#snowy rapids

[silvaris]

Water and Ice by dantyartphotography

#winter woods #snowy river #winter river #rushing water #rapids #my upload #silvaris #misty #foggy #cloudy #waterfall #river #stream #brook #winter mood

[snowyfrostshadows]

Still super new to the Mario games, but like, do they ALL have an underlying layer of horror to them or is just the ones I'm picking???

#decided to take a break from origami king cuz i'm not emotionally prepared to die fifty times in the rapids #and try out the rabbids battle royal kingdom game #and uh. wouldja look at that #got some body horror gonna on here #like don't get me wrong; i love some light metahorror in my media #i just wasn't expecting to see ANOTHER mario game touch on my oh so particular horror preference #and now i'm just. over here. side-eying odyssey; like what else ya got? #snowy plays mario

[cowyolks]

FAINT JINGLING BRASS

Pairing: Krampus! König x Female Reader

Prompt: There was something about you, something that urged the beast to enter your cottage. It was intrigued, sniffing the anguish of your very soul- and it wanted you.

Warnings: Predator/Prey Dynamics, stalking behaviors, spanking, oral (receiving), fingering, mutual masturbation, monster sex, p in v sex, breeding kink, creampie.

Words: 5.2 K

A/N: Yes, it has in fact, came to this. I have been a silent lover of the monster fucker committee, and this is my offering. Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

You hated Christmas.

It wasn’t always that way. When you were little, you’d help your father pick out a tree from the massive evergreen grove that bordered your childhood cottage on the outskirts of the Alps. You’d help your mother dry oranges and string popcorn to place on the pine-scented branches.

You’d laugh at the nostalgic sound of jingle bells and hum carols that your late grandmother had taught you. The scent of gingerbread and pine incense would seep through every room.

Christmas was a time of Joy, to celebrate the end of the year, and wait in anticipation for Saint Nicolas.

That all changed after the accident.

The coroner ruled it to be a mistake, some drunkard that was directing his sleigh too fast. You had survived the collision, insisting on riding in the back where you could see the glistening brass of the jingle bells attached to the back of the sleigh.

Now the sound nauseated you, filling you with a looming sense of dread and hate for all things Christmas.

The cottage that was once full of laughter and joy, was now empty and cold. Sweets that were once baked were replaced with bare necessities you would eat only to survive. Incense that once burned was replaced with small logs burning in the fireplace, keeping your body as warm as it could, despite the clothes that now swallowed you from your rapid weight loss.

You'd watch in envy from down the mountain swells, pinpointing the children skating on powdery ice, parents buying traded gifts and kissing under mistletoe.

Your hands, shaking in cold, shut the thin drapes with a bitter sigh. You would have to go down to the stores tomorrow, begging for at least a loaf of bread, or possibly a portion of cheese or dried meat. You would have to go in the early hours of the morning, before the obnoxious drunks put on their furry masks and horns for the second day Krampusnacht. They would run and terrorize the children on the cobbled streets, even the women who walked alone were not safe. It was a sick tradition you would try your best to avoid.

But for now, you wouldn't think of going to the village. You would do as you always did. Carry on.

Gathering the thick material of your shawl, you threw it on over your shoulders. Not even your sorrow could stop you from chores. With your worn boots placed over your cold feet, you stepped outdoors. Immediately you braced yourself against the cold, feeling the wind bite at your cheeks. The bitter snap of cold was harsh enough to make your teeth chatter and nipples stiffen.

Regardless, you pushed through the heavy snow down the shoveled path to the stables. Your Lipizzan mare, named Sterne, was huddled in the corner of her stall. Snowy fur highlighted her in the growing twilight. She huffed as you approached, white smoke leaving her nostrils, making her look like some sort of angry dragon. Perhaps she was, you were late in giving her dinner.

With a sigh, you grabbed the fork, pitching some old hay into her stall with a grunt. You were running low on feed too, you'd have to scrounge up some oats for her, and corn for the chickens.

A soft whinny echoed in the tight space, Sterne's frosted head bonking against your shoulder in a quiet thank you. Your mittened hands reached upwards, patting her withers gently.

"You up for a run to town tomorrow, girl?" You spoke to her, the only conversation you had started today, your voice raw from being unused. She whinnied again, understanding the word "ride" and pawing the dirt in anticipation. The mare was definitely more excited than you were.

With a final pat, you left her stall, throwing a half empty sack of corn over your shoulder on the way out. You spotted your beaten path in the growing darkness, making your way to the chickens that roosted in a small coop.

You hurriedly shuffled in the snow, your paranoid mind always screaming at you when it came to be dark. You never liked being out in the open, always feeling like you were being watched, despite the mountain tops sheltering your home.

You opened the coop door, pushing yourself into the tight space just to get rid of some of the paranoia. Your hens cooed at your presence, leaving their nesting boxes after hearing the shuffling of corn. You worked half-blind, pouring the corn into the wooden trough, and making sure they still had fresh water you melted this morning.

With a sigh, you braced yourself to leave the coop, glancing out the small window towards the forest before you committed. Nothing was seen in the tree line making your muscles unwind, relaxing slightly. You huffed, shaking your head at your ridiculous behavior, that was until you caught onto the strange prints in the snow.

They looked to be like the mountain goats that grazed upon the mountaintops, but they never came this close to people. And the prints were large, abnormally large. You glanced onward, observing the strange gait the prints had, like the goat or sheep was limping, or taking large steps.

The gears in your mind shifted, thinking of a logical reason why these prints made the hair on your neck stand.

Then, it hit you.

It was Krampusnacht, someone was obviously pulling a trick on you, walking with hoof imprints on boots, likely mimicking Krampus as well. You fumed, not being one to play into games, let alone ones dealing with your least favorite holiday.

You slammed the coop door shut behind you, marching through the snow and back to the cottage that was beginning to grow cold. Your hand hit the icy door twisting the large latch and opening the cottage to the chill. Before you could slam the door in your anger and fear, you halted, turning to face the dim landscape.

"I know you're there! Might as well come in, there is nothing of value here!" You shouted angrily, knowing how the village spoke of your family. How they whispered that you were some witch that murdered her parents and lived in a hut up the mountainside, far away so you could practice your spells and potions.

They would have nothing to take.

You slammed the door shut behind you, missing the hissing laughter and jingle of brass as the wind howled over the noise. Red eyes watched through the bedroom window, your oblivious form changing into a sheer shift and wool stockings for bedtime.

The beast tilted his head to the side, taking the time to inhale largely, breathing the scent of this human girl that was so intoxicatingly unique. He had never smelt anything quite like it, involuntarily his long, forked tongue swiped across his lips as you left the room.

Your eyes would dart across the room occasionally, making sure the curtains were still drawn from the main foyer where you would sleep next to the fireplace. You got to work on the candles, red wax burning down the sticks slow and lazily. You lit a couple around the house, basking in the warm glow despite the chill.

Your stomach growled, eating itself from the inside out. You had fed your animals, and now your body screamed, my turn. You decided on the last bit of homemade buckwheat bread. It was dry and stale, but it satisfied your hunger at least until the morning time.

There was little left to do but rest, but it seemed your body wouldn't be able to sleep with the possible threat outdoors. It could be nothing, but you couldn't let it go. You were too weak to fight off a grown man, unless perhaps you had your father's old crossbow, but that would take more strength to load than you had.

For now, all you could do was wait.

You smoothed out the thin cotton of your slip, sighing when you realized you would have to hem it, or you'd risk showing your breasts from the loss of weight. You tugged it upwards, smoothing it over your skin with a critical look.

You startled as the wind howled and whistled through the chimney, flickering the flames you worked so hard to produce. You leant forward, blowing gently upon them until the ashes brightened and it burned steady again.

You settled down upon the wooden floor, the planks covered in a thick arrangement of all the quilts and knitted blankets you owned. It was far too cold to sleep in your bedroom at the opposite end of the house, so your makeshift nest would have to do.

You hardly remembered closing your eyes, just that there was nothing better to do besides get some rest for your busy day tomorrow.

You dreamt of falling snow, the landscape only lit with the dull glow of the crescent moon above. You were in a clearing, pine trees growing over you as if they were extending to shake your hand. Then, as you began to swivel and study the landscape, a shrill sound of a bell made you turn in the direction, your own eyes settling on dark growing red ones, rectangular pupils dilating as it watched.

You woke up with a gasp, panicking at the loss of light throughout the room. The fireplace was glowing ash, signaling that you had been asleep for a few hours, although it only felt like minutes.

Your body was shivering, drawing you to the conclusion that you definitely woke up to the cold, not whatever nightmare your mind had conjured. With a yawn, you reached, placing more dead cedar onto the ashes, watching it hungrily catch.

“You need to relax.” You chided to yourself, rubbing your arms together as your eyes adjusted to the moonlight that flooded through the cracks in the curtains. It was a dangerous time to be by yourself, lights dimmed with nothing but your thoughts.

You thought of how around this time you would be in the village with your parents, pointing out the prettiest decorated trees, or indulging in a sweet treat like a slab of dark chocolate, or possibly an orange or apple.

You sighed, watching as the smoke curled away from your lips and swirled around the house. Eyes found the steady lick of flames, the wood popping and spilling ash so loud you missed the small creak of the floorboards behind you. The creature watched, intrigued at the visible curvature of your spine and the heady scent of dreadful nostalgia you wafted.

He wanted to make himself known, to feed off of your emotions and kill this foreign urge that had his body buzzing.

You froze when you heard the faint sound of a brass bell, throat bobbing as all your limbs seized up. A hissing purr releasing from directly behind you, startling you so much you hardly registered you were on your feet and turning to the sound.

Eyes rounded, a shriek threatening to escape your throat if it wasn't for the fact that you were frozen in fear. This thing, it was too real. All it did was stare, as if it was letting you take in his presence.

This thing was too tall to be a mere man or schoolboy from the village. The creature had to be at least eight feet tall, hunched over to avoid hitting the wooden rafters of the cottage. It wore a large coat made of old fur, likely wolf or bear, it covered the span of it's wide back and huge arms. The hood was pulled, but it couldn't possibly hide the large horns protruding from its head. Bells hung from the horns, ringing with every ragged breath it took. It was human, but not. A nose and mouth just like yours, until a forked tongue swept out like a serpent tasting the air. Human arms and muscular abdomen, but fur-covered powerful legs and hooves for feet.

Red eyes glowed back at you, just like the ones from your dreams. Realization sunk in—this creature had been watching you, polluting your dreams and feasting off your fear.

This was Krampus, and he was here to punish you.

Again, there was hissing laughter that rattled the rafters, causing you to flinch. His maw grinned, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

"I smell your fear, little one." It purred, as if amused by your rapidly beating heart. "Do you know who I am?" It asked in its hollow voice, although it looked as if his mouth hardly moved.

"Krampus." You squeaked, hair standing up on the ends of your neck as you took a step backward towards the fireplace, spine hitting the cold stones with a gentle thud. You would have to run, find a way to Sterne in the stables, because there was no way you would make it to the village on foot and match his massive stride and hooves.

Krampus seemed to catch onto your planning, because the creature took a single step forward, hoof knocking hard on the ground as it blinked in approval of your introduction.

"Very good, human. Though we prefer König." Hmm, King, the beast had dubbed his name after a ruler, despite his other half, Saint Nick, being far more beloved.

"Why are you here?" You whimpered, hoping to stall as your hand reached backwards to discretely find the stiff iron of the poker. If you could not run, you would fight.

"As if you don't know, girl? They call you witch under their breath, speak on how much you hate Christmas and people. How you haven't even visited your parent's graves. That's cold." It cackled at the joke, just as familiar anger flooded your veins at the mention of your family.

"Shut up!" You seethed, hand fisting the handle of the poker. "You don't know anything about me." Spoken like a cornered dog, ready to lash out at the hand who fed it.

"Don't I?" The creature drew closer, close enough you could see the claws on his paw like hands, the pointed ears that resembled an elf or nymph, and the birch whip he fastened over his cloak. König stepped within range, yet before you could stab the iron into flesh, a clawed hand grabbed your wrist, faster than you could have possibly moved.

The beast loomed over you, your chin only reaching the hard rigidness of his lower abdomen, where fur met human skin.

"I can smell the ambition, raw pain, starvation. You want revenge, don't you girl?"

It was true, you were far too ambitious for your own good. Plotting and planning ways you could murder the damn drunkard for killing the only people that mattered to you. Now, your heart was crushed in pieces, no family, no love, no acceptance.

Perhaps you were more like this beast then you thought.

While ambition ran through your veins, so did stubbornness. You wouldn't agree with him, at least verbally. Instead, your stare locked with his rectangular pupils, chin held high, and jaw clenched.

A slow smile spread across his lips, a growling laughter much like a whistle escaped him, just as he dropped your wrist. It fell to your side, aching slightly from his grip. "You're like nothing I've ever seen, Little One. You intrigue us." He slithered out.

"What do you want?" You spat, gaze falling on the birch switch slung over his shoulders, and the expansive length of his claws. He could kill you, but it was obvious you piqued his interest, despite you not really understanding why.

"To help you." König cackled, taking another step forward, now close enough that you could smell the scent of pine and earthen musk, not the rot they had told you Krampus stunk of in stories.

"Why?"

a clawed finger moved upwards, moving to the soft lines of your jaw. You turned slightly, cheek hitting the cold cobble of the fireplace to escape his touch. The sharp talon extended, brushing against your skin way too softly for a beast such as he. Predatory eyes dropped to your sheer nightdress, the material splaying softly over what little curves you had left. You exhaled nervously, suddenly drawing conclusions of what this thing wanted.

"No... No." You swatted his hand, an unknown feeling warming your gut at the look this monster had given you with flashing eyes.

A snap cracked throughout the cottage, candles lighting on their own as it luminated the wooden table near the fireplace. Your head rotated in that direction, peeking around the beast to see a table full of all foods imaginable. Roasted duck, chicken, potatoes, blood oranges, nuts, jams and jellies. Along the masses of food, glistened jewelry of golds and silvers, bloody rubies and glowing emerald. It was enough to buy the entire village.

You took a step forward, moving beyond the creature to get a better look, nearly hitting your head on his massive horns. It had to be some massive illusion, this whole thing a dream. Krampus, your parents, these treasures— all fake.

As your fingers ran through the cool texture of gold coins, and you felt the beast breathe down your neck— you knew it had to be real.

"I can give you all of this and more. I'll serve you your parent's killer on a silver platter, clothe you in silks and gold... give you more pleasure than any mortal man." He poisoned you, stopping your heart as a long tongue swept across the bounding pulse of your neck, leaving a warm and wet trace that had your legs going weak.

"All you have to do is give yourself to me, say yes." It nearly whimpered, making you believe you were not the only one tempted by such an offer, the creature was eager as well.

"And what if I say no?"

a firm warmth pressed against your back, the rippling muscles of his torso providing warmth that the cabin did not. "We will leave and never come back. But I believe that is not what you want, yes?"

Hesitation. Reflection. Decision.

"Take me."

A loud growl echoed the cabin at those two words. The creature picked up upon the nervousness you wafted like smoke, "Mach dir keine sorgen, Liebling. We will take good care of you."

All you could let out was a muffled squeak.

Clawed paws pressed against your collarbones, pushing your neck back and against the creature's abdomen. The beast was hunched, almost like it was encircling you like prey to get a better look at where to sink his teeth into.

It should have been wrong how good it felt to have his lips pressed to your neck, his mouth so dangerously close to you with those abnormally sharp teeth. He’d likely killed with them, but now he bit softly, pulling purplish bruises to the surface that he’d soothingly lick with his long and forked tongue. Claws smoothed over the sheer shift you wore, pulling a moan from your throat when he scraped the sharp point against your nipple.

A fistful of your breast, kneading, "You like that, girl?"

You gasped, feeling the growing heat radiate through your body as strong hands tore at the clothes, freeing your skin to the chilling air. The torn shift dropped to the ground with a dull thud, leaving you completely exposed to the beast that was nearly rattling in primal satisfaction.

A sharp crack echoed the room, a raw yet delicious sting radiated over the swell of your rear, making you gasp and catch your breath. Konig had backed away, his other hand now grasping the birch switch in his grip.

"Answer when I speak, Liebling... yes?" The creature cackled, eyes glowing a dark crimson as the bells upon his horns continued to jingle mockingly. You nodded, head tilted to the side so you could see what he was doing. Then another cracked echoed, the switch burning upon your other cheek, likely leaving delightful red marks.

"With words, little one."

"Yes, yes, I understand." You moaned, sighing in relief when the beast rubbed the irritated skin in some sort of apology. A large inhale escaped him, low purring once again rumbling his chest.

"We smell you, how sweet you are. Would you let us taste?" It was not a question, but a demand. As soon as you gave the approval to his deal, this beast would not stop until it had its way with you. You found yourself buzzing in excitement instead of grief.

"Yes."

Paws maneuvered you, letting your naked body fall back onto the nest of blankets and fur you had made in front of the burning fireplace. It was in the burning glow that you could truly see the beast, the intelligence beneath his eyes, the human nose that was curved and looked to be once broken, the darkness of stubble that covered a sharp jaw, the spiral pattern of horns, the pale glow of his skin where muscle bulged, the scars and burns that littered its torso. Then, the lower half, the dark coarse fur and shiny hooves that allowed it speed and warmth.

What had really caught your eye was the growing erection between fur and skin. It was massive, and slowly sliding out of a sheath like pocket of his body. His cock was human-like, despite the size- a large shaft twisting with veins and ending with a round tip, flushed and needy. Heavy and hairy balls hung low, making you completely second guess this whole situation you wound yourself in.

The beast noticed your stare, paw going under your chin to lock eyes with you. "Do not be so scared, little one, I'll make it fit, we just have to get you ready. Be a good girl and lay back..."

You did as you were told, focusing instead on the soft material on your bare back, and the warm heat of the fireplace wafting over your body.

Paws petted down your sides, sliding over your hips and making you shiver as he gripped below your thighs, spreading them apart so you were bared to him.

A foreign curse escaped the beast as it settled hungrily between your body, studying the sheer arousal you embarrassedly leaked. A finger prodded your slit, allowing you to hear the lewd sounds of your juices. You moaned as he spread it up and down, playfully flicking upon the puffy bead of your clit.

"Smell so divine..." It hissed, eyes locking with yours for a moment until he ducked lower, just the long expansion of his horns to be seen. Hot breath filtered across your aching cunt, making it clench around nothing. Then a sudden flick of a wet muscle startled you, making you jump and mewl.

"Taste good too, little one." The beast purred, caging your fidgeting hips against strong arms so you could no longer move against him. Eyes fluttered shut when you felt him once again lick a painfully slow stripe up your slit, collecting so much of your arousal you should have been embarrassed.

The beast was humming, seemingly enjoying the taste just as much as you were enjoying the pressure of his teasing tongue slipping over your clit.

"Please... inside." You managed to beg as the forked tongue parted lengthily from his mouth, entering the smooth and molten heat of your cunt. The muscle curled, burrowing further against your walls as you cried out in pain and pleasure.

He was stretching you, no doubt getting you prepped for what was to come. He pulled backwards, leaving your hole cold and needing. You whined, feeling completely empty until he filled you again, this time quicker and rougher.

"Fuck..." You moaned, eyes closing and head falling backwards against the wooly blanket. Claws pressed into the inside of your thighs, pulling you further apart and nearly penetrating your skin enough to draw blood.

König pulled away, licking upon your clit teasingly, "Such naughty words coming out of a girl so pretty. Shall we punish you, again?"

You whined, attempting to push your hips against his mouth, lips now covered in your slick. Sharp teeth smirked at the reaction and excitement flashed across his eyes at your blissed expression.

"Words, Liebling..." The beast warned, shifting higher to run his tongue across your breasts, leaving hot trails that cooled against the room's frigid temperature.

"Please, need you." Your chest heaved, nipples hard and bared to him as he continued to suckle and lick upon the flesh.

"So needy for my cock, but you are not ready, we would split you in two. Touch yourself." The beast ordered. You didn't dare refuse, slipping your fingers down towards your aching core. You were in shock by just how much molten slick coated your fingertips. You shyly began to circle your bud, sighing in relief as the creature fell back on his haunches to watch.

It was busy licking his lips, savoring the taste of your juices as his own paw settled upon his cock, giving it a slow pump. He watched as you moaned softly, legs becoming jelly from so much overstimulation without yet cumming.

"Inside, girl. Stretch yourself."

Your face flushed in embarrassment, but you sunk your index and middle finger inside you, moaning at the contact and noise the juices had made. The beast seemed to like it as well, because his hand fisting his cock began to increase speed.

You curled your fingers, groaning at the feeling, but realizing it did not feel as heavenly as his tongue. Your gaze landed on his paws, how his fingers were long and thick, wrapping around the whole base of his cock, it made you huff in want.

König was watching, looking at your every move. "You want my fingers, little one?"

"Yes."

A chuckling hiss left him again, just as he loomed above you once more. Your fingers left your cunt, leaving you open and throbbing for the beast to continue. A clawed finger scraped your moisture, coating it with arousal before it slipped heavenly inside you, the sharp point curling inwards.

It hurt, but oh how it felt euphoric.

The beast growled at the noises you made, cock twitching achingly against your thigh. He added another finger, picking up his pace as he continued to feed upon your moans, curiosity crawling across his face as you gripped the sheets.

"Going to- mmph," You stuttered, clenching down on his fingers, feeling the squelching of your cunt as you clamped around him, white hot pleasure leaving your body in waves as you shook and cried against him.

"So schön..." The beast kept muttering over and over again, reluctant to leave your heat but excited for what was to come.

You yelped as the creature grabbed you, your body still buzzing in pleasure. The beast huffed, smelling the scent of your orgasm and the need that still flowed from your veins. You were crushed against his torso, secured against him until he laid back and sprawled. His cock lay twitching between your legs, your slick coating the shaft as he maneuvered you above him.

It was a submissive position for him, allowing you to be on top of such a creature. You had a million questions- why wouldn't he take you like the half-animal he was, or at least allow himself the pleasure to sink into you instead of you maneuvering the pace?

A hand kneaded the flesh of your ass, lifting your body up as his other settled upon the mass length of his cock.

Then it all clicked.

The creature wanted you to begin, to stretch yourself out as he watched. He wanted to see your expression as you lost yourself and locked him inside you. It made you that much more eager to please him.

König slid his cock against your slick, growling in anticipation as the head lined with your small hole.

"Go slow, little one. Do not hurt yourself."

You bent your knees, lowering slowly onto his head. He hissed at such a tight squeeze, claws imprinting into your hips once again as he held you up.

"So tight," it hissed, tongue nearly lolling out of his mouth like a dog.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, foreign to the feeling of being so impossibly full. Your walls burned at the stretch, but you pushed forward more, until it grew so painful you had to halt your movements.

"Too much." You weakly spoke, halting on his length that throbbed in need. You couldn't have been more than halfway down his shaft.

"Shh..." The creature cooed, running soft paws down your sides again, a soothing pattern. It began to purr, the vibrations somewhat of a lullaby as he rattled. You relaxed slightly, feeling the warmth of him. Your body changed, cunt opening up slightly with preparation to take the rest of him.

You sighed, sinking further until your ass hit the furry coat of his thighs, the soft texture comforting you further. You cooed at the stretch, noticing that the beast was uncharacteristically quiet with its eyes closed.

You found yourself missing the attention.

Hips jutting forward, sawing into his abdomen as you ground down upon his cock. Red eyes flew open, a growl leaving his throat as a slap landed across your sore rear again.

"Squeezing me so good, human. I will breed you." The creature decided, claws pulling upon your ass and lifting you halfway up and slamming you back down against his swollen balls.

You moaned, never feeling more full in your life. He lifted you higher, seemingly no longer caring that you controlled. It must have been against his nature, and it was obvious as he lifted you completely off of him.

You were flipped, as if you weighed nothing more than a simple sack of flour. A hand pushed upon your back, making your spine arch as you settled upon your hands and knees, ass up and bared to your purring monster.

"Such a pretty one, bared to me and needy." It hissed, plunging his glistening cock into your wet heat with no warning. Furry thighs slammed against your ass, pulling you back into him with such power you lost your breath.

You struggled to clutch onto something, settling on your quilts as you mewled out in white-hot pleasure. It continued its blinding pace, slamming in and pulling out nearly all the way before hitting the tip of your womb again.

Pressure began to build up in your stomach, body crying again for another release. You arched further against him, meeting his thrusts in a sloppy sounding slap.

"That's it, Liebling. Cum for me now, and I'll fill you up."

Nothing sounded better.

With one last snap of his hips, you were releasing, crying out into the dark cabin. You clenched around him, gushing and clamping to him so much you felt the stutter of his movement as his arms pulled you closer, pushing his throbbing cock so far into you, you could feel the bulge against your stomach.

White hot liquid pooled into your cervix, coating you and staining your body for the rest of your life. You would never be fucked the same way again, and the beast knew it as well.

König maneuvered you again, settling you upon the soft blankets as you both panted from pleasure and exhaustion. Purrs rumbled from his chest as your body curled into his own, still connected.

"You are mine to take care of now, little one."

Exhausted eyes closed, settling in a peaceful slumber aided by the soft jingle of brass bells.

Maybe, Christmas would not be so bad after all.

Tags: @mykneeshurt @glitterypirateduck

#cod #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #könig #monster könig #König x reader #könig x you #monster fucker #monster smut #this is a bit out of my comfort zone but oh well #konig x reader #konig

[ghostheartfelt]

*:･｡☆ warnings: heavy gore, torture, hurt/comfort, whump, s/a towards reader, men being gross, gunshot wounds, stab wounds, blood and violence, branding (torture method), waterboarding (torture method), reader (thaye) is a badass, first kiss, dismemberment of fingers, eye trauma, protective!ghost, implications of smut/sex, aftermaths of torture. (there is probably a lot i missed, but idc lol all the other shit should b enough warning!!) 〔☆〕 desc: you and the 141 are deployed to austria with the intel of a drug boss known as rolmuth who is harboring romanian soldiers to the east coast to smuggle illegal mercenary personnel into america. what happens when a rapid snowstorm picks up and you (callsign 'thaye') are separated from the others then further captured and interrogated alongside your lieutenant?

—✩ PHANTOM TOUCH ✩—

word count —15.6k

a/n: sorry for my inactivity! the entire time i was workin on this shit... let me tell you.. this is 51 pages on google docs LMAO so i hope the length and word count makes this fat fucking hurt/comfort one shot worth it.

VIENNA, AUSTRIA.

“Move, move, move!” Price yells.

Snow fell and blanketed the ground beneath you, you were dressed in white camouflage tactical gear. 

Your movements were slower as you trudged yourself through the snow, you turned in every direction searching for your captain. 

Your lieutenant. 

Anybody. 

Rapid snowy winds smacked you in the face, nearly forcing your eyes shut as you traveled through the gusts. 

“Soap?!” You shout, planting your feet below into the patches of snow, 

Your arms raise to cover your face. 

“Fuck!” 

“Thaye!” A voice echoed through the snow that encased you in a blanket of long silence. 

Snow nestled into the ground below—everything around you seems to just slow down.

You traipse yourself heavily through the thickness around you as you snap a clip into your M4 carbine, swinging it behind you like it had been previously.

Thump.

Your head droops down and you feel your heart drop into your stomach seeing the body of one of the men you were deployed with face up.

His head four inches deep in the snow and his right eye completely destroyed, his chest marred with several bullet wounds.

The root of his nose is fractured to the point where it’s flattened into what’s left of his skull. 

You swallow the knot in your throat that might have also been barf trying to make its way out of you, kneeling down to peel the soldier’s dog tags off of his corpse.

Hudson “Scooter” Wheeler. 

It makes you smile slightly, your thumb dragging over the metal tag to wipe off the thickness of blood that had coated the carving of his name.

“I’m sorry, Wheeler.” 

The loss of fallen soldiers leave footprints and engravings on one’s heart that never allows them to be the same, again. 

You wished sometimes you could just be without the worry about who you have to lose and who you have to save. 

Restless nights followed by mornings and afternoons full of nothing but unpromised resolutions. You nearly felt as if insanity would be a better route than going through the pain of losing the people you stood side by side with, enduring the effects of grief, bloodshed, and war.

Although there were moments of bonding and camaraderie that were forced to turn into utter gore and distrust due to the change of the objective that deemed those to turn against one another in hopes of survival and success. 

Pride; a fickle sense that could drive an individual to the depths of madness and create a staked claim to prove more power then they own or deserve.

You didn’t understand it. Nor did you want to. 

You were left in a society where the drabness of gray ruled the world and pain of loss clenched to the soldier’s  hearts almost desperately. 

And yet that perpetual colour of gray; a colour so dull but so compelling, it still lights the depths of hell you lived in by merely a petite dose.

Your mouth had begun to feel tacky with your muscles stiffening as the weather conditions intensify by every fleeting moment. 

Inside your combat boots, you feel your feet begin to grow numb; similar to the feeling of stepping on fresh-cut grass and grazing dull needles. 

Now, you wonder what hypothermia would feel like. You weren’t used to this sort of weather. 

Even under your white half-face balaclava, you felt your lips and their absence of moisture. 

Still, you trekked forward, squinting eyes searching for any sign of life around you.  

Your face lights up at the sight of a shadow-like movement through the blistering storm and rapid winds once you wipe off the frost lingering on your goggles. 

They moved closer—it seemed to be one person. 

There’s a tree to your left—your legs manage to jerk themselves through the snow until you're beside it.

You cautiously lower your body into the snowpack below you, clutching your rifle in your grip while your eyes fixate on the moving figure ahead of you. 

Your finger grazes over the trigger of your carbine rifle.

A leg comes before the torso, then the face. 

The skull mask.

Ghost.

Relief washes over you immediately—raising to your knees.

“Lieutenant!” You call. 

His head immediately snaps in your direction, and the time spent staring at each other seemed everlasting, though in reality it was just a few seconds before his large hand was squeezing your shoulder and he was right in front of you.

“Thought we lost’ya,” Ghost rasps.

“What’s the sitrep?” 

“Enemy force has ordnance on standby—Price ordered all units to the West Safehouse,” he says.

You nod softly. 

“Why’d you hang back?” 

His eyes widen under his balaclava and you open your mouth to speak—Ghost tugs you by your vest, pulling you to the side.

“Gh—“

There’s a person behind him.

Sounds muffle around you, complete silence surrounding you as Ghost’s head is slammed with the butt of a rifle. 

Your hands reach down to pull your handgun from off of your hip, pointing it towards his attacker, squeezing on the trigger and unhesitantly dropping him to the ground before he can double back and finish him off.

No words leave your mouth as you turn in one quick jerk, the barrel of a L1A1 being aimed between your eyes. 

Not even seconds later was the thick handle of a bowie knife met with the back of your head. 

Immediately, your body meets with the snow, and you feel the coldness of the snow over your mask. 

You struggle to pick up your head, pain surging in the back of your head enough to blur your vision. 

Keeping your eyes open was a challenge—they constantly blink shut as you watch the enemy force yell at each other, manhandling Ghost by ripping his weapon sling off of him and dragging him by his fur-lined parka. 

His body was dragged up into a Humvee and roughly thrown in before you were picked up by your ankles and wrists and tossed right on top of him.

Your head slumps against Ghost’s bicep as you're washed up by incapacity, your mind fogging against your will. Enervation holds you captive and sweeps you off your feet. 

You’re met with blackness, next, yet the only thing you could think of was your failure to protect your superior.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

You awoke to the sounds of struggling—something teetering on the floor. 

It takes a moment for you to come to your senses and stir from unconsciousness, eyes fluttering open to take in your surroundings.

The ever-present smell of waste and deteriorated flesh smacks you with reminiscence, the overbearing cold, the taste of grime, blood, and bile in your mouth. 

When you go to move your hands, they’re immobile; binded by thick ropes that with your state of exhaustion and physical weakness, would be impossible to escape from. 

Your heavy head manages to shift for oneself to observe the room—your gear was purloined, leaving you in your cargos and a tank-top.  

Below you, the ground was concrete and stained with blood that led to the large metal door that had a closed hatch. 

Vaguely, you recall in short and brief flashes why you were there, your eyes shutting for a few moments before opening once again.

Ghost.

Where was Ghost?

“Lieutenant,” you cough. “Ghost, wh—“ 

“‘M here, kid.” Ghost wheezes. “To’yr left.” 

Your head turns, stopping at the sight of his mask on the concrete, blood smeared across the maw of the skull, over the eye socket. 

“Ghost, are you injured?” 

“No.” 

Slowly, your eyes trace up the ground beneath you until Ghost’s boots are in view. 

His soles skid against the ground as he attempts to drag the dentist chair he’s strapped in. “Fuck!”

You shift in your wooden seat in an attempt to reach your hand down to pull up the velcro flaps of your cargos. You couldn’t reach.

Ghost’s boots stop skidding against the floor as the metal door’s rusted hinges creak, the door being flung open to welcome a man inside—three other men were behind him holding military grade rifles with drum magazines.

The man inside the room raises his hand, offering departure in the Hindi language, to which his men shut the door behind him.

His arms were wrapped behind his back, the sound of his heavy boots echoing off of the thick stone walls. 

He walks around the room for a while, allowing you to raise your head to take in who he was.

A European man that’s approximately 184 centimeters with long pushed back shaggy dark hair; his eyebrows arched, a bushy beard. 

On his cheek, a nasty deep laceration scar that reaches the end of his eyebrow. Under his left eye, another scar reaches the bridge of his nose. 

The man is inches from your face, now, a tilt in his head. 

“We see how long it takes to break you, Sergeant.”  His eyes crinkled as his lips upturned in a depraved smile. 

He lifts himself from his bent position, grips the crest rail of the chair, and pulls you farther from Ghost.

“Who is your commanding officer?” He asks, feet spread apart as he looks down at you to assert his dominance.

“Fuck you.” You bite back.

The man’s hand roughly takes hold of your chin, tilting your head up towards the dangling ceiling light. 

“I eat boys like you for breakfast.” 

Ghost chuckles beside you.

His eyes narrow as he releases a choked scoff, his head swinging back before bursting into laughter.

“My drug ring reigns across the entire country—my men swarm all city.” 

His accent is thick, though his English  isn’t terrible. 

“It is either you tell me now and you and friend die quick, or you die slow of bleeding until we find on our own.” 

“Good fuckin’ luck,” Ghost grunts.

You swallow thickly, groaning as the man pulls your head back by the scalp of your hair. 

You purse your lips as you collect saliva from the walls of your mouth, spitting just above the man’s eyebrow and watching as the gob runs down over his eye.

He snarls, dragging an open hand down his face. Using that same hand, the male flexes his hand into a fist and socks you in the jaw. 

“Hey!” Ghost shouts. 

You hear it pop and you immediately outstretch your neck and slam your forehead into the bridge of his nose, arms jerking in an attempt to escape your restraints. “You motherfucker!”

He lets out a groan, his head flinging back as blood streams down his nostrils, his hand trembling over his nose.

“Bitch! Madarchod! Bevakooph veshya…” He hisses through clenched teeth. “Broke my nose!” 

His palm smacks you across the face so hard, a pinkish red hue starts blossoming across your cheek. He repeats it again, then again, and again. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself as numbness circles inside the flesh of your cheek, a similar feeling to those static electricity globes that you’d get for your twelfth birthday and press all five of your fingertips against.

“Hey! This is between you an’ me, a’right?” Your lieutenant gives a sharp nod, trying to reason with the man. 

He stares at Ghost for a few moments, squeezing his fingers in his fist before leaving the room, the door slamming loudly behind him.

You take the moment to actually look at Ghost, your eyes taking in his features entirely.

From his long and messy dirty blonde undercut, to his shade and stubble. 

To his bruised and bloodied lips and the thick scar running from his top lip to the underside of his chin.

To his thick and beautiful eyebrows, the scar on the start of his left eyebrow, running down to the bridge of his nose.

To his deep and all familiar brown eyes—long and light eyelashes accompanying their shape.

To the scar that spread out from the right inner corner of his lip and across his cheek as if it was the engravings of a smile line.

There were several scars littered across the male’s face; each one of vast distinction from the other. 

Once again, the door thrusts open and the man returns, cotton wads up his nostrils with another male by his side, pushing in a rolling mayo stand with different tools and items you assumed were torture devices.

“Hey! Hey! What’re y’doing?” Ghost jerks in his seat, his eyebrows furrowing as the man picks up a syringe, flicking the glass and squeezing out a droplet of the liquid inside. “What th’fuck is that?”

“You will have your answer soon enough,” he simply replies. 

“Agarwal—blade.”

The second man grabs the rotary tool from off the tray, a saw blade in the other. 

Your hands tug against their bindings enough to chafe your wrists, it feels as if your skin is being shredded with a cheese grater. 

“Paip rinch, ab.”  The taller man holds out his arm, to which the man who was now identified as Agarwal hands him a pipe wrench.

“English, asshole.” You grunt.

He slings it over his shoulder and slowly walks towards Ghost as he whistles. 

Ghost’s eyes don’t avert from his gaze, even as the pipe wrench drops from off his shoulder to clatter on the floor, hanging from his wrist and dragging along the ground.

“Who…is…your…superior?” His voice is grim, each word coming out as he takes a step.

Using the hook jaw of the wrench, he lifts Ghost’s chin.

“Piss off,” the blonde huffs.

Not even seconds later does the man swing the wrench around and belt it into his stomach. Ghost lets out a wheeze, his body lurching over in reaction to the sudden pain coursing through him. 

“No!” You yell. 

“Who.” He asks again with spite in his tone—he was demanding, it no longer was a question in his favor.

“You’ll know who when he comes’a knockin’ ‘n blows lead thru th’lot of ya.” Ghost says with a slight raise in his head.

The wrench is swung back into his stomach, causing Ghost to hurl and expel vomit onto his boots.

“Leave him the fuck alone!” You kick yourself forward a bit using your boots. Agarwal’s hands grip the slat of the chair and pull you back towards the tray.

“No, no,” he nearly coos, yanking your head back by the thinner group of hairs on the nape of your neck. 

You clench your jaw and subside, lifting yourself up with your hips to help avoid the pain.

His eye’s strain, beads of sweat rolling down the end strands of his hair regardless of how cold it was inside of the formidable room.

“Get me my player,” the bearded man says as he trails his 12” redwood handle knife across Ghost’s jawline.

Agarwal’s hand releases your hair to your relief and he leaves the room. 

“Disgusting—“ the male snarls. “Making mess of my floor.”

Your eyes narrow as you watch a pool of blood start to form as he slashes Ghost’s cheek, a groan spilling from your lieutenant’s throat.

“Fuck you ‘n y’r floor,” Ghost coughs. 

He drops the wrench to the floor, then uses a rag that was hanging out of his pocket to swipe off the blood from the knife’s blade.

Two men walk in, one pushing in a record player and the other holding a tactical vest and a book.

Your vest and your book.

His name patch reads “Gamble”, the one who throws your vest and the book onto the floor. 

“Rolmuth, the woman—she has had access to our radio frequency and has been writing down our shipment codes and locations.” 

Ghost’s head raises, his pupils shrunken as he takes in the sight of the morse code book. 

The man holding the knife cracks his head in your direction before proceeding towards you.

“Thaye…” he susurrated.

You don’t flinch when his arms raise to swing the knife over towards your temple, a maniacal laugh escaping through the barriers of Rolmuth’s teeth. 

The knife lowers to release one of your hands, though before you can reach for anything, he slams your arm backward against the back leg of the chair, the feeling of your bones snapping beneath your skin causes you to let out a sharp, excruciating cry as your now-broken arm falls limp to your side.

“Thaye!” Ghost shouts. “Fuckin’ bastard…” 

“How?!” Rolmuth yelled through his teeth, lips drawn back in a snarl as he nearly foamed out of his mouth. 

His fist meets with your cheek and your eyes squeeze together in grimace to the pain as he punches you again. 

Ghost calls out your name and you can hear the metal of his chair scrape and grind against the ground. 

You feel your cheek begin to swell, the tender flesh on your face blooming into purple and blue bruises.

He walks to the record player and takes a record out of its sleeve that was resting on the shelf of the small table the player was brought in on. It has wheels on it—similar to the mayo tray.

Rolmuth blows on the record, though the sleeve looks too clean to hold any dust, then places the record on the platter. After pressing play, he drops the tone arm down.

The record scratching sends chills up and down your spine before the music almost beautifully fills the room.

Why does the sun go on shining?

You watch Rolmuth pick up a pair of pliers.

Why does the sea rush to shore?

You wonder if he’s going to try to rip out your teeth.

Don’t they know it’s the end of the world,

He clasps them around one of your fingers on your broken arm.

Fuck.

The cold metal around your finger makes you nearly want to cry.

‘Cause you don’t love me anymore?

He was going to rip off your finger.

“Who is your captain?” His hand squeezes the pliers, applying pressure to your singular finger. 

“Go…to hell—“ 

A scream rips itself from your throat as you feel your sinew and flesh tear, the pliers tearing your finger from off your bone.

“Tha’s enough!” Ghost jerks and flails in his seat, there’s a sip of panic in his voice. “Get th’fuck off of her!” 

Why do the birds go on singing? 

Rolmuth wriggled the rest of your finger off, your eyes daring to skim down to look at the bone sticking out from your knuckle. 

Blood spews out of the gore, coating your entire hand and dripping from the crevices of your skin into your lap, staining your cargos, turning their white color into several distinct shades of red.

Rolmuth sets the finger—your finger down lightly on the standing metal tray besides you. 

Why do the stars glow above?

A penetrating ringing fills your ears; one so loud it felt like it’d be the cause of your tears instead of the pain surging through the entire left side of your body.

Don’t they know it’s the end of the world?

You’re in shock, unable to speak. Your jaw is locked, your teeth are clenched so hard it feels as if you might shatter your teeth. 

It ended when I lost your love. 

Ghost’s voice echoes in the back of your mind, when he calls out your name, you’re pulled out of your trance. You jerk your slumping head up.

You want to call out his name, but it seems like your throat is swallowing every little word that is being screamed inside of your head. 

The room is spinning and you can’t feel your arm, you can’t feel the finger move that was just severed from your hand.

“Look at me, look at me, love…” your lieutenant simpers. 

Your eyes search the room until they land on Ghost’s, he sounds far away. You feel your eyes widen as cold metal wraps around another finger once again. 

Why does my heart go on beating?

Rolmuth’s lips close in near your ear as he tugs lightly at your middle finger. 

“You don’ want to lose this finger, do you?” You feel the man’s hot breath run up the side of your face and brush past your ear.

“Who…is…your...captain?” 

Why do these eyes of mine cry?

Every nerve in your body seized, your spine stiffening with every urge to kill the man standing beside you. 

Ghost coughs up blood; internal bleeding. 

“I’ll fu…cking…skin you…” you croak, your words finally becoming coherent.

He laughs. Rolmuth’s single arm raises in a humorous gesture of surrender. 

Don’t they know it’s the end of the world?

Your eyes squeeze shut, though shoot open at the rush of heat, the pliers applying clutched pressure to your finger before Rolmuth started ripping off the second finger, wiggling it until it broke off skin and sinew. 

It ended when you said “goodbye.” 

“Look at me, Thaye.” Ghost’s voice sounds desperate, so you offer him a short glance as your jaw slacks and your body retracts.

Your strained eyes snapping to the bearded man as he places down your middle finger on top of your pointer finger.

A gag surfaces in your throat and your body twitches as you watch your finger fall and roll almost as if it’s the most natural thing. 

Ghost yells your name again.

You finally focus on him, your eyes welling up, reddening and puffing against your will.

“Jus’ look at me, angel,” Ghost’s silked voice calms you, although in a manner you can’t hear him as well as you want to. 

Every muscle and ligament inside of you feels tense and stuck.

Why does my heart go on beating?

You had three fingers on your left hand—three fingers.

Thumb, pinkie, ring. Thumb, pinkie, ring. Thumb, pinkie, ring.

“Y’ll kill her, she’s losin’ too much blood—she’s goddamn delirious!”  

Gamble’s fist barrels into the side of Ghost’s head, you hear a feral groan leave his gullet.

At least I can still put a wedding ring on my left hand. You thought.

Those three fingers trembled and twitched, it was the only movement on the left side of your body besides for your left eye—is he going to take one of my eyes? Your head is swarming with thoughts.

“Ghost…” you slur, still locked onto the blonde’s eyes. 

“I know, love,” he says as gently as he physically can. “So proud of’y…” 

His speech comes out as a garble, but you’re still able to understand him. 

“‘M gon’ get us outta here…alive, a’right?” 

Your head slumps at the attempt of a nod. 

“Save y’r energy, lovie.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Agarwal grips Ghost’s earlobe, pulling him closer. You’re not able to cognize his words, but you’re aware of the vexation in his countenance. 

You flinch once Rolmuth drops the pliers on the metal tray. He removes his latex gloves that were blanketed in your gore and throws them onto your lap. 

“Clean them up—she still is of use to me.” His voice grows more distant as he leaves the room.

Gamble injects Ghost with a syringe that was hanging off of his waist, casting him with drowsiness, his eyes struggling to keep open before he’s blacked out.

“What did you do—…what did y’do to him?” Your eyebrows stitch together. “What did you do?!” 

They unstrap his arms from the chair, then his ankles.

“Answer me goddamnit...” You seethe, tears warping in your eyes.   

“Shut the bitch up,” Gamble nudges Agarwal in the shoulder before he pushes Ghost further out of his restraints, his body still and unconscious allowing the scarred man to bind his wrists with zip ties. 

Agarwal simply nods and paces toward you. The stock of his gun smashed into your jaw before you could react.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

DAY TWO.

The woman in the doorway was bedraggled; tired eyes and shrunken tear-stained cheeks. 

There’s a light illuminating from the pulled-back curtains—a light so bright it could dry the shining tears that spill out scarlet fluid over the eyes of the miserable.

You feel only patient while waiting for the morning sun to rise over the horizon line of the ocean side.

It’s deteriorating yet caliginous frame of murky grey stone and vast sorrow of an arched entrance sat in disposition from harrowing memories filled with bloodshed, grief, and war.

Your face relaxes at the distinctly ravishing but delicate overcasted ray of light shot down from the amidst along the ruins, the melancholy ambiance nearly sent chills down your spine.

Heavenly cries of forgotten mothers begging for forgiveness of their past sins, children's playful and beatific screams, although it was nothing unknown to you.

Screams were usually followed by split rib cages and bullet wounds—tears, blood, those screams and sweat, you went through it all just for it to lie unheard and forgotten.

You searched the odd and seemingly afterlife-like realm with your eyes, you could only wonder where you were, and why you were there.

Why the flowy white dress draped over your body oscillated with the wind in a gorgeous motion.

You're lifting your head out of the water now. 

The taste of salt seems so thick, heavy. Like you could drown in it. Like you could get drunk off of it.

The waves crashing onto shore sound so loud atop the eerie silence, their white crests phasing through your body as if your presence was unknown to them.

You loved the ocean because as opposed to the ones who were supposed to; the ocean loved you and was never afraid to come too close, even at your worst.

As you move farther from shore, the water slowly travels up your body, submerging your frame. 

You close your eyes as your head is the last thing the water consumes. You feel the water bubbles tickle your skin and elevate themselves up to the surface. 

It doesn’t take long for that familiar burn inside your lungs and that familiar feeling of being gagged by the water to swarm your senses.

Your head jerks up and you let out a loud gasp as you fade into consciousness, slipping into colored imagery instead of just monochrome. 

Waking up felt like hell; your mouth was dry and most of your limbs felt unresponsive. 

Only when you see Ghost curled up on his side, laying on the floor in front of you, are you able to register where you are and what’s going on.

His knees bucked up into his abdomen  with his hands zip tied behind his back and his face battered and bruised. 

Specks of dried blood ran from his scalp down his face reaching his compression undershirt. 

He was asleep.

There was a gentle rise and fall with his chest—you could still hear his labored breaths from where you were. 

It felt colder. 

Your eyes wander down to your left hand that was wrapped in bandages that were stained red, your two fingers missing and replaced with nubs that were uneven from each other.

If your arm wasn’t broken, you could use it to break the leg of the chair and wield  it against the next person to walk through that large metal door that made you wonder if it was life or death upon you.

If your fingers weren’t missing, you could use them to untangle your restraints on your other hand.

You could barely move your wrist—the pain that swells your entire arm makes it nearly impossible.

Ghost stirs on the floor, his body curling into itself further before his legs straighten out. 

“Lieutenant,” you mumble. “What did they do to you…?” 

His eyes flicker to yours. 

“‘M alive, aren’t I?” Ghost says.

His voice is so hoarse and weak—he sounds dehydrated.

“You are.” 

Your eyes close a moment to allow yourself to breathe in the air around you.

The single door breaking up the dull room that held them hostage creaks open on rusted hinges allowing Rolmuth to enter.

Two different men from the day prior push in the same record player and the same rolling metal tray that was stained with your blood. 

“Rise and shine,” one says, his boot meeting harshly with the lower section of Ghost’s back.

 The blonde’s eyes stay intent on the movements of Rolmuth as he lifts up different record sleeves to read their names. He slides one out and places it on the platter.

That familiar sizzle fills the room before the gentle hum of the music begins.

A short gasp leaves your mouth as Rolmuth kicks down your chair by the back stile, your head immediately jerking forward before it slams down onto the cement floor.

He dismisses the two of his men.

Rolmuth’s hand levitates over the tray and he grasps an old tan hand towel, draping it over your face.

You can hear the buckle of Ghost’s pants tink lightly on the floor as he jerks himself. “Fuckin’ bastard!” He yells.

I don’t want to set the world on fire. 

It was going to be okay, you told yourself. You trained for this. Truthfully, you were one of the best swimmers on the task force. You can hold your breath—but if that rag manages to cave in, you’ll most likely panic and lose focus.

I…just want to start a flame in your heart.

“Are you ready for talk, now?” Rolmuth arches over you. 

In my heart, I have but one desire…

Your voice muffled, you call him something along the lines of an asshole and a prick, which is quickly silenced by the pressure of water that smacks you in the face.

And that one is you, no other will do…

Ghost watches the man pour a jerry can of water over your face. His breath hitching in his throat watching your body twist and turn trying to evade from the water. 

I’ve lost all ambition for worldly acclaim

Your body arches up in protest, head jerking side to side as if it would make it any more easier on you.

I just want to be the one you love…

Focus on the music, you tell yourself. You can barely hear your own voice. 

And with your admission…that you feel the same,

Rolmuth’s smile is ear to ear as he continues tipping the canister over your cloth-covered face.

I’ll have reached the goal I’m dreaming of, believe me…

You violently thrust your body, panic surging  through you as you feel water invade and swallow your lungs. 

I don’t want to set the world on fire…

Involuntarily you gasp and choke in more water, you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head.  

I…just want to start…a flame in your heart.

Your throat was burning like scolding lava, your heart throbbing inside your chest threatening to rupture. You don’t dare to make noise. 

You’re gagging, gasping, sputtering. That you can’t handle. But you don’t let yourself cry. Not like this.

I don’t want to set the world on fire, honey,

The music is starting to garble. 

Why is it starting to sound so distorted? You ask yourself. 

I…—you too—uch.  

“Stop, y’ll fuckin’ kill her! Bloody tosser!” Ghost grits his teeth before spitting out words.

Now that you have the chance to think about it, that song reminds you of someone.

I just want to start…

Your grandfather—you’d sit on that circular crocheted rug and listen to that song as him and your grandmother baked apple fritter.

A great big flame…

He loved that woman more than life itself; when she’d started to get sick with bone cancer, he helped her bathe, he helped her eat, get dressed. 

Down in your heart.

Your mother told you about how he had asked her doctor to keep the fact that she only had three weeks left to live just between them. 

You see, way down inside me,

She was still happy. So happy. He wanted to spend those last three weeks with her. He retired from his job and took her to all the places she’d talked about visiting. 

Darling, I have only one desire. 

She passed away, and he spent every day doing all her favorite things. He watered her plants, he baked. He listened to her favorite songs. 

And that one desire is you, 

He adopted a puppy—a beautiful Australian Shepherd which he named after her. Your mom would say that your grandma’s being was reincarnated into that dog. 

And I know nobody else ain’t going to do. 

Would that happen to you too? Who would you want to belong to? What kind of dog would you be? 

A deafening ringing fills your ears, you finally stop fighting. Breathing.

“She’s not movin—“ Ghost wheezes. “She’s not fuckin’ movin’!” 

He was trained for this. He couldn’t break. He couldn’t.

“Enough!” The blonde yells again.

They could crack him, but they can’t break him. They wouldn’t kill her. 

Rolmuth finally puts down the canister and removes the rag from off your face, his body bends over to lift your chair back up. 

Your body twitching, struggling to release the water clogged in your gullet

“Wake up, bitch,” he snaps and his open palm cracks against your cheek. Your eyes shoot open.

Your mouth opens, your strained and bloodshot eyes widen with horror as you vomit out water, sputtering between your lips as you hack and gag. 

The taste of bile is sickening to your empty stomach. 

Ghost calls out your name, catching your attention as you stabilize from your state of stupor. 

“So proud of’ya, Thaye,” he groans. “Y’r strong, ‘lright? We’ll kill these bastards, all of’em.” 

You can hardly spare the man a small nod before your chin is grabbed by Rolmuth’s uncut nails—blood and dirt caked underneath them.

“You tell who you are work for, I consider sparing life.”  Rolmuth runs a blade across your cheek, increasing the pressure slightly to slit your skin—a feeling similar to a paper cut. You moan in pain. “Your friend I can not speak for.”

Blood trickles down from the incise, slowly flaring through your cut and pushing from the barriers beneath your top layer of skin. 

“F…uck…—“ your silenced by sudden metal on your tongue, scraping gently like a threat. 

“I will carve out ur pretty little tongue, cut it in bits, and feed it to you.” Rolmuth coos. “Would you that, yes?” 

“Y’sick fuck, get th’fuck away from ‘er!” Ghost attempts to jerk himself up, the bonding on his ankles not allowing him to, his bruised ribs protesting in pain as he lets out a sharp breath.

Your eyes burn into his, your neck flinching as he slowly pushes the blade farther down your throat, his hand prying your mouth open. 

He chuckles lowly, small “ah’s” leaving him as he slowly opens your mouth farther to allow the tip of the knife farther down. You salivate, drool racing down your chin and over the creep’s knuckles. 

Ghost’s eyes divert from your face to the man’s hands. Disgust laced in his features. 

He swallowed thickly, he could feel his skin boiling. He wasn’t angry. 

Pissed.

He was incensed. 

More than that. 

“G..host…” your slightly muffled voice trembles.

His gaze fixes back on yours, watching as your left eye twitches at each of Rolmuth’s motions. 

“I know, love…J’s look at me, ‘lright? J’s look at me.” 

It presses onto the skin of your tongue, it’s curved edge digging into the fragile skin and tissue causing the metallic taste of iron to taint your sense of taste.

You still bore into your lieutenant’s gaze.

Saliva and blood dribbles down your neck, the sight no doubtedly arousing the male in front of you—his tongue leapt out to slowly trace along his bottom lip.

You might drown in your own saliva at this rate.

Your lieutenant purses his dry and cracked lips, but he doesn’t look away. 

He takes the blade out of your mouth, rubbing it against the cloth of his pants to clean it. 

Rolmuth raises the knife and pierces your thigh, the feeling of cold metal hitting you first along with the shock, the sound of cloth tearing.

“I want names!” The man hollered, spit landing on your face just below your eyes.

Ghost watches your pupils shrink, his own eyes widening and slowly shifting to your thigh. 

An intense tingling sensation swarms your entire leg, then a heat. A heat that felt unbearable. 

Ghost searches for your eyes again, his mouth moving, though you can’t hear anything he says.

He broke through skin and sinew, twisting the knife inside of the laceration.

“Talk, bitch!” Rolmuth’s eyes darken. 

It takes a few moments for the pain to surface, and when it does, it’s scorching. Your jaw slacks open as your eyebrows pinch together, a shrill whimper escaping you. 

“Don’ look, don’t.” Ghost pleads with you. Even he was struggling not to look at your thigh.

It didn’t take eyes to tell there was blood bubbling from the wound and dripping down your pants and trembling leg. 

A narrow vertical split across the midsection of the flesh of your thigh. Your eyes didn’t leave Ghost’s.

Was his hair bleached? It seemed like such an unnatural shade of blonde. Brunette underneath. He must bleach it himself.

Rolmuth gave it one more twist, releasing a thin, raw, scream from your throat. 

Tears stung the corners of your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them get the satisfaction of that from you. Especially not you. 

“They’ll b’ere soon, Thaye.” Your lieutenant says.

“You are weak,” Rolmuth spits. “You will break.” 

He rolls his shoulders before gripping your pointer finger and holding a jab saw above it.

Your eyes flicker to Rolmuth’s and Ghost calls your name. 

“I want a name!” Rolmuth’s scream makes your head spin. 

“Fuck y—“ your voice is replaced with a high pitched cry followed by gasps and whimpers as Rolmuth’s new blade carved through sinew and bone. He lifts up your finger against the blade and with one swift movement, your finger falls onto the floor. 

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you, y’bastard!” Ghost’s lips twitching in pain mixed in with a whole lot of anger. 

Your body jumps up, an animalistic noise escaping your throat as you swing your head back and wince loudly, the pain in your thigh 

“Name! Or I take another!” Rolmuth yells just inches from your face. 

You couldn’t handle it—your vision is swarmed by black spots and your head is killing you. Your body is in so much pain you feel so much, but so little all at the same time. 

When your eyes roll to the back of your head and lolls, you can faintly hear the man yell ‘shit’ before you’re unable to comprehend what is happening.

Everything fades into a subtle blackness, and the last thing you hear is Ghost yelling your name. Screaming your name. 

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

DAY 4

You wake up to the sound of loud groaning and thumping. 

It takes you a few moments to register that you’re awake and you can actually move. 

So you do—you upheave your head and take in the light spilling in the room from between the iron barred vent. 

It stings your eyes, blotchiness surrounding your peripheral before you’re able to adjust to the light. 

Ghost is on the floor taking blunt forces into his lower abdomen—the blonde sputters out a cough as his entire body jerks at the contact. 

The man grips the neckline of Ghost’s shirt, lifting his head from off the ground as thick red paste runs down his split and swollen lips.

His legs lift themselves up in an attempt to propel his body up and out of the man’s grasp, but he falls flat as his neck is slammed back onto the cement. 

Before Ghost can gasp for air the moment his neck is released, a closed fist slams into his cheekbone, knocking the wind out of him. 

“Stop,” you rasp. “Let’im go…”

Ghost is twitching on the floor, blood spilling from his mouth. His entire face is caked in red flakes and black and blue blemishes—the entire left side of his face is fattened with knots.

“No…” you snarl.

The man whirls his head and glares at you, an amused expression of disbelief stamped onto his face.

“No?” He says cockily.

The man paces towards you and cuts off your bindings, bundles your hair in his fist and drags you over towards Ghost, you whine and raise your unbroken arm to try and pry his hands off, but he only tugs harder. 

He pulls your hair up until you're positioned on your knees, chin raised up and neck tilted.

You hear a click, it wasn’t a gun. 

He unsheathed a pocket knife. It was a fairly decent size. You were tired of seeing knives.

Ghost watches the man’s hand lower to your abdomen, fingers pirouetting across your delicate skin, it sends a shivering fear throughout your entire body like electricity. 

“Please…” you meekly whisper, attempting to pull yourself away, your body is so weak from lack of use. Your voice came out as a croak. 

His other hand holds a knife that teases the neckline of your shirt. 

Ghost thrashes against the floor attempting to wrestle out of his bindings. “I’ll skin you,” Ghost’s voice is hoarse.

“How would you feel If I just…” His fingers trace along the scars on your stomach. “Touch her, ever so lightly…Right in front of you?” The man snickers.

You yelp as his knife cuts a thin line down your blood-stained neckline until your cleavage is exposed. 

Tears surface the corners of your eyes. 

No, no, no, no…

“Keep y’r eyes on me,” Ghost whispers weakly. “That’s it, love.”

You feel your shirt tear entirely down the middle and fall down your arms, pooling around your wrists. 

Your vision blurs and your mouth starts to feel dry, teeth chattering in unison with your trembling lips. 

When the knife rests over the center gore of your bra, your breath hitches in your throat and tears bead down your cheeks. 

The blade slices through the cloth and immediately your hand rises to cover your nude chest.

Ghost’s eyes stay locked with yours, one half-closed from being beaten beyond his control.

You feel his facial hair scrub raw against your skin, sipping in your fear and vulnerability.

“Team Delta en route for seaside, Corbin, what’s your report?” 

His radio.

The man pauses and takes his hand off the midline of your ribcage to grab his radio.

“Delta, this is Pooch on standby—hostages are stable, the woman is awake.” 

You release a choked sob, causing the man to release the talk button and bash it against the side of your face, sending you straight onto the floor. 

“Thaye…” Ghost croons.

You clutch your chest with your one hand as you feel the right side of your face swell. 

“It’ll ‘b over soon,” you tremble, releasing a shaken breath. “They’ll find..us…”

“Shut the fuck up,” his voice is slicked with spite. “Both of you.” 

“Pooch, this is Delta, rog that. Don’t kill our intel—0-7, signing off.” It crackles.

You lift your head and turn it slightly, blinking causes the pain on your cheekbone to burn like acid. 

“Go to h—“ the radio is bashed into your face again causing your vision to swim and make your head stumble. 

The sound of blood trickling and hitting the floor fills your ears, your left palm flattens against the cold floor. Missing fingers wrapped to keep you alive, not because they care.

He punches the radio into your right eye. You keep your head down in submission.

“You wanna act tough? Get treated like you're tough!” He yells.

His hand tugs your head back—you can see your own blood splattered against the communicator before you’re met with the same fate.

Ghost watches as the man beats the right side of your face in with the butt of the radio until it’s practically unrecognizable—caked and blistered. Bruising and swelling so tender on your skin. 

He can’t do anything.

He can only watch. 

You whimper and cry, hissing through your tears while your jaw clenched, the radio mercilessly landing on the same spot allowing more blood to cascade from the wound. 

The last hit is the hardest, sending your numbing cheek staggering back down onto the ground, you wheeze. 

If Ghost’s hands weren’t tied behind his back, the man standing above the two of you would be a mangled corpse. He knew that. 

Your breaths are shallow and rasped. It feels like hell to breathe—to move your face. Crimson just pools beneath you as Pooch flicks off your gore from his communicator.

He grunts in disgust as specks splatter onto the ‘cleaner’ side of your face. Like water spots on a windowpane or glass shower door. 

When you hear the door slam behind you, it makes you flinch. 

Your body has broken into tremors now, maybe it’s not tremors—but your spasming. 

And your hand is still covering your scar-ridden chest, but you feel like you might pass out again. 

Ghost’s own breaths are ragged—you wonder if lunderneath all the blood on your face if you’d look just like him. 

“Sleep,” he rasps. “I’ll watch ya.” 

You relax as much as you possibly can, your single eye twitching shut in favor of your other one. 

All you’ve had these past four days was sleep, yet it didn’t replenish. It didn’t make you feel any less tired or exhausted. 

With your bones feeling brittle and sore, it was hard to shift yourself into the mindset of falling asleep, but you tried. 

You felt Ghost scoot himself towards you, possibly just to shield your unclad chest and give you a taste of comfort. 

Your eyelids feel heavy with pain and fatigue, your body stilling as you allow yourself to sleep.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

DAY 5

Your hands are tied above your head, a gag set between your teeth which you gnaw at in an attempt to drag it down to hang around your neck.

Ghost is a few feet away from you—both of you hanging on metal piping with rope around your wrists. 

Ghost’s boots were on the floor, he was too tall to hang like you, where you could swing your feet. Did they take your shoes? 

You watch the steel poker ignite in the industrial furnace; the end of it glowing all shades of red, yellow, and orange. 

It was two different tools Rolmuth was holding, now. They had two different symbols on each one that you were unfamiliar with. He was choosing.

Rolmuth spun the branding irons with his thumbs and pointers, chuckling dryly to himself as he approached Ghost, setting one of them back inside the boiler.

His boots were so loud, they echoed off the walls of the room they were in—It looked like some sort of boiler room, but you weren’t too sure. 

You two must’ve been in a warehouse of some sort. 

Rolmuth has to look up to look your lieutenant in the eyes. 

When they’d woken you up, they threw you a gray tank top, so you weren’t as exposed as you were before. 

The Hindi man pulls down Ghost’s gag. 

“460 degrees of heat on metal…” he says as he lifts the hem of Ghost’s shirt. “You talk, I spare you more scar.” 

“Go fuck y’self, y’manky twat…”  the blonde snapped.

An open mouthed yell left Ghost’s throat as the metal is lanced firmly over the middle of his stomach, tugging at his flesh and skin.

Ghost’s eyes squeeze shut as loud whimpers escape from him, ragged winces. 

“Stop!” you cry.

God, you’d never heard him in so much pain. You never thought you’d ever hear him scream in agony, in physical pain. 

You're forced to watch the smoke trailing up the rod, Ghost’s back arching in tormentation. 

“You piece of shit!” You twist and turn your body causing the rope to shred through layers of your skin. 

His muscles tense and his knuckles go white from how hard he’s gripping the pipelines holding him up. 

Rolmuth removes the metal from Ghost’s skin—it could be described as a flesh eating parasite; the way that his skin sticks to the rod as if it’s desperate for that contact.

A hitched gasp manages to make its way past his lips as he feels a tinge of relief, his body twitching and pained moans and hisses filling your ears.  

You jerk your body weight down, kicking your bare feet until you feel the metal start to dent. 

Rolmuth sets the iron back onto the furnace over a rack, he’s bending over to adjust the heat, the fire is roaring.

You tug your arms down and you let out a strained whine at the feeling of your wrists starting to bleed.

When the metal gives in above you, it creaks and drops you down.

You slide down the metal and Rolmuth’s body swings up from fidgeting with furnace levers and knobs. 

His arms are immediately reaching for his gun while you lift your legs up and kick the heels of your feet into his shoulder blades, hard. 

Rolmuth’s head slams back into the brick base of the furnace, he lets out a groan, his form dragging down and slumping against the floor.

Your body lands harshly on the ground, an excruciating response coming from the back of your head.

Black spots cloud your vision as you slowly try to regain your composure. Your vision is blurring, everything sounds far away and echoed. 

The gun slides across the floor.

Your jaw clenches as you pick up your heavy head, your eye searching for the gun regardless of the pounding that distracted you.

When you spot the muzzle, you lurch yourself forward and reach, finger grazing the trigger guard before your pulled back by your hair, earning a yelp to leave you.

Your lungs refuse to cooperate in your chest as your scalp is nearly torn from your head. 

Rolmuth growls with clenched teeth, pulling you away from the gun and towards him as he kneels himself over you.

This was the first time you were able to get a decent look at his face—if it weren’t for your messed up eye—but you only can see the rage dispersed over his face as his hands gather around your throat.

He slams your neck down, adding onto the pain thrusting through the back of your head.

“Bitch!” Rolmuth snarls.

You suck in your gag, causing panic and adrenaline to rush through your entire body as your binded hands thrash and attempt to push him off of you. 

You duck yourself, bend your leg and kick it against his ankle to heave yourself up with all your weight upwards. 

He exclaims in his native tongue, some of which you can only recognize as insults and swears.

Ghost calls your name weakly.

Rolmuth’s hands slip from your throat allowing you to breathe and sit yourself on top of him, you tug your body and maneuver yourself until you're behind the man, pulling the knot of your bindings against his throat and crossing them over. 

His neck lifts to try and give himself access to air, though you tug and hold his waist steady between your knees. 

You yell with your clenched teeth, the fabric between your lips making the muscles in your jaw ache. 

Him wheezing beneath you, fingernails clawing at your split and abused hands before he shifts.

“Thaye!” Your lieutenant hollers.

Rolmuth’s hands reach down to his vest to pull another gun, aiming it at your foot and pulling the trigger causing you to let out an agonizing scream, pain racking your entire body. 

The bullet shoots clean through, you knew that for sure. It was too close. 

Your grip on his neck loosens so you can slap the gun out of his grip.

In three quick motions, Rolmuth’s back atop you with his hands grasping your hair again, dragging you towards the furnace until your face is close enough to feel the heat radiate onto your face.

You feel the thickness of gore engulf your foot and drip down your toes onto the floor. 

Your grunting, muffled, and loud breaths make your head pound as the man squeezes your jaw and forces your neck towards the mouth of the forge. 

“No…” you snarl with bared lips, kicking your legs regardless of the pain, throwing yourself towards him to keep yourself as far from the flames as you could.

Rolmuth laughs dryly accompanying his guttural breaths, his body stretching yet keeping a firm hold on your mandible as he takes hold of one of the branding rods. 

“No!” Your eye widens and your hands reach up to push his face away from you.

“Fuck!” He growls, shaking his face to keep your hands off as he pulls the iron out of the furnace.

He wastes no time pressing it into your side regardless of the thin tank covering your skin, and the cloth does absolutely nothing in regards to the sudden gut wrenching sensation that makes it feel like your entire body was drenched in gasoline and set on fire with a blowtorch. 

Your cry is deafening to the ears and the smell of burning charred flesh is quick to fill your nostrils. You feel and you hear your skin bubble up, sizzle, then pop, then stick to the metal and entangle itself around the start of the handle taking the appearance of something similar to chewed bubblegum. 

Even trembling and shaking, you manage to find a way to position your hands so you can plant your thumbs into his eyes and use some of the only fingers you have left to press them into his eyes, causing the man to yell. 

Still, your screams aren’t matchable as your fingernails gouge into his sockets and claw at his eyelids, shredding through flesh easily as blood began to dribble down his face and over his lips like tears. You still manage to scream louder in anger than the man can in pain. 

Your fingers shove deeper into the grooves of his eye sockets, the organs are pushed so far back that blood sprays across your face and he finally releases the rod.

It clangs to the floor, and he starts sobbing in his native tongue, convulsing hands reaching up towards his red-painted face as you pull your gag out.

“Go to hell,” You seethe wobbly as you lift yourself and steer yourself behind him, taking Rolmuth by the nape of his neck and forcing himself inside the mouth, against the grills inside the furnace. 

He shrieks and cries, moving erratically as his face is engulfed by the fire. Slowly, yet quickly, his skin is shredded by the blazes and the bottom rows of his teeth are exposed. 

It takes him a while to stop making noise before you pull his head out and throw his twitching body onto the ground, then you finally allow yourself to lean against a boiler tank and take pressure off your injured foot.

You propel yourself off the tank by your palms and drag yourself regardless of your ankle to the edge of the furnace, turning yourself around to scrape the rope against the brick.

A gasp releases from your throat at the sudden relief around your wrists, the rope falling to the ground. 

“Ghost?” You lift your head. 

“‘M here.” He replies. 

“I don’t know if I can get up.”

“I know you can,” Ghost urges. “Find…” he sputters up blistering coughs. 

“…Fin’a knife, ‘n get me outta these binds, yea?” He huffs. “‘N I’ll do the rest.”

Your eye blinks as you grip the ankle of Rolmuth’s corpse, pulling him toward you to start flipping up his vest and pant pockets.

He didn’t have a knife on him. 

Got to be fucking kidding me.

A door is swung open, a singular set of footsteps stepping into the room.

Your eye searches for a weapon—anything that can deal enough damage.

A metal fire poker is hanging off the wall to your right, so you swing your elbows back and lift yourself up by the palms of your hands.

As quick as you can, you hoist yourself up by using the support of a metal deaerator, your arm sliding against it as you limp and throw yourself towards the wall creating a subtle thud. 

“What the fuck…?” A man’s voice murmurs.

You silently curse to yourself under your breath as you grab the fire poker off the nails that were being used to hold it up.

Using the heel of your injured foot, you shuffle against some shelving, looking between the gaps for the man inside the room. 

He’s holding a Fennec, nothing you haven't dealt with before. 

He’s twenty seconds to your left, carefully skimming along the floor with his eyes down the sights of his gun.

You pinch a metal screw off of one of the shelves and toss it into the corner closest to you to lead him your way. 

“Fuck,” the younger male jumps slightly. He looked young and lanky, at least from his physique.

When you hear his boots start to rub against the floor, you lift your head slightly to watch him turn towards your direction. 

Your fingers and nubs flex on the thin metal, it’s hard to gain a clear grip.

The man comes around the corner of the shelves, the sounds of his tactical gear shuffling alerting you when he gets closer until his helmet is in sight.

You immediately thrust the fire poker into the gap below his collarbone and into his scapula, dampening the fabric of his undershirt in that area as it rips. 

Out of panic and shock, his finger grips the trigger and you have to jerk him away before any of his bullets are able to hit you.

“Please!” The boy pleads, gun dropping to hang around his neck as he grips the caps of your shoulders. You only glare at him before plunging the fire poker further into that same spot until it tears and mauls through his back, sticking out on the other end.

He’s gasping out, but it’s almost like no air is exhaling, mouth held agape as his grip on your shoulders releases. 

You shout and cry out at every thrust until the hole carved into his skin is able to suck in the hooked tip. 

The male’s head falls and you allow his body to slump down and forward, the metal rod holding his stilled body up. 

You heave dryly and press a palm on the wall to support yourself, your foot is killing you—literally.

The blown out flesh and puckered skin walls made you want to barf. You could stick a finger through your foot and feel your pulsating muscles just hug around your finger. 

You lean down and unclip the knife holster from the gun belt, unsheathing it then hobbling around the shelving towards Ghost who was still hanging from the pipes. 

“Okay, okay…” you breathe sharply, struggling to lift yourself up onto the brick platform of the furnace, nearly stumbling off before you catch your footing. 

“Keep still,” you say, arching your hand to start cutting at his bondings until he’s dropped onto the floor.

Ghost lets out a loud groan, his arms clutching his ribs. They’d broken one of his ribs, maybe multiple. You both were in bad shape.

It takes him a moment to get himself off the floor as you seat yourself and scoot off of the hearth. 

He grabs both of the hand guns that had been dropped onto the floor, holding one out to you.

You unclip the magazine, then snap it back into the chamber at the sight of one missing bullet. 

It was the same one that Rolmuth used to shoot your foot. 

Ghost’s hand rests on your cheek, gently. “Y’did good, ‘lright?” He spoke with a lilt. 

“Can y’walk?” 

“A little.” You nod. “Fuckers took my shoes…” 

He lets his hand fall to check his magazine, then he nods. “‘Don’t know if I can carry ya with m’ribs.” 

“It’s okay, just don’t wait for me.” You reply.

His eyebrows furrow. “Bloody hell, Thaye, I ain’t leavin ya.” 

“I know but—“ 

“No.” 

Ghost’s half-lidded eyes glare at you, giving you all the warning to stop.

“Stay behind me.” 

He starts walking towards the door, slowly peeking it before leaving with you behind him.

Walking hurt—even while you only applied pressure to the heel on your injured foot, the muscles contracted and the pain was torturous. 

One man entered the hallway holding a box from another room, which Ghost took care of by shooting a single bullet between his eyes.

The box had opened and dropped glass equipment, alerting four others who had been lingering in the room he came from.

They yell and communicate in their native tongue, one sticking his head out of the door threshold to aim his rifle.

Ghost fires his pistol and the man swings his head back into the room, still opening fire into the hallway.

“Fuck!” You hiss, dodging the bullets and moving quickly behind a filing cabinet, lowering yourself down. 

Ghost’s back presses against a door to your right, pulling himself out of cover to fire at the man.

Two bullets miss and the third causes his head to fling back and smear blood as his body arches and falls down to the floor.

You lift your head and aim your pistol, gasping when your throat is suddenly hooked back from behind you. 

When the combatant turns you around and attempts to make a slash at your throat, you manage to extract yourself by gripping his wrist and snapping his elbow out of place, the sounds of bones snapping as he yells.

His knife drops from his hand and you scramble to pick it up from the floor.

You groan as his boot digs into your bandaged hand before you're able to pick it up, then his hand grips your neck to lift you up.

He wraps his arms around you and squeezes you, locking his wrists over each other at your back. You clench your teeth and jerk violently in his grasp.

Ghost is fighting four other men, locking them in the crook of his elbow and smashing their skulls between the doors.

The man holding you in position crushes you in his grasp even with his broken arm. He tries dragging you into another room.

“Let me the fuck go,” you gasp, causing the man to laugh. 

“You will regret ever trying to leave your room,” he utters. 

You breathe a moment, heart pounding through your chest as you swing your head into the side of his neck and sink your teeth into his skin with all the strength in your jaw. 

Crimson liquid seeps into your mouth and down the front of your neck as you yank out the flesh of his throat. You spit out the skin and blood, wiping your mouth and tongue against the skin of your arm as the man’s grasp loosens

His shoulder blades and chest are glistening in red, gore spurting out of the torn spot in his throat as his body stumbles and he’s gargling on his own blood trying to speak.

“Fuck you…” You shutter weakly, eyes slowly skimming down to the knife lodged inside your waist. 

Shit.

He must’ve stabbed you before lifting you up, your adrenaline pumping so fiercely you couldn’t feel it until now.

You stumble on your feet slightly, shaking hands lowering to wrap around the handle and pull it out of the slit.

The runnel of red paste turns into a thick stream down as it drenches your tank top. 

You lift your head slowly and throw the knife overhead across the hallway, hitting a man who’s pointing a handgun at the back of Ghost’s head. 

It’s blade spades into the back of his skull and makes his body wriggle down onto the floor.

“Ghost…!” You gasp and press your open palm over your soaking top and open laceration. 

Ghost steps over both legs of a bloodied man before shooting him dead and advancing towards you.

“Shite…” He huffs, gently removing your hand and placing it back after gaining a clear inspection.

His hands grip the hem of his shirt and roughly tear at the fabric creating a long strip, then he moves your hand aside again to tightly secure it around your wound. 

You hiss and groan, hand gripping his shoulder as he tugs and pulls at your body while tying the knot of the fabric. 

“I’s ‘lright.” Ghost mollifies as he scoops his arm underneath your armpit.

It offers you some support as he guides you both out towards a staircase.

It wasn’t a warehouse—you and Ghost were just in a basement that was turned into a meth lab. 

Boxes and boxes full of lab equipment scattered along the floors. 

You’d never seen such a big basement, one with torture chambers and stonework rooms. 

Hell, in the corner of the room with all the steel liquid tanks and chemical barrels. 

A woman is in bright blue hazmat coveralls and a chemical mask standing on top of a metal stool. 

Ghost raises his pistol and you lower it slightly with your palm, his eyes glaring at you with his head kept facing forward. 

“You can’t miss, we don’t know what corrosives are in these tanks. Is it worth it?” You keep your voice low, personal between the two of you.

He doesn’t reply, instead he looks forward, then squeezes the trigger and picks the woman off by shooting her in the side of her neck.

You swallow thickly as her body spasms on the ground, the stool getting caught in her ankle as crimson fluid rises and bubbles inside of her mouth. 

Ghost guides the two of you up the cobble stairs, one hand dragging up the wall and the other across your lieutenant’s wingspan.

Your eyes flash at the sudden two objects being thrown down the stairs, the sudden silence as they roll down step…after step…after step before Ghost is swinging you up into arms and yelling.

He’s breaching himself through the door, into open fire before the staircase you had come up from explodes into the emitting heat compressed air and blasts behind the two of you sending you both flying forward. 

Smoke engulfs the room, giving both you and Ghost coverage to get behind cover.

You're pulled by the back of your shirt behind a deep freezer, bullets flying and hitting the metal.

“Fuckin’ pricks got us pinned!” His head lifts over to fire at three of the men who have ballistic shields covering those firing LMGs behind. “‘N I’ve got four left.”

You can’t see through the thick smoke—you can’t breathe while wheezing into the crook of your elbow. “Seven,” you inform him. 

“Cover me,” Ghost grabs your arm for a moment, letting go and serving around the freezer. 

You follow behind him with a raised pistol, shooting off at any glares you're able to see through the fumes.

Six…Five…

A man steps out from cover behind a wine cabinet, but before he can fire his rifle, you pop him in the eye.

Four…

Ghost quickly crouches down and shimmies the rifle out of the corpse’s grip, grabbing at a magazine and stuffing it into his vest he’d managed to keep.

You groan and push over a bookshelf behind Ghost once you’re both out of the smoke. He takes aim and opens fire at three men, blowing holes in their chests before he rams into the fourth with a loud yell and slams down the stock of his assault rifle into his face until his teeth and nose are finely pressed into the persian rug.

You finish off two more who try to walk through the threshold of the room, turning your head over your shoulder at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Two…

You jerk yourself away before you get slugged by a riot shield, ascending yourself and shoving your firearm past the barriers of his lips from behind. You pull the trigger and his head flings as the bullet rings out and creates a sizable hole in the back of his head.

One…

Before his body hits the tile, you take hold of his riot shield and deflect the hail of gunfire from the individual who came emerging from the threshold corner.

You walk forward until his clip is empty to drive the shield into his vest-covered chest, stunning him so you can push it aside and fire your last shot into the underside of his jaw. 

Zero.

Bullets continue spraying throughout the entirety of the house while you make sure you don’t pass out from the amount of blood you’ve lost.

You grab the TAQ-V from off the floor and click a new magazine into it, shoving a spare into your back pocket before pushing into the same room as Ghost.

He’s piling bodies on the floor, wrestling for dominance over a knife. 

You fastdraw another handgun you’d grabbed off of one of the bodies and shoot the man in his knee cap to allow Ghost to gain the upper hand and pierce the man’s temple with the weapon. 

“Thanks,” he says gruffly. 

You nod softly, inhaling sharply as you feel wet blood pool around your uninjured foot. 

They took your shoes for no reason, like they had a use for them.

Maybe it allows you to move around more quietly, but it still disturbed you that they took the time to even peel off your socks. 

“What intel did y’know that we didn’t?” His chest is against yours, head craning down to keep the conversation between the two of you.

“Lieutenant, we don’t…” You pause a moment, your head spinning. 

Hunger, thirst, the cold, the blood loss. There was so much holding you hostage and you weren’t even able to comprehend how you were still standing—limping.

“Well, Seargant?” His voice is low, still holding the same husky British drawl.

“We don’t have the time for this, for now—“ Ghost shoves you aside before you can finish, raising the muzzle of his rifle to open fire on the men entering the room.

“Fuckin’ riot shields!” He pulls you behind a flipped over tattered blue couch that had already gone through its fair share of bullets.

A bullet flies and hits the side of the couch a hair’s breadth from your face. 

“Goddammit,” he curses while replacing the magazine in his gun.

The men brandishing shields push further.

When one reaches close enough, you run in front of the shield and grab the sides before he crashes into you. 

You turn him until his body is vulnerable to Ghost, your teeth ground into each other.

“Ghost!” You yell to catch his attention, head snapping in your direction to fire a single round into the back of his head.

You throw the body off of yourself and yank the riot shield to cover yourself, ducking your head as you recoil your fist and punch one of the men baring LMGs hard twice in the jaw.

You thrust the shield into the next, throwing it into his abdomen as he topples, finishing him off by shooting him down in the chest.

One turns with his M4 raised, but you turn your gun around and bash the stock into the base of his chest, then again into his cheek, swiping your leg across the floor and knocking him down then picking his head up and slamming it down on a thick shard of glass sticking upwards to finish him off. 

Ghost drops the last body, finishing off a magazine into his vest and throwing the weapon aside. You toss him another one, which he catches with ease.

“We’ll force upstairs, look f’r our shit, ‘n leave.” He says as he picks up a frag grenade from off a vest.

“There should be Skimobiles somewhere around here, the ones they were using in the FFO,” you nod.

“A’right,” he groans while rolling his shoulders. “On my mark.” 

He trudges past bodies until he’s at the threshold of the staircase, stepping up slowly with the grenade in one hand and his gun in his other.

You follow behind leisurely, eye down the scope of your rifle. 

He pulls the clip and tosses it up, arm stretching behind to press his hand against your shoulder blade. 

“Oh shit—grenade!” A man yells from upstairs before detonation. 

“Go!” Ghost immediately backs up off the wall and skips over two steps into the corridor, prefiring as he loops around a wall.

There’s already bodies and limbs splayed across the room from the combatants who were hit by the frag.

Your back rubs against the wall as you lean to shoot down the hallway, whirring bullets firing past you.

After a few back and forths between staying flat against the wall and leaning to fire off your gun, bodies drop and you’re able to progress down the hall. 

Ghost is somewhere on the opposite side of the house, you still hear heavy gunfire.

You pause at the sight of another man at the end of the hallway and you recognize him immediately.

The look in his eyes and the scruffiness of his face made your lips stretch in almost the most feral look.

Corbin, that was his name. Callsign ‘Pooch’.

Anger burns in the depths of your lungs and stomach as you grip the wall for support, lunging yourself forward to lift your feet over each body that was littered across the hallway floors.

Sweat ran down the sides of your face and splotched down around the neck of your shirt with the blood.

You watch his face twist into a wolfish grin as he slings his gun over his shoulder and walks towards you. 

“Alright, sweetheart.” He purrs. 

White noise fills your ears.

All you can see through the glossy shine of your eyes is the man who humiliated you in front of your superior. 

All you can see through the blinding red rage is the man who beat Ghost and cracked his ribs, forcing you to watch him retract and twitch at every fleeting fist. 

Even the hail of gunfire is silent in your ears as you drag your injured foot. Everything sounds underwater, everything feels dull.

His fist intersects and meets with your cheekbone causing your head to shift to the left and your body to stumble where you stand. 

You grip his wrist and divert his second punch by lifting your arm and thrusting your knee roughly into his thigh to tamper his movements.

He groans, with grim chuckles following after. “I’m going to enjoy every last second of this,” he coos.

Your body shivers in disgust as you slide your fingers down to your waist, priming the knife stuffed beneath the hem of your shirt. “Go fuck yourself…” you hiss.

His eyes flicker down to your hand and his boot immediately connects with the middle of your torso, sending you across the floor with a loud thud.

Pooch steps between your legs and lifts your upper body by the neckline of your shirt, his knuckles slamming down to beat on your already swollen face. 

Drool and blood pour from your mouth, a strangled gasp leaving you at every punch before he releases you harshly back down onto the floor. 

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, the pressure and swelling in your face and head being all too much for you.

A boot is savagely kicked into the lower pit of your abdomen, making you gag on air.

“Get the fuck up.” Pooch spits. 

You clutch your stomach and turn, slowly feeling for the knife, then quickly lifting the edge trimming of your tank top and grasping the handle, pulling it out and sweeping your leg around and behind his ankles to knock him off to the side.

He yells out swears as you level yourself over him, his legs kicking out to make your chest rest on the soles of his boots. 

Both of your hands grasp the handle of the knife making it easier on your lack of fingers. His hands grip your forearms as you cry out and try forcing the knife down on him.

He kicks his legs up and backwards, upending you over him and sending the knife flying. 

You hiss and give yourself no time to recover, flipping on your stomach and army crawling with your forearms to grab the knife.

He topples atop your body, planting a piercing slap across your face before reaching for the knife and propelling it downwards into you.

Before you’re able to block, the knife breaks through the skin in your stomach, your hand managing to grab his wrist before he’s able to gut you open.

You seethe and let out a sharp whine followed by a croaked cry, your other hand circling his wrist in an attempt to push him away. 

Quickly, you roll your body off to the side and let go of him, causing the knife to pierce into the wood flooring as you grip a console table to succor yourself up.

Corbin abandons the knife and flings himself upwards, swinging his gun into his arms. 

“I’m done playing games.” 

You advance on him, grabbing the rifle and pushing it into his chest before he can aim it at you.

One of your hands grip the upper hand guard while the other grips the bolt and holds the muzzle up.

You yank his body over towards the window behind you, turning your body then grabbing the man by the back of his hair and smashing his head through the glass.

It shatters from contact and leaves cuts and shards in his skin, a loud yell clawing its way from his throat.   

His finger grips the trigger and bullets roll out into the floor as you pull his head back.

You pull the rifle sling from off his shoulder, tossing it aside and disarming him from the X12 tucked into the back of his pants.

He growls at every tug of his scalp as you shoot him in the back of the leg and force him onto his knees.

A loud wail echoes the hallway from the man below you.

 “Shut your fucking mouth,” you snap.

“You don’t get to scream.”

“You don’t get to cry and whine like a little bitch.”

There’s no remorse in your voice, no sense of mercy for the man being held on his knees and whimpering.

You smack the magazine onto the base of his nose, blood dripping it’s way down his nostrils as a struggling noise spills from his lips.

“You…fucking….” he chokes on his own words. 

His entire body violently trembles at the tortured scream he releases as you squeeze the trigger again, shooting Pooch in his shoulder then proceeding to stick your thumb into the ravage wound harshly.

“Bitch! Fucking bitch!” He strains and pants like a dehydrated dog trying to jerk away from you.

You replace your finger with your foot, lowering his back against the floor as you press your toe into the bullet hole.

Another scream tears out of him as you blow another hole into the other side—his chest convulses.

Blood seeps from his mouth, you hold the grip of the handgun with both hands and sob out loud as you empty the entire magazine into his head until his face is unrecognizable to the amount of bullet holes.

You keep pulling the trigger, even as the gun starts to click announcing its out of ammunition.

The entire floor below you is covered in gore; flesh, messings of brains, blood, skin. 

So much.

Your body snaps around as a hand abruptly drapes over your shoulder, your arm raising the gun ready to bash it into the skull of the next man to try and touch you.

“Thaye, Thaye—y’got him! Thaye, he’s dead!”

Someone calls your name trying to snap you of out haze.

Ghost—your eyes soften with glistening tears as he calmly disarms you after deflecting the hit with his forearm, tossing the handgun aside so he can push you into his chest by the back of your neck.

“‘S over, sweet girl.” Ghost says with intonation. “Can’t hurt ya anymore.”

Your eyes are wide with terror, hands bundling your lieutenant’s shirt as you exhale a shaky mewl.

It’s him who releases you first, handing you your custom rifle and radio.

His balaclava is back on his face, along with the skull mask.

“Y’r vest ‘n boots are in the room I came from,” Ghost jerks his head.

You nod softly and shamble towards the doorway in the direction he’d pointed out.

You pause.

A little boy walks out of the threshold—he’s holding a gun far bigger than his head.

Your eyes widen slightly. “Did these men take you from your family?” 

You turn your head over your shoulder to call for Ghost, the sound of a bullet whirring filling your ears.

Ghost wastes no time pulling out his handgun and shooting the little boy in the head before running towards you.

Your right shoulder is screaming at you as time seems to slow down to a crawl. You hear Ghost yell behind you and the gunshot ringing as the little boy falls back and you do too, hitting the ground hard.

The masked man is on his knees in front of you within seconds, lifting your head into his lap.

“Thaye! Thaye, don’t y’fuckin’ die, not now…” He growls, applying pressure down onto your shoulder with both of his gloved hands.

Your lips slant in a tired manner, eyelids feeling heavy. His bloody hand kneads your cheek, smearing gore along your already dirtied skin.

“Fuck! Fuck!” he curses loudly. “Stay awake, love, please…”

God, he was hurting, it hurt to have your head against the burns on his stomach, but he wouldn’t let you die.

“Babygirl,” he says weakly. 

All you can see is an uncleanable amount of red seep and cover your shirt.

Your lungs clutch together inside your chest, labored breaths escaping you with a strained noise.

“I know…I know—keep those gorgeous eyes on me, sweetheart.” He inhales a shaky breath, flipping up your blood-crusted hairs from sticking to your forehead.

You whisper an apology, catching his attention as you grip his waist. Ghost’s eyebrows furrow.

“Don’t. Don’t say sorry,” he says. “You did this, you saved our lives, love.” 

“‘M just finishin’ the job, ‘lright?” His split and bloody lips find a place on your temple, planting a raw and long kiss to your throbbing skin.

“…’least I got to see your face before—“ 

Ghost holds you, squeezing your hand as a slight warning. “Don’t talk like that.” 

It was a demand. 

“That an—“ you spur into a coughing fit, blood spraying onto the man’s vest. “…Order, Lieutenant?” 

“Spare y’r energy,” he huffs. 

“Simon—“ you slur.

“Stop.” He snarls.

Your ragged breaths start to stray, causing panic to surge through the man above you.

“No,” he growls, squeezing your smaller hand in his a bit tighter than before. “Don’t, Thaye,” he says through clenched teeth.

Your body falls limp in his lap, the grasp loosening on his shirt making his heart pound through his chest, a painful pounding that felt similar to acid reflux.

“No!” Ghost yells, desperately palming at your tangled hair in panic. “Fuckin’ massacre,” he exhales shallowly.

One arm scoops beneath the back of your knees, the other across your shoulder blades with his hand holding your arm. 

A loud strained groan claws it’s way from his gullet at the sudden pain inside his ribs as he lifts himself up and off the floor. 

His muscles tighten inside his body, a burning sensation in his abdomen as he clutches you close to his chest, feeling your blood seep into his shirt.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

The gentle rhythmic beeping and steady flow of air through your nostrils was something that felt unreal and forced.

You slowly flutter your eyes open to light slipping in between the beige curtains. Your eyes are half-lidded and threatening to close against your will as your bandage wrapped hands rests atop the metal railing on either side of you.  

It smells of strong floor cleaner and hand sanitizer, a scent that is slightly uneasy on you as you slowly slip back into consciousness. 

Your muscles feel tight in your body; pain racking your shoulder and neck as you crane it to take a look around the room. 

The walls are spinning and the ceiling above you is spiraling making you sick to your stomach. 

On the bedside table to your left—closest to the window—there’s flowers. They’re too withered to try and recognize what kinds, shredding to flakes in your fingers when you caress them between your pinky and thumb.

Your hand drags up to pull nasal tubes out of your nostrils. It’s almost as if you’ve forgotten how to breathe air, throat tightening and lips so still from lack of moisture.

There’s a penetrating migraine in the back of your skull as you carefully swing your legs over the side of the bed, the thin baby pink and spotted hospital gown flowing down your sides leaving you slightly exposed in your thigh region. 

Bare and bandaged feet slide along the smooth cold tile, sending chills up your body as you grip the IV stand with your trembling hand, the other holding onto the bed railing for support. 

You groan and strain as you struggle to lift yourself up, propelling upwards with your palm and grip on the stand until your knees straighten and your standing up somewhat decently.

Where was Ghost? Is Ghost alive?

So many thoughts coursed through your head along with the punishing feeling of dehydration. 

You guide yourself using the wheels on the IV stand towards a counter, your hands gripping the handle of the sink and pulling it upward.

A choked moan manages to break from you as you scoop the water in your hands and swill the rich liquid. 

Water dribbles down your chin, which you wipe away before lifting your head to look into the medicine cabinet mirror. 

Your hand rests on the wall in front of you as you heave.

They cut your hair shorter, not too short but enough so that it was comfortable. Your entire right side of your face being bandaged, stains of blood being a faint copper color.

Bandages wrapped around your neck and reached down your shoulder you’d been shot in.

Your hair had been taken care of neatly while you were in a coma, that was obvious.

Ghost. Where?

You grip the IV stand and hobble towards the door, turning the knob and gripping the threshold with your other hand as you step out. 

A nurse pauses in her tracks, rushing to your side in an instant. “How are you up? Your injuries are critical,” she gasps, palm flattening against the small of your back.

“My lieutenant—…my lieutenant…” you say in an undertone.

“You need bed rest, you’ve only just woken up.” Her voice is gentle yet commanding.

“No,” you bark, shuffling out of her hold. “Please take me to him.” 

The woman bites her lip before nodding hesitantly, hand against your back again to guide you towards his room.

It was only a few doors down from you—when the nurse opened the door, allowing you into the room.

You see the back of Ghost’s head facing in your direction, his hair tousled from the bandages wrapping around his head.

“Ghost,” you call.

His head turns from facing the window to facing you, you hear him murmur your name in reply.

“Y’minx,” he breathes. “Hell y’doin’ out ya bed?”

You carefully walk yourself towards him, the nurse holding her hands atop her chest nervously. The sound of the plastic wheels of the stand makes his breath hitch in his throat, the sound of reassurance that you were alive.

“You okay, big man?” Your voice is hoarse from lack of use, but he’s able to that you perfectly.

“D’ya ever worry ‘bout y’self, love?” Ghost asks with a tinge of humor. 

Heavy casting was on his right leg, bandages and patches on practically every inch of his body—similar to you.

“Sometimes,” you smile softly and push strands of his hair out of his face, your heart slightly shatters in your chest at the sight of him flinching at your touch.

Ghost scoots himself over slightly, wincing at the sudden movement.

You seat yourself beside him on the large gatch bed and his hand pushes you down to lay beside him.

“Wait, Mr. Riley—“ the nurse takes a small step forward.

“I’ll ‘b fine,” he grunts.

Her eyes blink slightly as she takes a few steps back, her lips separating to speak though no words come out. She simply turns on her ankles and closes the door behind her.

Ghost secures an arm around your waist, pushing your back flush against his bandaged chest.

Your eyes trace his tattoos and the muscles of his arms, every scar and blemish.

“Where’s the force?” You ask quietly.

“Left recently,” he mumbles back tiredly, pressing his nose into your hair. “Y’smell like pomegranate—got y’self a damn spa crew while y’were out?”

You laugh dryly, breaking into a light fit of wheezes.

“Not too hard, Seargant.” Ghost’s finger tucks a loose strand of hair from your bangs behind your ear.

Your wet bandages on your hands rub against his knuckle as you hold onto his hand, he seems to pay no mind.

You turn your body slightly so you can get a better look at his face. “Odd seeing you without your eye black.” You quip.

His closed eyes open to look down at you. “Mm, might as well see m’down in me knickers then, eh?” He chuckles huskily.

“Very funny,” you roll your eyes lightheartedly. 

You catch his small glances to your lips, his hand leaving your chest to run his thumb down your bottom lip until that same hand is cupping your cheek lovingly.

His eyes narrow, he’s sleepy, but you still catch yourself propping your body up with your elbow and closing the gap between the two of you. 

Instantly, his head cranes and tilts to deepen the kiss, his fingers gently sliding down the side of your face to press his thumb into the underside of your jaw and drag his fingers along the nape of your neck.

Ghost breathes into your mouth, the taste of mint leaf and citrus enveloping your taste buds as his tongue laced over yours.

The kiss was passionate, you feel his eyebrows furrow showing his desperation as you both kissed softly at a gentle pace and motion.

Your eyes flutter open as you feel his warm lips leave yours with a quiet pop, both of you panting lightly with his forehead pressed against yours. Ghost’s eyes are unable to open for a few moments after you disconnect. 

When they do open, your eyes bore into his brown orbs, the dark purple hue circling under his eyes showing his deprivation of sleep.  

When he feels you buck gently back into his groin, he releases a small grunt, lips meeting yours again for a small chase kiss.

“Not like this,” he says quietly. “I’d take you on this bed right here, right now, but y’ve recently waken up ‘n we’re both still in r’covery.” 

You hum in agreement, his hand finding it’s place on your chest once again with the knowledge of your lower abdomen injury.

“‘N to b’honest—‘can barely feel m’damned balls, feels like ‘ve got whiskey dick.” He grumbles, and you bite your lip to suppress a giggle.

“Simon!”

“Don’ you laugh at me, woman.” Ghost lowers his head into the crook of your neck, biting the skin gently 

“My deepest condolences, Lieutenant,” you purr, catching his lips in another kiss when you jerk his head upward with your uninjured shoulder. He growls against your mouth in reaction.

There’s a long yet short line of silence as you turn towards his back again, your legs tangling with his as you hold your lips against his knuckles.

“Y’have no clue how strong you are.” He swallows the knot in his throat as he speaks. “God, Thaye, they…they told me there was a chance y’d never wake up.” 

“Hey,” you hum. “Stop that, I’m here now.” 

His eyes stare blankly at the wall ahead of you, maybe even the same wall you were staring at—if your eyes weren’t closed already. 

“I just don’ know what I would’ve done if I made it outta there ‘n y’didn’t make it with me.” He says. 

“Y’r the reason I made it out with you in the first place. If y’hadn’t pulled that barmy stunt—“ he pauses, and you feel the rise of his chest and the fall as he exhales deeply.

“Y’survived internal bleeding, trauma to the head ‘n eye, two broken ribs, second and third degree burns, asphyxiation, dismemberment, stab wounds and gunshot wounds..” Ghost squeezes his fist tighter against your chest. 

“So did you, Si.” You coo softly. 

“Christ…” he mutters. 

His fingers interlock with yours best they can, regardless of the most of them being numbs on your knuckles, and it wasn't until your hand rested on his chest and rubbed over the raised scars, that he realized he hadn't been touched so gently in nearly eleven years. It wasn't a new feeling, but it was a feeling that he had craved desperately. 

Never had fallen in love before, but he knew you had bad experiences with it—figuring out that your ex-fiancé had cheated on you while on deployment. Someone had to love you, and he was skeptical of it being him, but it was clear you loved him too and now he was scared you’d stop. 

But hearing your gentle breathing as you slipped back into sleep hunched into his form led him somewhere he’d never been. You cleared his mind and cleared away his thoughts. For the first time, he doesn’t want to look away from what he has the ability to feel.

#simon ghost x reader #ghostheartfelt #ghostheartfelt writing #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost mw2 hurt/comfort #ghost modern warfare #simon ghost x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley imagine

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO ; — nagi always seems to go pouty & quiet whenever he gets turned on at you doing the most mundane things

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings: f!reader, all characters written 22+, nothing too bad it’s literally just nagi getting hard over you eating a popsicle. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note: i cant even eat a popsicle by the pool in peace without thinking about this man, so consider this a gift from pool emmie :3

it’s too hot, nagi thinks to himself as he rests in the space next to you in the park — giving you a sleepy look from under his cap as he hides from the beating rays of the sun. he can feel the oversized fabric of his shirt sticking slightly to his skin but he’s trying his best not to complain because you look real pretty under that same sky, pretty grin on your face as you drink up the ice cold popsicle that you both bought from the convenience store a few blocks back.

he remembers the cute little smile you wore when you handed him his own, making sure to take it out the packaging for him because you know he always found them a hassle — giggling when he stuffed the iced treat between his lips with a muffled little “thanks. wanna sit down now.” as he let you drag him towards the park.

nagi doesn’t realise he’s zoned out, staring at you until he’s fixated on the way you pucker your lips around the flavoured stick between your fingers— it’s like you’re deliberately trying to be intoxicating. you lean back slightly onto the grass, distracted momentarily by the people in the distance before you gasp quietly when the juice seems to trail cool down your skin.

your lips trail deeper, swiping at the sweet droplets that paint along your skin as they suckle along the space and suddenly he can’t look away— he’s too obsessed with the way your eyes flutter, tongue curling around the length of your fingers next and it’s embarrassing the way he feels his cock twitch at the movement.

nagi’s breathing stutters and he almost chokes on his own popsicle as he urges himself to look away, feeling a flush sting at his cheeks as he casts you a glance — wondering if you noticed the effect just you cleaning yourself up seems to have on him as he sighs to himself. he readjusts his shorts as he tries to subtly press his palm into the slight bulge, swallowing with the slight friction and he swears he can feel every rapid beat of his heart in his ears as he twitches needily.

“seishiro~ are you too hot?” your voice pipes into the clouded thoughts of his mind and he turns to you just as you close your lips around your popsicle again, making his eyes drop to the movement as you bob your head to suckle at it before you pull back with a pop again.

“huh? nah ‘ts just no fair.” nagi says but he pouts with his words before he’s turning away from you again, trying his best to ignore just how cringe this whole interaction is for him right now. “why you gotta eat it like that? ‘ts such a bother.”

“huh? like what?” you reply innocently and you watch him cast you a sidewards glance before he’s swallowing and readjusting himself again. the outline of his cock becomes even more visible with every swipe of your tongue and flutter of your lashes, and suddenly he’s missing the usual oversized fit of his hoodies and sweats despite the way he’d probably pass out if he wore them in this heat.

“eh, like that. ‘ts a pain.” nagi tilts his head towards you as your lips wrap around the tip of your popsicle again and his shoulders drop with his next mumble.

“you’re not making sense, sei.” he really isn’t, this is how everyone eats them, except it’s you and you’re pretty and even watching you just doing the most mundane things seem to have an effect on him as he feels want bubble in his abdomen. you give him a look, taking in his puffed out cheeks and pouty lips under his slightly damp snowy bangs and you giggle as you lean back into the sun.

“hey, ‘s not funny. don’t laugh at me.”

nagi leans in a little, pressing himself into your side until his lips are ghosting yours when you turn your head to meet him and you’re surprised at the sudden public display of affection as his eyes take in your features. his gaze eventually falls still on your lips and he can’t help but imagine how much better the popsicle would taste along your tongue.

“watch, sei! it’s leaking. you’re gonna end up all sticky, you dummy!” you gasp and the moment of intimacy is broken as you jolt forward when you feel the sudden drip of your boyfriends popsicle smear along your thigh.

“eh, ‘ts fine. we can just have a bath.. ‘m all sweaty anyway, too much sun is such a pain.” although he’s pretty sure the heat building in his stomach is making him even warmer, curling to lick at the base of his spine as nagi tries to subtly readjust his shorts—but shit, you don’t make it easy.

it’s swift and instinctive the way you ignore him to grab at his hand, bringing it to your lips before you’re licking up the trail of sweet liquid that runs over his skin. he’s frozen, almost— except for the throb in his cock and the race of his heart when your eyes flutter to look up at him and he wishes he could push you even lower, feeling your lips press suckled kisses along his skin before your tongue is curling around the base of his lolly to clean it up.

nagi’s too hot and so fucking hard, feeling a twitch in his abdomen when your lips pop as you pull away and he clears his throat with the next, almost painful throb in his shorts — this is so cringe.

“see, no fair. you’re teasin’ me and ‘ts bothersome, angel.” he readjusts himself again before he’s giving you a drowsy, lidded look and leaning in once more, finally pressing his lips against yours before he’s pushing his tongue between your lips— languidly as he savours the sweet syrupy taste of you.

nagi melts into you as he kisses you, like he always does as he almost knocks you both over onto the grass and you try to steady yourself as he pulls away to breathe, grumbling before he’s licking at his lips and looking at you like he wants even more.

“tastes so good, i wanna go back to my room now, please. wanna taste more.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk smut #bllk x you #nagi x reader #nagi x you #nagi smut #nagi seishiro x you #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro smut

[ddarker-dreams]

play wresting — gojo satoru.

(Warning for mild not sfw implications)

“So this is it, then? I’ve finally… finally been bested.” 

From this vantage point, you tower over a certain melodramatic man, whose long limbs cover the king sized bed at awkward angles. His soft, snowy hair blends in with the stark white comforter. He tries lifting himself up, but his arms buckle from the exertion of such a physically demanding act. The feigned helplessness comes close to breaking your composure. 

“Humor a dying man’s final request,” Gojo rasps. “Did you ever love me? Or were you just after the money and status all along?” 

The term money and status reverberates in your head, taking you back to the rumors whispered behind closed doors by those opposed to your engagement. Gojo, being the person he is, delighted in playing into your supposed alternative motives whenever a ‘well-intentioned’ member of the more conservative factions tried tipping him off. 

“Babe? Did you hear that?” He had called you over once, a hand to his chest, as if he’d learned the most scandalous news. “This man here said you’re only after my assets. Is this true? I thought for sure it was my devastatingly good looks and charm that won you over.” 

(The face of the man in question went beet red over how loud Gojo spoke these words. Unsurprisingly, he slunk off at the earliest opportunity). 

You try assuming your role as the indifferent black widow here, looking down your nose at him. “Nope. I’ve been biding my time all these years.” 

You’re not sure what spurred him on to flex his acting muscles. When you entered the room, you were overcome with the urge to tackle him onto the bed. You’ve both loved roughhousing each other since you were in high school. Given the sheer, unfathomable extent of Gojo’s abilities, he was perfectly capable of dodging you or standing firm against your attempts. Alas, those two options must not have interested him. 

And so he’s writhing in faux agony, putting on a show, as he is wont to do. 

“Do I get any final requests?” 

“Hm,” you hum, fighting how desperately your lips wish to curl into a smile, “That depends. What is it?” 

Whatever he murmurs next is unintelligible. 

Curious, you step forward, urging him to repeat himself. He does. Despite speaking slightly louder, the syllables and consonants blur together, spoken in such rapid succession that your brain can’t piece it together. You draw close enough for your knees to hit the side of the bed. Whatever he’s planning, this must be the grand finale. 

This time, you understand him perfectly fine. You don’t know whether you should laugh or roll your eyes. Perhaps both. 

“Let me hit it, just one more time,” Gojo says these words as if in actual pain, successfully melting your apathetic facade. 

You can feel the satisfaction rolling off him in waves over the fact you broke first. Not willing to accept total defeat, you huff and pivot on your heels. You can feel his eyes boring into your back as you saunter toward the door. You answer the question that’s undoubtedly burning his tongue before he can speak it. 

“Consider your request denied. I need to start searching for my next rich husband — time is of the essence.” 

You gape as the once open door is now shut, faster than you could blink. In front of it is your apparently resuscitated Gojo Satoru, who acts as a human barricade. He extends his long arms out to ensure you’re not going anywhere. His grin is all teeth and his brilliant blue eyes gleam. 

“Sorry babe, this rich husband’s still alive and kicking. Better luck next time.” 

#an anon requested play wrestling with gojo and blade #but i love that concept so much i'll do a lil scenario for those currently in my Husband Rotation #starting with the white-haired menace #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo brainrot #my stuff

[taki-yaki]

What if after observing Astarion for a while Tav treats him like she would a cat: Giving him plenty of space, giving him time to approach her instead of approaching him, etc. This would make sense if Tav is a ranger, or any class who’s familiar with animals.

Bonus if Tav is accompanied by a big cat since Astarion is a Drizzt Do'Urden fanboy (or at least his VA is 😂)

This reminds me of Neil mentioning how he based Astarion on a stray cat he befriended, but I do like the idea that he does manifest some cat-like traits without realising due to his vampirism.

Astarion’s Cat-like qualities

As a beastmaster ranger, you’re familiar when it comes to the behaviour of various animals, particularly those of the large cat variety. 

Your pet familiar is a snow leopard, which you rescued when it was a cub from the fierce blizzards ravaging the snowy wastelands of Icewind Dale.

When raising the cub, you’d eventually get used to the habits they display being sometimes similar to that of a household cat, from them sleeping in high places to bringing you gifts every day of creatures it hunted as it’s way of thanks.

When you meet Astarion, you quickly pick up on his similarities with your feline companion. You were never sure whether it was from his mannerisms or his vampirism, but you attempted to get close to him by using similar techniques with stray cats.

During your evenings at camp, you sit by the campfire, wearing a loose collar shirt with your panther companion lying down next to you asleep, trying to look uninterested in Astarion, all whilst glancing up to make brief eye contact with him before averting your eyes from him. 

This goes on for a few nights, with him gradually approaching you, inch by inch, till he finally caves and sits next to you feeding off your free arm nearly every night from then on. 

Shortly after he’s sipped your blood, he gets a rapid burst of energy, pupils expanding to that of cat slits, before quickly bolting upright and watching him leave to go burn off his energy in the forest.

Some nights, in the privacy of his tent, he’d rest his head upon your lap, soon wrapping the weight of his body upon you, if you attempted to shift him off he would groan muttering under his breath “No, don’t leave you’re warm”, leaving you stuck to the ground for the rest of the night. Sometimes, you swear you’d hear him making a strange vampiric purring when he was in a trance.

After a while, he starts to bring you gifts in exchange for the blood you’ve offered him, mainly drained animals he’s hunted, such as the boar, stating how you can reuse the parts as food supplies.

When chatting with others, he attempts to interrupt any conversations to get your attention, by silently stepping in between the two of you and staring at the other person, subtly hooking his arm around you, all whilst maintaining eye contact with them until they either stop or leave.

One night, however, whilst watching you sleep, you notice his eyes slowly blink at you, staring at you softly whilst you rest. However, upon questioning if he was worried about you, he’d deny stating “I was just making sure that you were fine, especially after that fight at the creche, who knows what they could have done to you” before shifting his gaze away from you, trying to avoid repeating the reaction.

Later into the night, you tell him how much he reminds you of your pet snow leopard, stating how the two of you are quite similar. “Oh, is it because of my sharp fangs? Or my keen senes?, either way, I can see how flattered you are-”. You quickly cut him off abruptly, stating “No, it’s because you purr like a cat, it’s cute”. Flustered by the statement, he attempts to rebuttal “I- I don’t do such a thing, don’t compare me to some fur ball”. Swiftly turning his head away from you with a light blush forming on the tips of his ears.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x durge #astarion x dark urge #bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion headcanons

[thelov3lybookworm]

Presents (part two)

Part 1

Summary: Y/n has found her mate, and she will not tolerate any untoward behaviour towards him. Especially from her family.

And she will show them exactly what will happen if her mate does not get the respect he deserves from them.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: *dreamy sigh*

enjoy! ❣️

•○🌑○•

It was one of the family dinner nights, so that meant everyone was going to be present in the river house.

It also meant Y/n was on edge.

She was no child who didn't understand when someone disliked a person, and she was also very good at reading people, so that meant she understood very perfectly that her family was not very fond of her mate.

For whatever reasons she could not understand.

It was also the first time she would be meeting her family after almost two months of the mating frenzy having Lucien and Y/n locked away in the cabin Y/n owned in the in the Illyrian steppes.

He had her busy for two. Fucking. Months.

Y/n was not complaining.

Not when she found herself being wrapped up in his warm body afterwards, soothing all the pleasant aches in her body. And simply just watching him lie next to her, knowing he was hers and completely hers, watching peace settle into the harsh lines of his cruel face...

Yeah, she definitely was not complaining.

The voice she had come to love since the moment she met him called out her name, and she rushed downstairs to meet him in the foyer.

There he stood, facing the doorway and fixing the cuffs of his dark blue shirt which clung to him in the most delicious ways possible, the stark wite pants she had picked out for him accentuating his thighs and ass. His fiery hair hung around his shoulders, a small bun on the back of his head, the thin braids Y/n had insisted on making hanging between the loose strands... he looked mouth watering, to say the least.

He turned to her as soon as she stepped closer to him, and smiled.

Every thought flew out of Y/n's head as she watched his forearms flex while he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, the chunky bracelet Y/n had asked him to wear sitting snugly on his wrist, shining in the dim lighting.

"Y/n?"

Y/n blinked, her eyes moving slowly to meet his. "Hmm?"

A small grin spread on his face, and he leaned forward to tap her nose. "I asked if you were ready."

"Oh? Oh yeah, I am ready."

His grin widened, ad he leaned forward to place a soft kiss to her lips. "Then we better get going before we decide it's not worth socialising."

"What makes you think I am not already thinking about that?"

Lucien threw his head back as laughter poured out of his pretty lips, and Y/n held herself back from acting on the urge to taste his laughter.

He had been laughing a lot these days, and a warmth spread through Y/n everytime she heard the beautiful sound.

As soon as Y/n went to retrieve her shoes, Lucien grabbed them, then crouched in front of her.

"Let me." He gently grasped one of her ankles in his hands, slipping on her heels.

"Lucien, you don't need to do that-" She whispered, pink tinting her cheeks.

"But I want to."

Once he was done, he stood, dusting of his pants, He extended his elbow, inclining his head towards the door, his eyes shining. Y/n grabbed onto him as the two of them winnowed from the snowy mountains to the pathway leading to the river house.

"After you, my lady." He opened the door for her, waiting until she had entered the warm space before following.

Feyre and Nyx came into view as soon as Y/n and Lucien had hung their coats on the rack.

"Y/n! It's been so long! I hope you had a fun time." Feyre wiggled her brows, and Y/n rolled her eyes, picking up a giggling Nyx and walking into the sitting room where everyone was sat.

Cassian stood, a wide grin on his face, as he made his way towards Y/n.

"Where have you been? Rhysand wouldn't tell us other than you being on a mission." Cassian glared accusingly at Y/n's brother, but then he froze. His eyes widened, then flew to Lucien, who stood just behind Y/n.

His mouth opened a couple of times, eyes moving rapidly between Y/n and Lucien, before he gagged a little.

"I hope you don't start fucking on every surface in this house. It is not appropriate."

Y/n raised her brows. "You would know a lot about appropriate behaviour, right?"

Cassian grinned, pulling her in for a hug, and Y/n could feel Lucien suppressing the urge to growl in possessiveness. "Congratulations, you two."

Then, to Y/n's surprise, after Cassian let go of her, he pulled Lucien in for an embrace too. By the look on Lucien's face, he hadn't expected it either, though he appreciated it.

That was when Y/n noticed the stillness in the air in the room, and she glanced around to find Mor, Amren and Azriel in various states of shock, with Feyre smiling at Cassian and his antics in teasing Lucien, Rhys staring into the fire place, his hand wrapped around his glass of wine.

•○●⛦●○•

"You seem a little shocked." Y/n mumbled, accepting the glass Feyre passed to her after everyone had settled down on the dining table. The spread of food on the table surprisingly only consisting of all of Y/n's favourites.

"No one told us about you- and him." Mor returned, colour climbing up her cheeks in embarrassment.

Y/n rose a questioning brow at Rhysand, who splayed his palms in the air. "I thought you might want to tell them yourself. I didn't realise you would be away for almost two months."

The last part was mumbled, and it brought out a blush on Y/n's face thinking about exactly what happened in that time.

"So... you are mates?" Mor questioned, and Y/n could tell she was uncomfortable.

Y/n grinned proudly, nudging a smiling Lucien's shoulder with hers. "Yeah. We are."

"Congratulations." Mor mumbled, her eyes trained on her food.

"Pity." Amren said, emotionless.

The whole room fell silent, the air becoming heavy and strained.

Y/n's blood boiled, her fingers tightening on her fork as she stilled. Lucien had stiffened too, though he did not look up from his food. Y/n glanced at him, finding him chewing tightly as he blew out a breath.

And then Y/n let her eyes flit to Amren, who didn't bother to even pretend like she had said something wrong. She took a deep drink from her goblet, her eyes never leaving the contents of her goblet or food.

Y/n set down her fork, leaning back in her seat. She stared at Amren, taking in all the features the petite female had as she imagine how fun it would be to gouge out her eyes with her bare hands, how fun it would be to peel the skin off the ancient being's bones.

Rhys whispered her name, trying to get her attention. Y/n could see in her peripherals that Lucien was straightening too, his eyes now trained on Y/n. His hand came to rest on her thigh.

"Y/n." He mumbled, and Y/n could feel him opening up a window in his mental shields to get her to talk to him.

Y/n was also aware of how Azriel and Cassian went stiff, their shoulders bunching up as if ready to spring up any moment to restrain anyone who might jump up to attack.

"What did you say, Amren?" Y/n's voice was deceptively calm and soft, as if she wasn't planning on torturing the living daylights out of Amren, her ancient powers be damned.

"Y/n." Rhysand spoke more insistently, his panic beginning to come off of him in waves.

Amren met Y/n's eyes then, her eyebrows rising. "I said pity. It would have been better to be without a mate than have a coward and backstabber for one. Amarantha should have pulled out his heart instead of his eye."

She said it so nonchalantly, as if talking about the weather and not a literal being. As if she knew she was right. As if what she was saying couldn't have hurt anyone.

Y/n could not stop her power from escaping the leash she kept on them.

She did not even try to control them, anyway.

Her mind opened up, the power she contained in herself reaching out to caress the massive fortress Amren had around her mind.

Amren jerked, her eyes widening just a fraction when Y/n brought down a battering ram on the walls.

It took a lot of effort to reach Amren's brain, but Y/n didn't mind, not as panic flared in Amren's ancient gray eyes when Y/n didn't stop, the walls around her mind crumbling until there was nothing but dust left, even as Y/n was left panting from the amount of force it took to do that.

Y/n purred in satisfaction in Amren's brain, stalking around her consciousness for a moment before Y/n sunk her claws into her.

What the hell are you doing, girl? Stop!

Amren's panicked voice filled Y/n's head as her surroundings faded, and she focused solely on controlling this powerful being.

Apologise to him, Amren, and maybe I will consider letting you go without much harm.

No! Amren spat, though her fear rose like a tide.

Y/n smiled, a fire lighting in her veins.

Then say goodbye to you sanity, Amren.

Y/n reached into Amren's mind, dragging up the memories that were buried the deepest, and without looking at them herself, she projected it directly into Amren's brain, making her believe she was reliving the horrors.

Amren began screaming, clutching her head as she stood, the chair screeching loudly before it fell with a crash, and everyone around the table stood, not knowing what to do.

Please stop! Stop! I will beg for his forgiveness. Please, just stop!

Y/n let the memory go, though her talons stayed embedded in Amren's mind.

Amren panted, her eyes flitting up to meet Lucien's, who stared back, wide eyed.

"Sorry." She gritted out, clutching the table with her hands.

Y/n clucked her tongue mentally.

Sorry for what, Amren? I know you can do better. Come on, don't be a brat.

Y/n spoke softly, caressing Amren's mind with a soft touch, as if talking to a kid.

"I am sorry, Lucien." Amren glared at Y/n when she retracted her claws just the tiniest bit. "Please forgive me. I should not have said that."

Satisfied, Y/n pulled away her talons, meeting the wide eyes of Mor and Azriel, letting a bit of her powers show in her gaze before settling back into her chair as if nothing happened and picking up her fork.

Lucien leaned in after he had sat back down, his breath curling around Y/n's ear as he whispered, his mouth close to her. "That's my lady."

A blush spread across her face, and she met his eyes for a moment as he leaned back, turning to his food.

"You know, this chicken is really good." Y/n mumbled-if only to pretend like she was not holding herself back from jumping her mate's bones- genuinely impressed as everyone began settling down. Except for Amren, who stormed out of the room, but not before Y/n spied a hint of fear in her eyes.

Y/n sighed. She would have to apologize to Amren later when everyone had gone to sleep.

Y/n didn't hate Amren, at least not yet. But if Y/n had not done what she did, everyone would have continued walking all over her mate. It was a necessarry evil, and Y/n was all too happy to do it if it meant everyone treated her mate with even a fraction of what he deserved.

Not that she was planning to stay long enough for them to get a hold of themselves.

It was a few moments before the tension in the room began lessening, and Y/n continued eating.

It took even longer for everyone to start talking again.

And when they did, Y/n felt Lucien opening his mind once again, and this time she slipped in.

Yes?

She could feel his pride, though his face was expressionless as he chewed and listened to the debate Rhys and Cassian were engaging in.

You want to go home?

Y/n grinned, knowing her answer but still deciding to tease him a little. Will there be dessert?

If you want there to be. A small smirk made its way onto his face.

Hmm. I guess we could go...

He shook his head slightly, shifting in his chair.

That was when Y/n realised that he was masking his scent, because what she saw under the table... everyone would have been aware of his little situation by now.

Y/n's mouth dried, and she swallowed. "Um... We both are a little tired, so we will be taking our leave now."

Cassian's brows rose. "One would assume you are going home to get tired."

Lucien laughed softly, his eyes crinkling as Y/n rolled her eyes.

"Bye, Nyxie." Y/n waved at the little boy, who babbled at her.

Y/n stood, grinning when Lucien glanced at her helplessly.

I can't stand like this!

She laughed, grabbing his hand and winnowing away, the last sight she saw being a giggling Cassian and Rhys, shaking his head with a smile.

The moment Y/n and Lucien materialized in the foyer of the hidden away mountain home, his lips were on hers, his hands gripping onto any part of her he could reach.

Y/n kissed him back without any hesitation, laughing a little at his desperation. He nipped at her lower lip in retribution, and Y/n pulled away, grinning up at him, though it took a great effort to do that.

He wrapped his arms around her, resting his forehead on hers. Y/n's arms hung loosely around his shoulders, playing with his hair.

It took a moment for the both of them to catch their breath, but when they did, Lucien stole the breath away from Y/n again when he opened his eyes.

Swimming in his eyes was so much love... Y/n could have never fathomed someone ever looking at her with such emotion.

He smiled softly. "Thank you-"

"Don't." Y/n mumbled, caressing his jaw. "Don't thank me for that. For anything."

His eyes shone, and Y/n knew the silver lining his eyes was not because of his sadness.

He was happy, and he practically glowed with it.

"I love you. So much. I can't even imagine how I ever lived without you before."

Y/n laughed, tears springing to her own eyes. "Stop, you are going to make me cry."

"I will wipe the tears for you then, but I will never stop telling you how much I love you."

Y/n brushed her nose against his before she buried her face in his neck, gigging.

"I love you. And I would level the whole of Prythian if it meant no one would ever disrespect you ever again."

"I'm sure that won't happen again." He said dryly.

Her cheeks were hurting from how hard she was smiling, but Y/n did not care.

"So, where were we?"

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

Lucien taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @mirandasidefics @sidrapotter

#acotar #Lucien x reader #Acotar fanfic #mating bond #a court of thorns and roses #Lucien fluff #acotar fandom #acotar series #fluff #Lucien fic #Lucien fanfic #sarah j maas #acotar headcanon #Acotar writing #acotar fluff #acotar x reader #reader insert #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #pro lucien vanserra #rhysand sister #lucien

[inkdrinkerworld]

chubby reader being cold on the jet on the way back home and emily offers to borrow her a jacket but obvi it won’t fit but spencer is already switching seats so he can tuck her in next to him under his blanket so she doesn’t have time to feel bad or awkward about it and she has no idea what to do when their hands touch under the blanket

this chubby!reader and spencer are who I have in mind

Winter is rolling in with full force in New York and you curse yourself for not choosing a heavier sweater when you were packing your go bag.

Your fingers are numb as you sit on the jet, book useless in your lap as you shiver under the ac vent.

Spencer’s beside you, but he’s completely enthralled in his book and isn’t aware of your freezing form beside him.

He isn’t freezing because he’s got his velvety blanket tucked all around his lap and his cardigan looks like the supreme leader of cozy.

You envy the cocoon of warmth he’s in.

“Didn’t pack for the weather did you, baby?” Derek teases and you shake your head, cheeks puffed with annoyance at yourself.

“No, and the pilot doesn’t seem to care that we’ve just left snowy Manhattan.”

Spencer perks then, eyes lifting as he tunes into the conversation around him.

Emily starts rifling through her go bag, “Here I think,” she starts and that’s when Spencer acts.

“Switch seats with me.” Spencer’s standing to avoid any denial, letting you move to his seat as he takes yours.

You give him a small smile, your body still cold but not trembling now. The cold evaporates when he drops his blanket over you too, his nimble fingers tucking the edges into the seat.

You think your pulse is visible from the way Derek and Emily balk.

You’re not sure you’re breathing when Spencer shuffles down in his seat to lean his shoulder into you and whispers, “Get some rest. You didn’t sleep much while we were there.”

“Spence,” he looks up, glasses only slightly foggy from the ventilation- or his rapid breathing that he’s desperate to regulate. “Thanks.”

He smiles, a small one that grows a little bigger when you lay your cheek to his warm shoulder. You don’t even bother picking back up your book.

You miss Derek’s, “Atta boy,” as you fall asleep.

#spencer reid x chubby!reader #spencer reid x black!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #spencerreid #spencer reid

[andkisses]

♡ cold weather care | enha ♡

ot7!enha headcanon: cold weather activities with you <3

♡ ot7 x gn!reader | wc. 857 ♡ genres/tropes: fluff, he’s so down bad and tbh u are too ♡ mentions of/warnings: none ♡ a/n: little something for every member <3 jungwon’s and heeseung’s first and the rest below the cut ^^ inspired by the complete freezing and miserable weather im having  <33 minimally proofread lol

♡ masterlist ♡

✧･ﾟ: * jungwon - cuddles and naps

the thermometer is far too low to even think of going outside, even if the snow outside is enticing and beautiful. instead, jungwon brings all the pillows and blankets he can find out to the couch, where after moment of nearly being engulfed by said pillows and blankets, the two of you nestle down into a cacoon of warmth. you snuggle against jungwon’s chest, one of his arms wrapped around you and holding you close. the two of you mindless stroll through netflix, looking for something awful and cheesy to watch. you kiss the bottom of his jaw and relish the way he smiles, cheek crushing into his shoulder. he wouldn’t want anything else.

✧･ﾟ: * heeseung - first snow kiss

you both stay up late, peeking behind the blinds to look through the streets lights in hopes of catching the first few flakes. it isn’t until much past midnight, when you’re eyes are heavy and there’s no more games to play. one of you takes one last look outside, and the other starts throwing over coats and hats and scarfs and gloves. suddenly you’re outside, watching the fluffy white flakes fall down towards you. heeseung watches you, chest heavy with something good and romantic. he’s happy this is his life, happy you’re the one he gets to kiss delicately under a snowy night sky, lips soft and warm and smiley just for him.

✧･ﾟ: * jay - pillow forts

perhaps the both of you have taken this too seriously, but who’s to say when such an amazing pillow fort now graces the living room floor? sheets pitched like a tent with chairs from the dining table. you turned the floor into a menagerie of blankets, soft and fluffy while jay brought a carefully curated plate of snacks. you elect to catch up on the latest drama, the one that fell off because of work. as the snow pours down in white ribbons outside, you curl into jay’s side, savoring his warmth against your own. jay does the same, closing his eyes to place a kiss atop the crown of your head. how did he get so lucky?

✧･ﾟ: * jake - nighttime errands

you’re still chilly as you methodically look through the movies at your local library, trying to find something interesting and new. eventually, you grab something with a flashy cover. you check it out and prepare yourself before rushing out into the cold where jake waits. ever the gentleman, once he sees you on the way, he opens the passenger side door for you. when he asks what you picked, you tell him it’s a surprise. you laugh at his dramatic pout before leaning over the center console to press a kiss to his cool cheek. when you lean back, you can’t help but blush at his lovesick smile. you can’t contain your giggles, either, when he leans over, cupping your cheeks, and plants kisses rapid fire all over your face. you’re his favorite.

✧･ﾟ: * sunghoon - snowball fight

it begins outside, something innocent and wholesome as you and sunghoon step out to admire the snow. it coats everything in a thick blanket of white, and with one touch you realize it’s the perfect snow for make snowmen, or snow angels, or–you whip around in response to the cold hit to your back. sunghoon stands, hands in his pocket and gaze anywhere but you, acting like nothing happened. your shock quickly wears off as you ball up snow with your bare hands, hurtling it towards your unsuspecting boyfriend. it’s a short war that ends with both of you slipping and laughing at each other, noses red with cold. he’s never thought you looked more beautiful than right now.

✧･ﾟ: * sunoo - snow angels

always one for fun competition, and because he loves to see the determination on your face, sunoo bets he can create the best snow angel ever. it’s a few minutes of walking around the park by your apartment, bundled up but already feeling the bite at your nose. after, your snow angels so close their wings nearly touch, you and sunoo take time to judge. you fake gag when he calls you his snow angel. your laughter is very much real when sunoo tackles you backwards. he’s only half kidding when he says you’re a snow angel. with a laugh like that, there’s no way you aren’t heavensent.

✧･ﾟ: * niki - baking treats

they say that baking is an exact science, but you and niki have proven that might be a fallacy. the inexact amounts of sugar, salt, and vanilla you’ve added to these cookies would make a purist cry, but as you sit on the floor side by side, watching the cookies slowly rise in the oven, you have a feeling it will work. and when you taste the cookies after they’ve cooled, you share a peculiar look. they aren’t good like a bakery, but they’re still pretty tasty. as you start researching easy icing recipes, brows knit in concentration, the feeling in niki’s chest tells he’s never eaten anything better. and he wouldn’t want to share these kinds of adventures with anyone else.

#kdiarynet #kwritersworld #kflixnet #k-labels #enhypen fluff #enhypen headcanons #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #heeseung fluff #heeseung headcanons #jungwon fluff #jungwon headcanons #jake fluff #jake headcanons #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon headcanons #jay fluff #jay headcanons #sunoo fluff #sunoo headcanons #niki fluff #niki headcanons #fluff #headcanons #scenarios #imagines #all #enhypen

[okkotsuus]

breathe me in (bllk pt.1) !

features: yoichi i. nagi s. reo m. hyoma c. meguru b.   

content: fluff. suggestive. kissing head canons. making out. mentions of biting. established relationship. 1.3k words

pt.2

yoichi kisses you as if it is the first time, no matter how many times it has been. for him, it has never truly sunk in that he really has you wrapped around his finger.

yoichi had just gotten home from one of his championship games.

you couldn't help the joy surging through your chest as you ran to him, cupping his cheeks. his hands hovered just above your waist as your lips leaned forwards to chase his, his head tilting to bring you even closer.

a shallow whine was pulled from your chest as he finally grasped your waist, pressing you flush against him. feather-light circles were drawn as he snaked his hands under your shirt to feel the bare skin of your stomach.

his tongue dragged over your bottom lip, pulling it back between his teeth before separating from you with a pop.

your dazed eyes looked at him and you couldn’t help the rapid beat of your heart. his breath fanned over your face as his hand reached up to rest on your nape.

the look in his eyes was the exact same one he got when he played soccer.

“we’re just getting to the good part, aren't we, sunshine?”

nagi kisses you with a lazy fervor. his lips slot against your so slowly but the hurried movements of his hands and his breath shatters his laid-back illusion.

nagi laid between your legs, head resting on your stomach with your hands gently twisting his snowy tresses. he scooted up further to rest his chin just below your collarbone as his softened eyes met yours.

all it took was him placing his hands on either side of you as he hovered above you, pressuring a gentle peck to your lips. he came right back and slotted his open lips to yours, gently biting at your bottom lip.

you reached your arms up to wrap them loosely around his neck, spurring him on further. his hand ran up and down your side, unintentionally pushing that side of your shirt from your soft waist. he was propped up by his other elbow and the knee that rested between yours.

his pace was slow; with the drag of his tongue against yours, but you could feel the rapid fans of his breath across your face. you rest your hands on either side of his neck, cupping just below his jaw. you could feel the rapid beats of his pulse against your palms.

nagi pulled away, panting as his eyes looked down at you: gazed with something other than just sleep.

“this feeling… need more, more ‘f you, hun.”

reo kisses you with a sort-of smugness to it, but there’s an underlying hunger to prove himself to you. to prove that he’s not just some heir, but a man.

you had just placed a tin of muffins into the oven, your boyfriend leaning onto the counter across from you. you smiled at him, hopping to sit on the counter opposite from him and playing idly on your phone.

you felt a warmth on either side of your hips and looked down to see hands on them. you looked at reo, a brow quirked as you set your phone off to the side.

he didn’t say any words as he lurched further, trapping you against the counter. the heat that rose to your cheeks didn’t go unnoticed as he pressed kisses to your cheeks, trailing down your neck.

your hands tangled in his amethyst hair as he came back up to press a kiss to the corner of your lips, chuckling darkly as you whined at how close he was to what you had desired. he gave you a cocky smirk and a roll of his violet eyes as he leaned forward, finally capturing your lips against his.

his hands squeezed bruisingly against your hips as he pressed closer and closer into you, enveloping you into his being. you couldn’t think with the haze reo puts over your mind, all you knew was the drag of his lips against yours and the groans that you managed to drag out of his throat.

when he had finally let you go for air, you heard the singing of the oven. reo turned it off and returned to you, clearly no intention of stopping.

“don’t wan’ muffins, need yer pretty lips, darlin’. ”

chigiri kisses you with a slow salvation, contrasting beautifully to the speed he exhibits on the field, as if he must treat you with caution.

hyoma had you sat on his lap as you idly babble on about what you saw while he was gone, but he wasn’t really listening.

he heard you but the words went out the other year as he watched your lips while you talked. every now and then you would poke your pink tongue out to coat your plush lips in a glittering sheen of spit and he would lose all cognitive ability.

so when you did it again, he cupped your cheeks and pulled you to him, pressing his lips against yours. the startled gasp that you pulled in allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth as he dragged it against the roof.

your hands reached up to tangle in his hair as you reciprocated. the whimpers that he pulled from you with his painstakingly drawled pace made his lips curl upwards against you.

the soft nips on your lips had you like putty in his grasp and a rumbling chuckle from his throat had you going limp against him, hands now grasping onto his shirt to ground yourself. he showed mercy and pulled away, lips now in a sheen too.

as his eyes scanned you, you couldn’t help but avoid his piercing gaze, embarrassed at how easily you had folded for him. his hand wrapped around your jaw as he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, meeting your gaze.

“what were you sayin’, pretty?”

bachira kisses you with a yearning, scared that if he doesn’t it may turn out that you were never there; just another monster in him.

bachira was an eccentric, everyone knew this as a fact. he lived and breathed soccer. so when he came home from winning his game to you hugging him while in his spare jersey, he couldn’t help the fire that burned in his body.

he just stared for a while, eyes wide and hollow, pupils blown. the monster spoke, and told him to do it. so he surged forwards to slam his lips to yours, halting the words about to escape from between them.

his hands reached to pull you into him, holding you up by your thighs. his lips clashed against yours desperately, the drumming of his heartbeat and the sounds that escaped you was all he could hear.

his tongue slithered into your mouth as he dragged it against yours, breathing you in completely in all you were. seeing a pretty thing like you wearing his number and name drove him a special kind of crazy. the kind that had him holding you up in the entryway, door barely shut and his skin still sticky with sweat.

when he pulled away with desperate pants, lulling forwards to reconnect, before being stopped by your hands against his heated cheeks. he looked up to meet your gaze, eyes filled with a hunger, the hunger of a striker.

“can’t help it when i see you wearing my name and number, my sweet thing.”

okkotsuus 23

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #yoichi isagi #yoichi isagi x reader #isagi yoichi #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x reader #reo mikage #reo mikage x reader #hyoma chigiri x reader #hyoma chigiri #meguru bachira #meguru bachira x reader #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff

[snowyfrostshadows]

*Goes into the ninja house*

Sister; who has this point surpassed me in the game waiting till I'm in the stabby-floor-room and can't retrace my steps: Hey did you know Luigi's here? Like, two rooms before this one?

Me: He's WHAT?!? And you wait till NOW to say something?!?!?!

#snowy plays mario #she just sat there; and watched me go through the ninja trick house #only speaking up either a) offer advice to find something or avoid getting hurt #or b) purposely saying something to get me hurt #awful #can't believe i'll have to go through trick house again #i miss the rapids

[mechaknight-98]

Snow-Day FT: Song Hayoung

Authors note: A cute little fluff for one of my favorite Fromis_9 girls

"Babe, wake up! It's snowing outside," Hayoung, your girlfriend, exclaims with excitement. Slowly, you pry open your eyes to find her beaming face hovering above you, her big brown eyes filled with elation. With a gentle push, you coax her off you, the warmth of her presence lingering as you rise from bed. As you stand, your gaze falls upon Hayoung, dressed in a cozy gray sweater, a sleek black leather jacket, and her beloved beret perched atop her head, perfectly complementing her cute black skirt. With a contented sigh, you gather her into a hug, reveling in the affectionate exchange until her restless energy prompts her to squirm with excitement.

"Come on, get a shower and get dressed so we can enjoy the snow," Hayoung urges eagerly, her words tumbling out in rapid succession. Smiling at her infectious enthusiasm, you acquiesce, moving to fulfill her request.

You proceed with your morning routine, enjoying a leisurely shower, selecting warm clothing, and indulging in a light breakfast before joining Hayoung outside. However, your peaceful transition to the snowy outdoors is abruptly interrupted as a snowball smacks into you just three steps beyond the threshold. Letting out a resigned sigh, you brush the frozen remnants off your vibrant red scarf, your beanie snugly affixed to your head.

Turning towards Hayoung, you playfully quip, "Oh, is that how it's going to be?" With a mischievous grin, you begin crafting a snowball of your own, gloved hands expertly molding the icy ammunition. As you ready your retaliatory strike, Hayoung forms another snowball, poised for action. With a swift toss, you launch your snowball towards her, causing her to flinch and drop hers in surprise. She returns your gaze with an excited yet competitive glint in her eye, fully embracing the challenge.

What follows is a spirited snowball skirmish, initially lighthearted but swiftly escalating in intensity as both you and Hayoung immerse yourselves in the fray. Each throw becomes more strategic, each dodge more calculated, fueled by the competitive fire that burns within both of you. However, as the battle rages on, the realization dawns that there are other obligations awaiting you both beyond this playful snowbound duel.

A mutual understanding ensues, and the intensity gradually ebbs, leading to a truce—a stalemate born not of surrender, but of mutual respect and the recognition of other responsibilities that beckon. As you both reluctantly set aside your snowy rivalry, the memory of this spirited encounter lingers, a testament to the boundless joy and camaraderie shared between you and Hayoung amidst the winter wonderland. your lovely girlfriend latches onto you as the two of you head for her Label.

Before stepping inside, you pause and lean in to whisper to Hayoung, "Gosh, I can't wait until you're free from Pledis so you can do what you want."

Her reaction is immediate, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face.

"I know this hasn't been ideal, but they've been good to me. So I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk badly about them," Hayoung responds, her tone firm.

You let out a resigned sigh, acknowledging her perspective.

"It never fails to amaze me how you can put up with them," you remark to her with a mix of admiration and bewilderment.

"Well, without Pledis, I wouldn't have met my favorite English tutor and boyfriend," Hayoung retorts, her gaze fixed on you. Your smile is genuine as you meet her eyes.

"Okay, fair point," you concede, recognizing the positive outcomes amidst the challenges.

As Hayoung clings to your arm tightly, you both ascend to the office. After dropping her off at her practice room, you set off to fetch food for the two of you. While outside, you encounter Le Sserafim. Sakura, noticing you as she usually does due to your resemblance to her boyfriend Daigo, greets you warmly.

"Hey guys," you greet them politely, receiving smiles from the Le Sserafim members. Sakura is the only one who seems to register your presence, her attention momentarily diverted from her companions.

"How are you, Danzabourou-san?" Sakura inquires.

"I'm good. And how about you? Are you and Daihirou still doing well?" you ask. Sakura nods with a smile.

"He's currently waiting for me at the hotel. He's here for a couple more days before he goes back to the States," Sakura explains.

"That's nice of him to come out for your birthday," you remark warmly. Sakura nods emphatically before bidding farewell as the rest of the Le Sserafim girls depart.

After grabbing food from a nearby noodle shop, you return to the practice area and distribute the meals. Seoyeon and Chaeyoung express their gratitude with cheerful thanks, to which you respond with a silent thumbs up before seeking out a quiet spot to enjoy your meal. You find a secluded spot with a panoramic view of the cityscape, the snowflakes descending gracefully against the urban backdrop. As you savor your meal, the rhythmic tapping of footsteps interrupts the tranquil ambiance.

"Yo, Hayoung, you did?" you inquire casually without turning around, captivated by the serene scene unfolding before you.

"Yeah, we just needed to work on a couple of dance practices and film some TikToks," Hayoung responds, her voice carrying a hint of exhaustion. Intrigued, you swivel around to face her, a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Ah, so that means we'll finally be able to settle our unfinished snowball battle," you declare with a wicked grin. However, your playful anticipation is cut short by a sudden sneeze from Hayoung, causing your expression to shift instantly into concern. Your protective instincts kick in as you enter "overprotective significant other mode," a role you and Hayoung seamlessly slip in and out of. You watch as the tip of her nose becomes red, your decision is swift and unwavering.

"Nope, young lady, we're going back home," you assert firmly, your tone brooking no argument.

"No, I'm fine," Hayoung protests weakly, but you remain resolute, knowing the consequences of her falling ill.

"I don't want you getting sick on my watch. Gyuri and Saerom would never let me hear the end of it. So, we're going home to do that thing you like," you insist, a plan already forming in your mind.

Hayoung's eyes light up with anticipation as she catches on to your hint. "Bubble bath?" she ventures excitedly, seeking confirmation. With a nod from you, the decision is made, and together you head home.

Before entering, however, you veer off to the side, a mischievous spark igniting within you. Craftily, you gather some snow, forming it into a compact snowball. As Hayoung comes looking for you, unsuspecting, you launch an icy surprise at her with a playful grin. Her laughter fills the air as the two of you engage in another impromptu snowball skirmish.

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #male reader #fromis9 hayoung #song hayoung #hayoung #fromis 9 fluff #hayoung fluff

[venusxstars]

𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 ⸻ nsfw.

otoya eita × fem!reader

keynotes ⸻ teasing, lap dance, breast fondling, grinding. short one-shot. wherein you give otoya a lap dance as a reward for his hard-work.

venus' note ⸻ thought of this idea when a lap dance tutorial appeared in my tiktok fyp. also, this man is so hot ( except for his green highlight ). also, i apologize for the late post; i've been busy.

"I'M HOME." Eita calls out as he enters through your shared home and closes the door right behind him. Usually, he'd see you cooking something strange up in kitchen or you'd be watching television in the living room. To his surprise, you weren't there to greet him at all.

He furrows his brows in confusion before wordlessly walking towards your shared room. As he opens the bedroom door, he freezes in place, accidentally dropping his heavy gym bag onto the floor in surprise at the sight.

You were there, sitting so prettily at the center of the bed with your bare feet pressed flat on the floor. Your body clad in dark rosy red lace that barely covered your skin—breasts peeking out around the corners of the fabric—and your hair set down loosely. You regarded him coolly with your lips stretched upwards the slightest bit while your sharp eyes sliced knowingly through his hungry gaze.

He swallowed and breathed out shakily, staring at you with slightly wide eyes. His lips part and he immediately takes a step towards you.

"Fuck, come here, princess—" He mutters in a daze before bumping into a chair that he hadn't even noticed was standing at the center of the bedroom. His cheeks flush a little when you laugh.

You stand up, walking over to him as his eyes are pinned on you. You place your hand flat on his chest and push him to sit down onto the chair. His eyes widens even more and he yelps quietly at your sudden actions.

"What are you..." The words die down in his throat as you begin circling around him wordlessly, your hand tracing against his clothed chest then standing behind him.

You dip your head down, brushing your lips gently against his ear and you see him shudder. He balls his fist in his lap and crosses his arms over his chest in anticipation. "Relax, darling. Sit down and just enjoy the show, would you?"

He nods wordlessly, swallowing.

You walk over slowly in front of him and trail your hands towards the back rest of the chair, leaning your face closer towards his. He tilts his head forward as if expecting a kiss but you move away immediately and turn your back against him, arching your spine as your lightly press your ass against his hips—not too close, just enough to leave him wanting more.

You see his legs spreading more and his large calloused hands grasping your sides. You roll your hips slowly and sensually, but never putting enough pressure between his legs. Just a light sort of pressure, slowly feeling his cock hardening and pressing against the fat of your ass. You hear him suck in a breath and mutter out a quiet, raspy "Fuck".

You sit on him completely with your back agains his chest, arching your spine outwards a little. You lean your head back against his shoulder, running your right hand against the side of his cheek and upwards, tugging on his soft snowy hair. You catch your bottom lip underneath the top row of your teeth, purposely breathing louder and heavier against his ear, and easing out the most silent moan.

His breathing grows rapid as it almost looses its rhythm. You feel it against your back as his pecs push themselves against your shoulder blades back and forth as he lets air in and out through his parted pink lips. His hands snake onto the sides yours waist, fingers digging down against the soft flesh as if trying not to run desperately past the line of losing his self-control.

"Are you watching me, darling?" You murmur breathily, watching yourself do a body roll. Your hips thrust forward slowly and smoothly like a passing wave across the sea, before your ass presses back against his hardened cock underneath his sweatpants. You feel his burning stare over your shoulder as he looks down at your hips. His long and slender fingers dig against your flesh more, trimmed nails biting the skin.

"Oh, I'm watching, baby." He drawls out deeply with a rasp as he keeps his emerald eyes pinned on your swaying and rolling hips.

You spread your legs, hooking it over his knees. You pull his hands away from your waist, guiding it throughout the expanse of your body; the soft skin of your thighs and inching towards its inner areas to touch the lacy red fabric before leading it towards your belly, slowly trailing upwards to your rib cage. His knuckles touch the underside of your breasts and you shudder, breathing against his ear.

Suddenly, he brings his hands up to cup your breasts over your lingerie before squeezing your mounds.

Your movements stutter and you press your ass back down a bit harder on his lap when you feel a wave of heat engulfing your belly and your core. You grind your teeth when he inserts his hands under your lacy bralette, bringing the pads of his index fingers over your puffy nipples.

The puffy buds catch under the pads of his fingers as he rubs downwards. You jolt, pressing your legs together and throwing your head back against his shoulder.

"Go on," He pulls his hands away completely from you, denying you of more pleasure like the same thing you have been doing. You furrow your brows in frustration as his deep voice hum against your ear teasingly.

"Move your body, darling."

#venusxstars! #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock #female reader #blue lock oneshots #blue lock thirst #blue lock x female reader #otoya eita x reader #otoya eita #otoya x reader #otoya thirst #otoya x y/n #otoya x you #otoya eita x y/n #otoya eita x you

[zae5]

The night is dark yet full of warmth

A/N: For @hotd-bigbang

Prompt: December 11th - Blizzard | Blankets | Berries

Helaena's pov

Summary: The children cuddle up on a windy night to a warm tale of the North.

Word count: 500

Dividers by @saradika

“Muña tell us the story of the snowy castle up north”

Their twins pulled at her skirts before she gathered them up in her arms walking towards the bed as she saw Aegon cradling Maelor. The maids helped in tucking them all in before leaving to light some of the snuffed out candles nearby. They cuddled together before he joined them at the foot of their bed with their son cooing in his arms. It was a cold night with the shutters pulled tight and the glow of the hearth bathing their chambers in its warmth. She'd recited the tale of the Good Queen countless times yet as they gazed up at her with their inquisitive eyes, pleading silently, she could hardly resist the words that spilled from her lips. Her husband chuckled as he listened enraptured. He'd told her he loved her voice one night, when it was too cold to venture out. They'd been wrapped in their blankets, huddled together as he gazed at her. “Perhaps we should do this more often” he'd said

“Lie together? Mother would certainly agree”

He had chuckled then before pulling her closer. “You have a nice voice Hel. I like hearing you talk”

She wove tales of an icy blizzard surrounding the mighty Silverwing as she descended upon Winterfell aweing commoner and lord alike and how the witty queen had thawed the stoic lord of the manor with her charm.

“What about the berries?” Jaehaera chirped excitedly. She laughed in response as her little girl pouted impatiently.

“Yes, how can you forget the berries, Helaena. That is quite inconsiderate of you is it not byka jorrāelagon” Aegon responded earning him a rapid nod from her little head. (Little love)

She shook her head before pulling them both closer as she continued.

“The Good Queen had managed to charm Lord Stark with her wit and beauty, however it was a handful of berries that endeared him to her at last. Red as the roses of the King’s gardens, those little treats were secretly favored by the grumpy lord who was still wary of dragons. Imagine his astonishment when he found a mighty beast like Silverwing enjoyed them just as well. Upon learning of his fondness the queen had offered them to her in front of him, juggling them in her palms before feeding them to her with each catch as he watched in awe. A mummer’s trick that had excited all alike finally proved to be a valuable collection in her arsenal”

The twins clapped as she finished her tale grinning with delight.

“Remember my loves, to always be kind and to listen carefully above all. You never know when a trick up your sleeve can come in handy” she finished before winking at Aegon who looked away in embarrassment.

The wind around them howled outside agreeably, rattling the window panes as they relished in the warmth of the little anecdote of ice and fire.

Taglist: @witheredoffherwitch @arcielee @barbieaemond @chompchompluke @watercolorskyy @paprikaquinn

#house of the dragon #hotd winter prompts 23 #helaena fics #helaena imagine #helaegon #helaena x aegon ii #zae's fics #hotd fic #aegon ii x helaena #hotd imagine

[valentinedaughtler]

Tainted Opal (Part 6)

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

T/Ws: violence, romantic feelings, blood, mild spice scenes sometimes, fem!reader and she/her pronouns, sexual abuse/trauma (not explicit)

Synopsis: Your boat has been docked in Fjerda and you forgot your coat…. (But Kaz has a coat…👀)

REQUESTS: OPEN✅

____________________________________________

6 - Kaz Brekker Always Had a Reason

The ship was docked on the west coast of Fjerda, frozen plains stretches over the horizon into a snowy oblivion. The ocean was deeply frigid, an innocent plunge would send you to a numbing death.

Everyone, except prepared Matthias, was painfully underdressed. Jesper reminded us all frequently through whiney griping. We teased him about it, saying his fancy hats would not even be able to warm him up. My social circle included all the Crows, but I lingered longer around Inej and Nina. We all seemed to feel a feminine connection to one another; an easy group to complain about the boys' nonsense to.

As Nina and I shivered, we huddled near one another, the long trek around the Fold just beginning. Matthias held Nina close, insuring that she would be warm, despite her heartrender abilities.

Eventually, Nina moved between the cold Crows, circulating their blood into a more rapid speed to keep their temperatures up. Thus, I was left with the massive Fjerdan man. I'd seduced many men, but only a few looked like they could snap me in half like a twig for a fire like he did.

"Do you miss Fjerda?" I asked with an inquisitive tilt of the head. Matthias's face contorted slightly, his jaw shifting and eyebrows stitching together. He stayed silent for a moment before sighing,

"I do miss my people in some ways, but sometimes you find a person who changes your values...," he replied with a thick accent. It was sharp and pronounced, I had a feeling if he yelled at you it would feel like a brick to the face. I nodded as he watched Nina. "Do you miss your life before Ketterdam swallowed it up?"

"No-...," I tried to articulate how I felt about my past, but I guess I wasn't too sure. "I miss the specifics, the small details. Though, when I think about the big picture, I don't miss any of it." I let out a shivered breath before speaking again, "I don't want to think back fondly on what my life had been, trying to write an edited version with only the good plot points. It's easier to not think about it at all, no story is better than a bad one, don't you think?" I craned my neck to look at Matthias's eyes, they looked harsh and painful, but maybe they were pained instead.

"I think you should just keep writing the story," he acknowledged my thought with a nod. "Maybe find new characters to add to it rather than making it a one-man narration." I laughed softly, an unexpected response from him.

"Nina seems to be a good influence on you," smirking at him with a knowing glint in my eye. He really loves her, I thought as I made my way to the heartrender herself. "Nina!" I waddled my way across the tundra to her and Kaz. She seemed a bit exasperated as the dark haired boy begrudgingly allowed her to use her small science on him.

"Y/n, can you tell him that I will not be stopping his heartbeat?" She huffed as Kaz squirmed away from her slightly.

"That's enough," he said, but I heard his teeth chatter a bit through that gravely voice. I laughed, asking Nina to warm me up instead. She excitedly obliged, leaving Kaz to sulk in peace.

She began to chuckle to herself as she contorted her soft fingers to work her 'majik'.

"What is it?" I inquired with growing curiosity. She turned to me with a suggestive smile and a wink.

"Kaz was watching you, earlier, when you were taking to Matthias." Her grin widened, showing her pearly, white teeth. My cheeks burned when the meaning behind her words clicked in my brain. She continued, "I may have called him out on such. He got real defense," she dragged out her words with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"He's always defensive. He's basically a human defense system; a wall." I said, attempting to use logic. He barely knew me, unless we had met somewhere before, Kaz wouldn't trust me this early on, I knew that much.

"Well, yes, but you did pay upfront, he doesn't really need you alive, so..." Nina batted her eyelashes at me, mimicking a lovestruck girl. I flushed as I looked back at Kaz, limping a few feet behind us, when he met my gaze I spun back around, tensing up. Nina leaned close to my ear, "you're blushing... and I can tell your heartbeat has fluctuated frequently when he is near you-"

"Okayy, thank you, my darling, Nina, but I should really be going-,"

"You should be discussing plans with me since we are getting closer to the main path," rasped Kaz from behind me. I stifled a startled scream. Geez, what's with me? I'm never actually flustered around people and I've... been in intimate situations during heists many a time. Nina flashed me a smile and a wink before leaving Kaz and I alone. I sighed with relief as I know her torment would be at bay, for now.

"When we get to the trail's end, we should find shelter for the night, there are abandoned cabins all over Fjerda. That's what my dad told me, atleast," my voice was still a bit shakey as I tried to slow my heart rate down. Kaz nodded.

"It's the safest gamble to set up camp at the first cabin we see that doesn't have occupants in it," his tone was somehow more formal than it generally was, his body seemed tense. Had he heard what Nina had said? I looked at the cheery woman far up ahead, her bubbly laugh echoing across the frozen wasteland we trekked.

I walked with Kaz in silence, maintaining a couple feet of distance between us, I wasn't sure why, but I felt that if I touched him that he might snap. Whether that indicated him imploding or killing me, I wasn't sure. But I respected his need for space. I felt like I yearned to be alone often, since intimate touch was an important part of my job. It often wasn't by people I wanted to touch me too. Maybe it bothered me because I was so young, but no one in Ketterdam stayed young. Instead of a slow climb to adulthood, it was a drowning process. Before, you were something, but after you plunged up for air, you weren't much anymore.

A gust of wind blew hair into my face and sent a shiver throughout my body, like hitting a metal drum and watching it vibrate. Kaz seemed to suppress the chill he felt, huffing slightly as the wind blew towards us.

"Why didn't you bring a jacket?" Kaz grumbled, his glare colder than the snow melting in my boots. "Your chattering teeth is starting to irritate me."

"I originally thought we'd be headed through Shu Han," I said through long breaths. I suddenly felt a thick jacket be placed.., no, more so dropped onto my shoulders. I turned to the Crow beside me, who refused to meet my gaze. With a breathy laugh, I slipped my arms into the jacket. It was soft and warm, but oversized on me. I dug my chilly hands into the lined pockets. "Thank you."

Kaz stayed silent, but I could tell he was cold in only his shirt and vest. "We need you in good health. The Crows, especially Matthias, need your tailoring skills to disguise us. I assume your business partner also knows of me, so that would be a problem." He explained, as if justifying his decision to himself.

We eventually reached a fork in the road, both paths leading to long, winding expanses of lifeless tundra. I indicated the correct road, but as we made our way, we saw a small shack.

The skeleton of the building was stacked logs and eroded wood was sparsticslly laying in chunks near the house. The inside had creaky wooden floors, a small kitchen area and bed rested on opposing sides. Fur hanging from the walls, for decor and warmth probably, a small fire place, and a couch were the only other things of note in the barren room.

"Oh, it reminds me of how Matthias and I had spent our first night together," Nina purred with a silly smile.

"Wylan and I are too fancy to sleep on the floor," Jesper said while sprawling out on the make-shift mattress. No one objected, but Matthias and Nina called the couch. Us single three left mutually decided we were on our own for sleeping areas.

"There's enough fur for the rest of us to just sleep on the floor separately," Inej pointed out, "but I'm okay sharing with Y/n if there is a shortage of blankets." She smiled at me and squeezed my hand. I returned her sentiment by promising to braid her hair later.

Jesper's eyes wandered around the room in observation, eventually landing on jacket-less Kaz and my body that was swallowed by said-jacket. His lips crooked into a sly grin.

"Nice jacket, Y/n," Jesper said and his eyes landed on the coat's owner, who froze.

"I'm going to collect firewood," Kaz grumbled and made his way outside the cabin quite quickly.

"I'll be right with ya', boss!" Jesper shot up from the bed and jogged after Kaz, his giggling and teasing still audible.

"Should we leave them alone in the woods?" Nina asked, "Kaz may kill the poor boy." Everyone laughed a bit, knowing looks shared between everyone besides me. I've been too casual, I've grown too close to them. Maybe... I should stay away from Kaz a bit since we aren't trapped on a boat together any longer.

✵ ♣ ✵

"He gave you his jacket?" Inej repeated the words I just spewed out nervously. I nodded in response as she turned to look at me with shock.

We sat together on the roof, which was very difficult for for me to get up to after Inej did so with grace. Stealth was not my thing. She sat in front of my crossed legs, leaning on me slightly, as I braided her hair ornately. The repetitive motions soothed me as I felt the pressure of the coming heist. "The last couple nights on the boat we've both gotten nightmares from too much time on the sea," I explained. "We've been talking from late to early, until the sunrises, or just sitting in silence."

Inej giggled a bit, I felt her shake against me as the laugh vibrated through her. "He doesn't grow fond of people quickly, I can't be sure, but I want you to stay with us after the heist," Inej said softly.

I hummed in response, "we'll see. Even if we part ways, I'll stay in touch with you and Nina." I couldn't see her face, but I could tell Inej was smiling.

We both looked down to see a babbling Jesper walking next to an exhausted looking Kaz. Inej turned to me as I had just finished braiding her long hair. Her lips were crooked into a michevious grin.

"Let's scare them," she whispered softly. I was pretty sure Kaz would have seen us by now, knowing how observant he is, but the idea was too tempting. We slid behind the slant of the roof and Inej silently leaped to a nearby tree, her wire-y figure wrapping around the limbs on it, gripping the bark. She chucked a pinecone at Jesper, knocking the eccentric hat off of his head. He squeaked as he attempted to get the snow off of his hat. Inej disappeared behind the tree as the two boys looked up at the direction the pinecone came from. As I aimed to hit Kaz with a pinecone, I slipped slightly. His keen eyes landed on the roof, but not before I hid myself from his line of vision.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." I whispered, still wearing Kaz's coat. I stayed silent for a moment before hearing the crunching of boots in the snow. I quickly hurled the pinecone at Kaz's head, but he swung his cane, hitting the pinecone perfectly. He didn't even look up. Before I realized it, the pinecone was headed straight for me. He was aiming for me. I dodged it, but in the process my grip on the roof loosened, causing me to slide down the roof towards Jesper and Kaz. They looked up at the roof, and the sharpshooter leaped to catch me. I fell into his arms with a thud.

I smiled nervously, "hey guys..." Inej shimmied down the tree and quickly came to check on me. Jesper let me down, laughing the whole time, but Kaz had an indescribable expression on his face.

"I told you we can't have you dead," his tone was serious, my smile dropping abruptly. "Stick to what you're good at; making your presence known, Seductress." He admonished my actions as he walked inside with firewood in one hand, cane in the other. Why am I so foolish when I'm around him?

Inej followed after him, sternly explaining it was her idea. I felt a warmth in my heart as she defended me.

"Come, Y/n, let's talk," Jesper said. He had a pelt of fur draped over him, keeping him warmer. I followed him in the frosty woods behind the cabin. He smirked a bit as we made our way around trees and fallen logs, as well as other suffering vegetation.

"Is something wrong? Do you need relationship advice for Wylan?" I asked with a twinge of concern.

"Oh, no, no. It's about Kaz," his self-assured demeanor stayed strong as I attempted to keep pace with his long-limbed figure. "He's taken an unusual liking to you." He gestured to coat I was wearing.

"He was just being polite," I said, but even I had a hard time saying it without becoming skeptical.

Jesper snorted and shook his head, "Kaz isn't nice to for no reason, Y/n. Despite was people say, Kaz Brekker always has a reason."

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Word Count: 2344

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I realize this seems more like a fast paced romance, but don't worry, the girl falls first in this story. We'll get there...

-Valentine

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