that he liked her, as in enough to have kids with her, set alarms off in her head. He put her on the spot and she wasn’t ready for that for multiple reasons.

For one, she didn’t always buy that pathetic, wide-eyed look he’d give them when he was talking about his mistakes, because he didn’t really feel all that bad about it. He’s a soldier, those were just collateral damage, casualties that occurred as he did his job, and so it doesn’t actually matter to him, and it probably never will. The problem wasn’t that he was evil, because he wasn’t, that was all Homelander. The problem was that Ben simply didn’t care. He’s a soldier meant to be ordered around, it didn't matter if he was right or wrong.

That night, just for a few seconds, she stopped seeing him that way. He said something sweet and instead of laughing it off or saying ‘shut up’, she actually liked the idea of being his, of starting a family.

That realisation was terrifying.

What would the rest of the team say? Even without MM, Annie, Frenchie, or Kimiko around, she could imagine their faces if they ever found out that she and Ben had a complicated relationship. Especially MM, and she empathised with him the most. She felt like she was betraying them, for what? A crush?

“You alright, Guardian?” Butcher asked, standing next to her. He was trying to analyse her, trying to get into her head and why she was now staring off past the glass door. She looked at him, eyes flashing up to his face and then to his posture, curiously tilting her head to the side at the sudden interest he had in her spaciness.

“Yeah, why?” She asked, looking away from him to stare out the door again, the nice view from the Legend’s place. She knew he’d probably, finally, bring up the awkwardness between her and Ben, his sudden sour mood, and the way he hadn’t tried to make a move on her since that night. Or maybe Butcher was going to sweep it under the rug like he seemed to be doing these days, focusing mainly on the fact that both her and Ben were still getting the job done properly. At least she was.

Ben seemed to have a lot of other stuff going on and what had happened at Herogasm made it clear that he wasn’t as okay or as in control as he liked to pretend he was. She was there after all, when Ben had confessed to Hughie that he’d blacked out, with those wet, puppy-dog eyes, claiming to be a good guy.

He was a bully, but more than anything, Ben was truly pathetic. He wanted to be the best, to stay at the top, to prove he was worth more than anyone else, and he hated it when anyone threatened that. It’s why he was on board with ending Homelander. It’s why he treated everyone around him like complete shit, especially if he felt they were trying to rise above him.

“Soldier Boy don’t want you to come,” he said bluntly, gazing at her without much of a fuck about how she’ll react. She quickly turned to look at him, confused and irritated as soon as those words came out of his mouth.

“What the fuck?” She glared at him, but mostly, she was pissed at Ben. Could he not tell her that himself? Then Butcher had the audacity to chuckle at her reaction and she narrowed his eyes. He only raised his hands with a smirk on his face when she shoved him for laughing. “Assholes!” She didn’t wait for him to say anything, just rolled her eyes and started to walk angrily to where Ben was now changing into his uniform.

When she slammed the door open, the doorknob cracked a hole into the wall and she could hear the Legend shout asking what the noise was but she couldn’t give two fucks about answering. Ben turned around to look at her, his face was serious at first when he zipped up the front of his suit, but then he froze when he saw her fuming.

“Why the fuck are you benching me?” She heard some shuffling by the door and she glared at Hughie and Butcher who were being nosy, only catching Hughie scrambling away and pulling Butcher with him.

“I’m not benching you,” Ben started, turning away from her unnecessarily to cover his chest with the heavy armour piece. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“I’ve been doing this alone for years. I don’t need you to protect me.” She narrowed her eyes at his back, staring at him as he practically ignored her. This was probably the longest conversation they’ve both had since that night, but the room was still thick with awkward and even sexual tension that set her skin on fire. “I’m going, fuck you if you don’t like it,” she said firmly after a few minutes of silence.

“The fuck you are,” he replied angrily, finally turning around to face her.

She hated herself, the way her body was already reacting to his hard stare. With his stupid green eyes practically boring into her, trying to force her to listen to him rather than get in the way of his focus. Because he knew he’d be too busy worrying about her getting mind-fucked to actually focus on anything. He could get Butcher and Hughie killed, but actually he didn’t give a shit about them, he could get her killed.

He couldn’t tell her that. If he did, she’d push him further away than she already had. To think he fucked up the one good thing he saw coming out of this shit mission, the one good thing in his entire miserable and disappointing life. He wanted her so bad and he wished he could take back what he said so things weren’t awkward between them. Because having her in any way that he could get her was better than this, but it was already out there. The implication of what he really wanted from her.

He couldn’t force her to want it. He couldn’t force her to like him. Hell, he didn’t even like himself. He was a fucking disappointment, so why would she think he was more than that? He was a fool and she was better than him. She didn’t sign up to work for Vought, she didn’t wear some stupid fucking suit for a slut, or get paid for saving the lives of the people in her city. She doesn’t give a shit about fame. She’s just her.

Y/N L/N, with a normal, boring job, and a secret life living up to the name her city gave her, the Guardian.

“Give me one good reason why it’s too dangerous for me to go.” She crossed her arms over her chest and waited expectantly for him to give her something. She knew he’d have way too many things to list and that each one would mean nothing to her. So, all he did was glare at her, cursing softly under his breath knowing he wasn’t going to win this argument, but fuck if it didn’t make him like her more.

It hadn’t gone as bad as Ben had thought it would go. Y/N didn’t get injured or even have to fight at all. Whether he’d liked it or not, he has Hughie to thank for that. There was no struggle or any big fight that broke out when they found Mindstorm with Hughie and Butcher, who was now awake.

Dan was distracted with Hughie and from a distance and at an angle, Ben threw his knife at Dan’s eye, preventing him from using his abilities on them. Y/N had been shocked, almost as much as Hughie when he’d bashed his head in with his shield, but the news he’d gotten from Mindstorm was something that left him feeling conflicted and angry, but most of all completely disappointed after calling Homelander.

“Everything good?” He heard Y/N speak up from the doorway. He forced himself to smile at her, not because he didn’t want to see her and wanted her to go away, but because he didn’t want to show that anything was wrong. Nothing was wrong anyway, not necessarily, he just didn’t want to believe that Homelander was his son, but it all made sense. Homelander was as disappointing as Ben’s father thought he was. Basically, Homelander was not the son Ben would have liked to have had.

“Yeah,” he responded, eyeing her every move guardedly. She shut the door behind her and looked around the room at first, probably expecting him to have had some granny or a sexworker in the room. He rolled his eyes, but knew she had every reason to think that about him. When she saw no one, she walked closer to him and he straightened up a little since she clearly was here for more than just small talk.

She didn’t seem to be avoiding him anymore, but that didn’t make him feel any better. She practically rejected him that night and made him feel unwanted. He still remembers the sting he felt when she just brushed him off. Earlier, she’d been pissed at him for slapping Hughie, for abandoning Butcher, and for being insensitive about the nun and the priest he’d killed, and he knew probably other things he did made her angry, but she got over it quickly. Despite having seen him lose it on more than one occasion, she always seemed to see straight through him and he hated it. Like right now, she tilted her head to the side slightly and her eyes moved across his face, trying to and succeeding in easily getting a read on him.

“Liar. You can’t hide that pathetically sad look on your face. You look like a kicked puppy,” she chuckled, looking away to trace random patterns on the surface of the table she leaned against. He narrowed his eyes at her and scoffed, looking away to stop her from doing that again, even though he missed hearing her and seeing her. “You’re not gonna tell me what Mindstorm said to you?” She bit her lip, watching his reaction to her question.

“Stop doing that,” he warned, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth thoughtfully. He looked up at her again, really took her in because he missed her despite what she might think about him and despite the irritation she made him feel when she tried to get him to open up or talk about his feelings like he was some sissy. He couldn’t help his next actions, the expression on her face was so gentle and troubled that he found he’d somehow closed the distance between them and thoughtlessly pulled her into a kiss to ease all those things from her face.

He expected her to hit him or push him away, hell, all of those things, but she just stood there for the fleeting moment in which he pressed his lips against hers. When he pulled away, just slightly, he tried to gauge her reaction and saw mostly confusion on her face. He licked his lips and gently held her face, frustrated and needy for her, but all he did was gently brush his thumbs across her warm and soft cheeks.

“You don’t hate me,” he said quietly. It was the one thing he was sure of at this point. No one really treated him like he was a person. They were scared of him, for good reason, or they just needed his abilities. Not her. She wasn’t scared of him, not always, and she definitely wasn’t using him despite working with Butcher which she met through Maeve.

His brows were furrowed, just watching her curiously as she gazed at his face, analysing every twitch in his face, every change in expression. Her mouth opened slightly to respond, but she mimicked his face, brows furrowing as she thought about why she just couldn’t hate him the way everyone else did or even why she wasn’t afraid of him.

To be fair, she didn’t know anything about him except from what she’d seen of him getting tortured. Somehow, that meant more to her than all the people that died while he was doing his job. Somehow, her feelings for him seemed to sprout and bloom despite knowing how MM felt about him. She cared about the team, probably more than they cared about her, and that made Ben angry. They didn’t deserve her and neither did he.

She should have been afraid, she should hate him the way everyone else does, especially with knowing he’s killed dozens of innocent people, with his temper that would drive him to be unnecessarily violent, the toxic masculinity that exuded from him. He was everything she’d hate in a person, but for some unknown reason, she didn’t hate him. She wanted to help him get better and to be there for him every step of the way. As foolish as it sounded, she felt she could fix him or at least soften his personality because so far, she’s learned all the reasons why he is the way he is, and she thinks given the chance, he could actually change. Not that he’d ever let her help him.

That was why she was so panicked when he’d shown genuine care and interest in her. What if she gave him the chance to be with her? What if she ended up falling for him only to be discarded once he was bored with her? What if he was incapable of changing and he treated her just like he treats everyone else? If he loved the Countess and he treated her the way he did, why would it be any different with her?

He interrupted her thoughts with another kiss, a gentle and almost sweet kiss that was so unlike him. It was meant to put her at ease and it nearly did, she felt her stomach flutter either nervously or because it made her swoon. She felt how loosely he held her face, giving her an out, and easy escape from being anywhere near him. And even though her mind once again screamed at her to get out, her feet were planted where she stood and she started to kiss him back just as softly.

HIs beard tickled the skin around her lips, but she didn’t mind. Instead, she had memories of other times she’d felt that when he kissed her, times where he worshipped every inch of her body with his mouth, and had his head buried between her legs. Her heart was beating quickly and roughly in her chest at the feeling of him kissing her so gently, for the first time, it wasn’t rough and careless. His lips moved tenderly and slowly against hers, stealing the breath from the lungs and making her knees weak.

She’d never been kissed quite like that and she didn’t think Ben even had the capacity to give someone a kiss like that. He was gentle and he wasn’t pressing, but there was still a hint of desperation and need for her that made her cling to the straps on his thin waist.

His warm hands slowly moved from her face to the hem of her shirt, which he played with contemplatively before simply moving them underneath it. He grasped her hips and tugged her forward until she was pressed tightly against his body with a quiet moan from her being muffled against his mouth. He could feel all of her even when clothed fully, but the soft and flimsy material of her sleepwear only triggered all the memories he had of her own body being trapped beneath his. The way she felt so perfect under his hands, every curve and every dip of her body felt as if it had been sculpted just for his touch.

He pulled away from her plush lips just to pull her shirt up and off her body. Carefully and deliberately, he stripped her, dragging his hands and mouth along her form to replace every article of clothing removed from her. Her skin started to heat up the longer he took, her body tensed with each teasing touch of his, waves of shivers following every touch, kiss, suck, and bite. And soon, she was standing naked in front of him. Her skin was flushed and she was breathing as heavily as he was. Her eyes just stared up at him, filled with an endless conflict and desire that he understood, but it also hurt more than he’d like to admit.

Still, she was the one who slid her hand to the back of his neck to pull him back down for a searing kiss. Her fingers threading through his hair, keeping him close as he busied himself with taking his suit off with her help. He was impatient with himself, undoing every buckle and loosening every strap, zipping everything down as swiftly as he could until he was as naked as she was.

This was new for him. He wasn’t in a frenzy to fuck. He took his time, moved slowly, watching her desire for him bloom the longer he took. Suddenly, it hit him that it felt different and new.

He stared down at her, eyes sweeping over the expanse of her face as he slid his hands down her back and he bent his knees to reach the back of her thighs. Looking up at her and the way she looked down at him, it turned him on. Like he was worshipping her. It was short-lived when she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him control of her body. He moved forward with her in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist and he kissed her neck and shoulder, nuzzling her sensitive skin and inhaling the clean scent of her skin.

Her uneven breaths and the little sighs that slipped from her parted lips spurred him on the whole way to the bed he’d claimed as his own. He placed his knees on the soft mattress and carefully dipped her until she let go of him and let herself bounce slightly against the soft sheets. There was a little smile on her face when he gazed down at her, and for once, she wasn’t thinking about what her team would want or how anyone would feel if they saw her with Ben, she focused solely on what she wanted and how she felt.

At that moment, everything seemed to click. When she reached out for Ben’s face, he leaned down to meet her resting his arm by her head. Her fingers once again tangled in his soft hair when he sealed her lips with his in a purposeful kiss, firm and full of promise before he moved his mouth down to her jaw. His teeth grazed her jawline, sliding down until he bit gently at her pulse point, drawing a gasp and a little moan when he swiped his tongue across the spot and sucked possessively. Her fingers tightened in his hair, her nails pushing into the muscle of his shoulder.

Heat flooded between her legs and she arched her back, his hand sliding up her side and under the curve to hold her in place. She couldn't decide whether to squeeze his legs in attempts to close her own or to open them wider for him. He pretended not to notice that and continued to kiss her neck, his lip lingered on her skin, proprietorial and ravenous as they trailed down her body. He took his time and made sure his mouth had been on every inch of her skin as he moved lower, biting at her collarbones and sucking on the skin above her breasts.

Little by little, she became more impatient. His plump lips wrapped around one of her nipples, lapping and sucking so her breathing would pick up. He slid his hand up from the arch of her back to tweak her nipple and pinch it between his forefinger and thumb, on the edge of being painful and pleasurable. Her clit throbbed, desperate for him to pick up the pace or give her what she wanted, and she could feel just how wet she was as the air around them hit her core.

She could have touched herself if she wanted, but she liked the torture, the ache that grew between her legs just waiting and letting him take his time with her body. It was hard to stay in control and she pulled roughly at the soft strands of hair that she clung to in order to stop herself from ruining the fun. Everything felt so sensitive and a million times more delicious, as if induced by drugs, but there was something about him that gave her that high every time. Maybe it was the fact that she’s never quite been fucked or touched like this before.

He’d look up at her every now and then, smirking occasionally at the sight of her with her head tipped back, moaning and squirming impatiently. He gently teased her skin with his nose, trailing his lips down the centre of her stomach, squeezing her sides when she wiggled her hips to get his attention. He smiled and nipped at her hip bones, dragging his bearded mouth across her thighs while avoiding where she clearly needed him.

Eventually, there was no part of her body that was untouched by his mouth and hands--except for her aching and wet cunt. But when he got to it, he just huffed out a breath over her dripping cunt to watch her squirm and lifted himself back up her body. He pressed a hard kiss to her neck and then kissed her lips, his tongue easily entering her hot mouth. They both moaned into each other’s mouths as he practically devoured her mouth, firm and needy while holding the back of her neck and tilting her head so he could kiss her as hungrily as he wanted.

“You’re so goddamn delicious, doll.” He pulled away from her breathlessly, his lips wet and swollen. He sat back on his legs, enjoying the sight of her looking just as wrecked as he felt. She was flushed and warm and her hungry eyes were slowly dragging over his face and down his body. She licked her lips when she got to his cock, hard and throbbing and leaking at the tip.

“Ben,” she murmured, a hint of neediness in her voice that made him smirk. Using her elbow to lift herself up, she reached over to wrap her hand around the base of his cock before he could continue to tease her.

“Shit,” he groaned. His hips bucked into her hand and she slowly started to lift her hand up, thumbing some precum over the soft head, and squeezing all the way down until he let out a strangled moan.

“Touch me,” she whispered, and even though he detected it being a command more than a plea, he complied. He dragged his hands up the back of her thighs and spread her legs, his hooded green eyes glued on her glistening folds.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet for me, sweetheart,” he praised, dragging two fingers from her slick entrance to her clit. He lifted the wet fingers to his face and she blushed when he inhaled the scent of her arousal before slipping the two fingers into his mouth with a satisfied moan. “Christ, you taste so good.” He brought his fingers back to her pussy, pushing his two fingers into her entrance, his fingertips curled to rub against her walls everytime he pushed them in and out, going deeper and deeper, slowly, and only going fast when he felt the way she expanded inside.

“Holy fuck, Ben,” she gasped, her pussy squeezing his fingers and gazing up at him with her pretty glazed eyes.

Even in her dazed state, she continued to jerk him off with quick, stuttered and uneven tugs. He could feel his own orgasm beginning to form with the way she was looking at him, his stomach tightening when his eyes flickered down to her hand, now wet and coated in his precum.

She moved her hips eagerly against his hand and only stopped when he flattened a large hand on her stomach, a small cry leaving her lips when he added a third finger into her squelching cunt. “That’s right, baby, cum on my fingers,” he encouraged, lowering his hand to her pelvis to quickly massage her clit with his thumb.

“Shit… Ben,” she hissed, letting her orgasm wash over her, wave after wave of pleasure making her body shake. He groaned softly, shoving his fingers deep into her cunt to brush his fingers against the sensitive spot deep inside over and over until she collapsed onto her back, her hand becoming still on his cock to wrap around his wrist instead.

“That’s my good girl,” he lauded, slowly slipping his fingers out of her. She murmured his name softly at the praise as he slid his hand up and down her sides comfortingly and stared down at his fingers. They were coated in clear slick and creamy cum that made his mouth water. “Shit, look at that,” he chuckled, licking his lips. He leaned over her, shoving a clean hand to the back of her head to grasp her hair. With a harsh pull, he forced her eyes open so she could watch him lick away her release from his fingers. “Make me cum and I’ll fill you up,” he promised, then shoved two of his saliva-coated fingers into her mouth, thrusting them in and out of her mouth the way he would if it was his cock.

He scooted closer, close enough so that her thighs were thrown over his and his cockhead brush against her stomach with every quick drag of her hand on his wet cock. He purposely pushed his fingers deeper into her mouth, moaning softly when she gagged momentarily and closed her eyes to blink tears away when he kept shoving them as deep as he could into her throat.

“No, no, look at me, honey. You’re so fucking pretty when you--oh, fuck,” he rasped, grunting softly in surprise. His cock twitched excitedly as hot tears flowed down her cheeks and she moaned softly when he tightened his grip on her hair. He came with a soft growl of her name, spilling hot and messy on her stomach and breasts, feeling an overwhelming intensity in his orgasm while gazing into her watery eyes. He didn’t know if it was the eye contact, or the way her eyes glazed over with tears with her lashes sticking together that pushed him over the edge, but whatever it was, it made him cum faster than they both expected.

“Jesus, Ben,” she laughed softly, releasing his now limp cock. He just panted heavily, leaning back on his legs with his head tipped back and his eyes closed. He basked in the aftershocks of the mind-blowing orgasm he just had with his hands on her hips and she licked her lips while wiping away tears from her cheeks and eyes.

He looked back down at her once he recomposed himself, catching her playing with his cum splattered on her chest and in the middle of lifting her fingers into her mouth. She looked at him and snickered when she saw the look on his face as she started to lick at the cum on her fingers, his eyes darkening and his cock hardening all over again.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss her roughly. She moaned softly, pleasantly surprised when he rocked his hips against hers, sliding his cock through her folds and over her clit teasingly. He reached between their bodies and lined himself up with her entrance, easily thrusting into her with a snap of his hips.

He carefully rocked his hips against hers, lifting himself up slightly so they parted from the searing kiss to gaze down at her. Her eyes fluttered open, but she didn’t protest, just slid her hands along the hefty planes of his back, stopping only when she got to his broad shoulders to hold onto them. He stopped suddenly after letting his eyes drift over her face, then he hid his own in her neck and slid his arm under the small of her back.

“Homelander’s my son,” he mumbled against the connection between her neck and shoulder. She froze and her eyes widened when she deciphered what he’d said and slid her hands from his back to push at his shoulders, but he didn’t budge. “That’s what Mindstorm told me,” he added quietly.

“What the fuck, Ben?” She grumbled, yanking his hair in attempts to get him off her, but he just growled and swivelled his hips defiantly. “You’re gonna tell me that now?” She protested and he gave an unhumourous nod into her neck, lifting himself up just to kiss her to distract her from what he’d blurted out. She kissed him back begrudgingly with her eyes open.

“I knew you’d react this way,” he said softly against her lips. She bit his lip roughly and he hissed, pulling away to glare at her and was met with a fierce glare from her.

“Yeah, fuck you,” she muttered, squirming angrily in attempts to get away from him. She felt used, as if he’d hide that from her just to get a quick fuck.

“Please,” he whispered, pulling out when he realised she wasn’t giving him a chance to explain himself.

“Please what?” She spat, shoving him away to think about what he just revealed. Out of everyone she’s ever met, Homelander was someone she truly despised. He was an utter piece of shit and he had a long list of vile traits that she despised in people, supe or not. He was a fucking child and he was out of control, no one ever having told him ‘no’ his whole life. “What the fuck do you want from me?” She asked, moving away to pace around the room or even to leave Ben the same way she had before.

“You know what I want,” he retorted, suddenly it wasn’t about Homelander. Fear of being left alone again made Ben grab her arm to stop her from getting out of bed. “You’re not fucking stupid, sweetheart,” he reminded, gently tugging her back to him. She didn’t budge, but she looked over at him when he let her go. She caught a glimpse of the resignation on his face, the vulnerability she’d rarely seen on his face, before he could mask it. She sighed in defeat, deciding to hear him out after all.

“Ben…” She sat on the bed, facing him and reached out to brush his hair away from his face. He moved away from her touch, sitting at the edge of the bed with his back to her. She dropped her hand in her lap and watched him, her eyes drifting to the large window in front of him that let her see what he could no longer hide from her.

“If you’re not gonna say what I wanna hear, don’t say anything and get out,” he said harshly, his shoulders slumped and overall, he looked defeated. She’d expected him to lash out or to hear how he didn’t want to kill Homelander, but it was probably worse to see him like this.

“Ben, it won’t work out.” She said it softly, but it hurt him like a million knives in the chest. In reality, the hurt he felt hearing her say that didn’t compare to the forty years of torture he was put through in Russia.

“It could work… I could make it work,” he said quietly, “when we’re done with Black Noir and Homelander, and I will kill him… It’ll just be you and me, Y/N. Maybe… we can start a family somewhere else, far away from all this bullshit.” He looked over his shoulder slightly just to read her face when she remained quiet.

She chewed on her lip, frowning as she considered his words. He was still willing to kill Homelander, his son. That should be worth something. He actually wanted something normal when he was done with this and she was more surprised than doubtful of his words. He spoke so softly, as if he’d had this plan all his life and finally found someone who could fill in the faceless mother of the children he wanted in his fantasy. He was willing to retire and he wanted that with her.

After spending years being an abusive and toxic asshole, then wasting decades more of his life being tortured, it made sense to her that he just wanted to cherish the rest of his time doing shit he’s always wanted rather than trying to prove he was worth something. In many ways, being a father could fulfil that need to prove he wasn’t a complete disappointment. After he’d been told that so much by his father, he was incapable of seeing himself as anything but a disappointment. This was his way out and she could easily open that door up for him.

Or she could slam that door in his face like a coward. She could continue to be too afraid to be hated by a team that didn’t give two fucks about her. Why she prioritised their opinions on her puzzled her as much as Ben being vulnerable right now.

“Get out,” he muttered, staring at her with his face hard. She blinked and focused on him again, her mouth fell open to say something, but he turned away and was sitting straight. The walls he’d let down were up again, probably stronger than ever before, and she made her way over to him on her knees, sliding her hand up his neck to cup his chin and tilt his head back so he’d look up at her.

He stared at her with steely eyes, but she kissed him, painfully squeezing his chin until he moaned and opened his mouth to let her tongue slip past his lips. He reached up to wrap his fingers around her wrist, silently telling her to loosen her grip and she did, kissing him firmly, saying everything she couldn’t say with the heated kiss. He melted into her, turning slowly until she had to pull away to accommodate the new position he was kissing her in.

“I’m not gonna let you push me around and tell me what to do,” she murmured between kisses, moving up the bed with him until her head was settled against the fluffy pillows.

“I won’t do that,” he promised, taking his soft cock in his hand and jerking it until he was stiff and ready again.

“There’s a lot more,” she murmured distractedly.

“I can imagine,” he laughed softly, gently pushing himself into her, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

➥ your sword versus my dagger

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