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rosiesmuts · 7 months

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The Temptations of Jennie Kim

BLACKPINK Jennie

Words: 4,000

A/N: Boo! 👻

Jennie Kim is a pure unadulterated bitch.

Obstacle one is making it past the bouncer; having your name on the guest list makes that an easy task. Obstacle two is the sea of people; a VIP wristband solves that little inconvenience. Your expected prize for completing these side quests is a night of dancing, ending with divulging in the salacious body of a world famous idol. The light at the end of the tunnel is anything but. Obstacle three is something you couldn't see coming. That world famous idol has already found her seat, only it's on the lap of another man.

Your mind goes a million miles a minute trying to figure out a plan:

1) 'I should go up and confront her.' No, causing a scene wouldn't be good for anyone.

2) 'Fuck this I should just go home.' No, I can't let her just win so easily.

3) 'Fuck it, I'm already here, might as well grab a drink.' I guess this is the winner.

Probably not the best plan, but the one you've chosen.

"Don't tell me you're obsessed over her too."

An unfamiliar voice. Your eyes follow the voice, finding yourself face to face with a beautiful woman. It shouldn't be a surprise, this club is crawling with them. Too busy wallowing in your pity to notice her join your table and too late now to do anything about it.

"Huh?" Admittedly not the most suave response, but it's the one that comes blurting out.

"Jennie. Half the guys here are just sitting here staring at her, what's so special about her anyway?"

"Are you really surprised? BLACKPINK is a pretty big deal. Besides I want staring I was just-"

"Look at yourself, you're even sneaking in little peeks while talking to me."

Her hand is placed under your chin, forcing you to finally take a good look at her. You start to speak but she cuts you off.

"What’re you drinking?"

"Whiskey."

It's rare to see a woman take control. And here you were, sitting face to face with one. She flags someone down and orders you a fresh drink.

"What's your name?" You regret your lame choice of ice breaker the moment it's said out loud.

"Unimportant. Let's just have some fun and see where it leads."

Maybe there is a god. So far nothing you've said could be constituted as smooth, yet here she was, still giving you a chance.

Where things led was more surprises: first, a dance. A hot body pressed close and shaking, accompanied by a mind clouding cocktail of scents. Your eyes dart all over her: the glow of the mysterious woman's pale skin under the multicolored lights; her plump lips; her toned midriff.

"Still thinking about Jennie? I think you've got enough room to squeeze me in."

Both her hands come to rest at your hips, gently pushing yours forward and squeezing your body closer to hers. Your eyes lock, the music from the club fades out, and you find yourselves with your noses an inch away. This insanely hot girl, not the one you intended to spend tonight with, but not the worst thing you can think of right now. The tip of her nose brushes yours and her hands push forward one last time, the kiss can only be delayed a second longer.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

Jennie Kim has some nice timing. Just when you were about to give into this other woman, there was a tug on your shoulder and you're spun around–Jennie Kim's face, contorted with a mixture of anger and jealousy.

"You. Step the fuck back, he's not yours." Jennie shoves her hand out to your impromptu date, but that was apparently not an adequate barrier to keep her away. The girl comes up and wraps around your arm, not allowing Jennie to steal you away.

"He was until you got in my way."

"In case you didn't hear: step the fucking hell away." Jennie is nothing short of livid. People have stopped dancing, staring at the unfolding scene. Your new date notices the attention.

"Fine! He's not worth it anyway." And just like that your new acquaintance storms off, her hips and the smoke trailing from the bottom of her black dress being the last you'll ever see of her.

"Walk. Right. Now." Jennie drags you towards the hallway, likely intent on either berating or maiming you somewhere in private. In any other scenario it would sound like the fantasy of every man in South Korea, but right now you know it's bad.

A private room behind the dancefloor, a much better place to be killed and your corpse dumped than in front of hundreds of witnesses. She shuts the door with a slam hard enough you think it might shatter and locks it with an unnecessarily loud click.

"Who the fuck was that? You've only been here two minutes and you're already on top of another woman?!"

"Hey, hey, fuck you Jennie. Do you know what I saw when I came here? After you invited me? Oh you were totally there, sitting on another man's lap."

"That's not the same."

"Not the same my ass. Can you even begin to explain what it is then? No of course you can't. Because you're a spoiled fucking idol who does whatever the fuck you want."

You turn to leave, but are pulled back and receive a rough slap across the face. There's no pain, only the sudden red color filling up that side of your vision. She did it again. This time it brings with it the burning sensation. A stinging radiates across your cheek, an angry mark that burns more as the adrenaline fades.

Then in almost cliche like fashion you grab her face and slam her into the nearby wall, returning her slap with an aggressive kiss. Jennie doesn't try to pull away, in fact she gives just as much as she receives. If her jealousy made her slap, her frustration makes her kiss harder, her teeth digging in slightly at her efforts.

"Someone is still obsessed with me hmm~?"

"Fuck you." The reply is snarled out through the tears in your teeth.

"Why don't you? Make sure everyone out there knows who you belong to. You weren't even interested in that slut anyway. All you could think about was me."

Any rebuttal was silenced the instant a hand traced the outline of the bulge forming in your jeans. No words need to be said; she's right, there's only her. Her face, her smell, her voice. Jennie bites your collarbone through the shirt to try and get a rise and boy does it. A firm hand groping her behind and pulling her into you, meeting the hardness growing in your jeans. Jennie chuckles, enjoying the reaction.

"Do it. Go ahead."

Jennie fucking Kim. The girl of your dreams. The girl of your nightmares. You've fallen into her trap. What's happening right now can only be described as karma's cruel payback, an attempt to dangle your greatest desire right in front of your nose–before a final humiliating insult is slapped on it.

"You little bitch." Jennie taunts you, unraveling her flirtatious intentions as her skirt rides higher and higher along with your patience. "Go on. Put me through the wall. Pull it out and fuck me as hard as you can."

It would be too easy, wouldn't it? Giving her what she wants after what she did. Instead she's dragged to the couch and bent over you knees. Jennie yelps in surprise, before realizing what's coming to her.

SMACK.

"I didn't say stop." Jennie responds after feeling the forceful slap at her backside.

Another. Jennie cries out, before letting the sweetest sounds come tumbling out of her mouth. Your palm raises once more, pauses, and then swings down and impacts against the exposed skin. A large pink spot forms on the exposed skin as a result and you're starting to think Jennie is actually getting turned on.

"P-please."

"Well since you asked so nicely."

Her panties are brushed to the side and two fingers plunge in and begin exploring without any warning. Jennie squeaks and curls up at the sudden and bold invasion, but it doesn't take long before those two fingers find the sweet spot and stimulate a cascade of pleasurable electricity. In and out they go, aided in their efforts by the squelch of their occupant's excitement. The couch rocks as Jennie arches and bucks wildly, alternating between sporadic whimpers and full on screams of delight.

"I'm so close...so so close..."

Your fingers pull free then another smack against her ass again, interrupting her moment of bliss.

"You think you deserve to cum Jennie? Hmm?"

Jennie answers with an arch to her back, a long, sensual moan that turns into a low pitched growl.

"Yes...Yes...just let me cum please please."

She's grinding at the air, her desperation on full display. You're just a few seconds away from finishing her, of making this cute bitch cry out and go rigid as waves of pleasure radiate all the way from her groin to the rest of her body.

"Feel that pressed against your stomach Jennie? I think you need to suck it. Prove you deserve it."

Her feet meet the ground as she kneels between you legs, and with a final lustful glance, begins to pull away the zipper to your jeans. "You're a real fucker aren't you? Fine, I'll show you."

Down goes your underwear, tossed to the side of the couch, and up Jennie comes with the heaving package in her face. A tiny lick along the bottom of the shaft and then a more robust and adventurous one the entire length. No preamble this time, only the sudden heat and wetness as the girl with a history of petty remarks envelopes your member, coiling her tongue around the sensitive areas and sinking further into your lap.

This girl, Jennie Kim. How can she be so talented at such a crude act? The walls of her mouth shift in a thousand ways as she draws a throaty groan out of you, her tongue expertly knowing all the ways to drive you crazy. This fucking bitch, going deep, purposely drooling all over it, and looking up in satisfaction as she gags and chokes. Up and down she goes, swallowing and sucking back a mouthful every single time she rises. The picture perfect idol, loving nothing more than a throat full of cock, a wide streak of mascara under her eyes and spit all over her face.

The room grows ever hotter, the look in Jennie's eyes begging, imploring for you not to hold back. You sit upright and clutch onto her hair, fingers locking as tight as possible to guide her, taking charge of her bobbing head, sending yourself all the way up to your pelvis. Her arms are limp, her face is a mess, you've reduced a famous singer and model to a panting wreck, and that sight is almost too much.

"Fuck my mouth..." the pleads of the famous superstar when you let her up for air. Her request is granted, her hair gets pulled and the momentum carries your pulsating member all the way to the base. Inch by inch, millimeter by millimeter until the tip of her nose touches the pubic bone and her jaw is stretched as wide as possible, the outline of the member embedded into her throat.

The unholy gags are the hottest fucking thing ever. And the little flutters, her struggle not to cough, the spasms. Jennie Kim, proudest bitch alive. Choking and gagging on your cock, no thoughts in her brain of anything else but to please. She loves it, she wants it. More, more, more, always more, begging with her eyes the only way she could.

With a heavy gasp, you finally let up, letting her burning lungs draw air. While she is a coughing wreck, her face slick with tears and saliva, the thought that fills the forefront of her mind is exactly what's about to happen. The thrill, the idea, the exhilaration, she can't contain the giggling smile.

Jennie was a bad girl, touching herself while you fucked her face, showing off her fingers covered in her own juices and licking them clean. This woman was going to be the end of you, that smirk.

"You and that stupid ass cock." Jennie takes matters into her own hands, straddling your lap, lining up the tip. She's in control, now she'll decide just how far you'll sink into her.

"Dumb fucking whore." Your fingers wrap around her delicate neck. Her eyes widen, not in fear, but in excitement. They darken, her pupils dilating, the clear response to the aggression is reflected in a quickened pulse under the flesh. It isn't surprising the more forceful you get, the wetter she seems to get.

And holy fuck it feels so fucking good, Jennie's lower lips engulfing your tip. The walls of her cavern part and pull you deep within her, her breathing changes pace and volume, whimpering and panting as it sinks in further. She's warm, she's welcoming. Every inch is a bit tighter, the friction causing your heart rate to rise, and her arms, encircling you in a vice grip, coaxing a tighter hold on her throat. You can almost see the lightheaded effect it's having, the subtle shifts in her vision, the dream like daze that accompanies such euphoric sexual bliss.

Up and down Jennie bounces, the tempo of her breathing just a second out of synch, every moan coming just a second later. You don't try to hide your own pleasure either, groaning with a volume only a centimeter away from yelling and definitely noticeable beyond the walls. With a firm slap to the ass, her pussy responds in the best possible way; squeezing tightly for a moment and sending a pleasant shiver down your body.

Jennie fucking Kim. Her tightness, her perky tits, the fucking supermodel and worldwide heartthrob, riding you. That's a story to tell. The sight of this gorgeous bitch bouncing up and down like her life depends on it, the sound of flesh colliding reverberating throughout the room.

Her cries of pleasure come louder, with no sign of the fun ending any time soon. Another thrust and her eyes roll to the top of their sockets. The adorable scrunch in her nose, the contortion of the expression of carnal pleasure, the euphoria right after. The small smirk in the corner of her lips and the grinding of her hips into yours. She's close. Her face gives that away. Her walls pulsate, and if that doesn't sell it the pitch change of the moans certainly do. Her noises shift in timbre. Whines and loud whimpers, the sudden erratic nature.

There's no stopping her now, it's out of your control, and it's fucking beautiful. Jennie fucking Kim, cumming on your lap. Her thighs begin to spasm, a waterfall of juices spilling all the way down to the floor, pooling around your ankles. That fucking face, a cacophony of ecstasy. Then with one final, powerful groan, she suddenly stops. Her eyes shoot open and she curls up, freezing and grinding away. You pull her hair back, forcing the perfect idol to bare her neck and shriek, as her orgasm consumes her senses, her legs thrashing about and toes curled into their arches. Jennie fucking Kim came, her face red and a smile creeping upon the ends of her lips.

It's not over, not even close. Jennie's face a mask of desire, her breathing deep, still needing more, the short, panting breaths catching the tiny pieces of her hair waving across her face.

"Fuck me like you mean it." Jennie goads you on. Your hands wrap around her tiny waist, fingers digging into her flesh, and you start thrusting. Up into her body, down into her lap, each of her downward drops meeting a upward thrust, your hips meeting hers halfway. In no time her squeaky noises are echoing against the walls, your pelvic bones colliding hard, both of your bodies jerking about as you throw everything into each pump. Her eyes turn dark, a drunken gaze. Fuck yes, those lips curling back into a naughty, crazed smile.

"You can't fucking resist it can you?" Jennie screams the question, feeling your hands force her up and slam her back down with your hips surging forward. Her whole body lurching backwards from the impact and then snapping forward from the following motion. Another one, the smack of flesh meeting flesh resounding once more and the squirt of liquids spraying the air and wetting the sides of the couch. Jennie no longer cares, letting her body get fucked and then roughly jammed downwards and impaling herself repeatedly, filling the room with the loud slaps.

"You're nothing but a fucking whore aren't you?" You say it directly to her face and as expected the deprecating talk turns her on like nothing else. A genuine laugh followed by a growl and a "you want this tight pussy all for yourself?"

And another smack, a spank and a squeeze of her delicate ass. Her neck tilts backwards. Yes! Look into those deep pools, her gorgeous, intense stare. Losing control, that face, her mouth, it's open and wet and covered in saliva. That cute kittenish tongue sticking out of the edge of her lips.

Another thrust. Jennie's body flies forward from the impact, a lustful grin stuck on her face, burying your face in her small tits. Her chest jiggles with each pounding, a single moment of freedom followed by an instant of being engulfed in their softness. Those perfect mounds of flesh, enough to drive any sane man or woman mad with obsession, bouncing inches from your eyes, sweat coating their supple surface. Her giggle erupts and she sees that dumb smile plastered all over your face. Her nose rubs against your own. The stare is intense.

"We really fucking hate each other huh?" Jennie teases then goes in for a kiss. A sloppy, messy affair, her nails dig into your back, leaving a series of scratches as her pussy tightens around the engorged member within her. She's cumming again, the contractions drawing out another series of grunts.

"That's right, keep your dumb cock buried inside, you fucking love this tight pussy."

Oh how far this idol has fallen, the foulest mouth coming out the prettiest lips. Then she whispers in your ears to hold her hips tighter and fuck her harder, and fuck did you deliver. Her throaty groans filling your ears, a crescendo and a rapid beating pulse under your palms. You're close, this little superstar making sure you're as deep as you can be and clinging for dear life.

Jennie's hands wrap around your throat, squeezing, choking the life out of you, your vision blurring, and at the same time she's squirting a second wave and shaking violently. Her hips never stop moving, fucking herself silly. She doesn't stop, the nasty smirk has returned and a mumbled string of 'fuck fuck fuck' under her breath.

Jennie fucks you. Those perfect abs, her slim body, the smell of sex radiates all throughout. You're getting lightheaded, this cute piece of ass a violent whirl of raven hair and painful grip. The harder she orgasms, the harder she squeezes your neck. Then, stars start filling your field of vision and your vision goes white, the pulses start firing. Sick sadistic oxygen depravation brings one of the hardest orgasms in your life. That twisted smirk of the psychotic woman, the evil in her gaze as the heat fills the pit of her belly. She feels it, your load splashing inside of her womb. As you release, so do her fingers, the blood rushing back to your brain not a moment too soon.

Her expression, oh how proud she is for her conquest. You couldn't look anywhere else, this perfect devil in front of your eyes. The cute, tingly and erotic feeling flowing from your groin, it never stops and only grows, the continuous shots, emptying everything you have into her. This little fucking bitch, controlling you until the very end.

Jennie fucking Kim sits satisfied as you gasp for air, a mixture of confusion, satisfaction, and pleasure overwhelming your body. That beautiful little smirk, her hips rolling about, enjoying your final twitches before everything softens.

"See, now tell me that wasn't worth the wait."

Jennie collapses forward, a content sigh, a murmur in your ear about how her body feels. Your legs and feet tingle, a sort of numbness and buzz from the powerful waves of euphoria. Jennie stretches like a cat, all while nuzzling against your neck.

She leans in for a kiss, soft, gentle, uncharacteristically kind. Fingers thread into her hair, your palm resting against the side of her neck. She's warm, and tired, the once energetic and brash girl now settling down, almost vulnerable.

"You know why I keep coming back to you?" Jennie seems almost kind, running her hands through your hair and looking at you with loving eyes.

"Must be my big cock." You tease her, pinching her bum, and stealing another kiss in the process.

"Of course you can't be serious for a single fucking minute." Jennie shoves her shoulder against yours. "No you idiot. When we fuck, it's so fucking good. And look at you. Trying to act all tough, but when I tell you to fuck me harder you do just that. And when I tell you just like that you don't change pace for a moment."

The affection, her soft words. Jennie Kim loves to act hard, to show herself off. There's the world's most famous pop star, snuggled into your shoulder. Her finger tracing along the outline of your chin, the last few beads of sweat dripping down her forehead and her eyelashes. Jennie almost looks sweet, smiling down upon you. That signature gummy smile, the tiny dimple on one side. How can someone so rough, have such a charming side?

"Give me your jacket fucker."

Now this, this was much more of a Jennie thing to say. What a cute and silly request after something as passionate as what the two of you did. Jennie's sweat soaked body. Your brain is a fog, still lost in the moment, struggling to take the demand seriously, still looking at those flawless thighs, now tinged pink.

"I can't leave this place looking like this. You're taking me home. Don't think I'm done with you yet." The look in her eyes, that mischievous glimmer. A girl bent on devouring you. Her knee pressed against your crotch drives you back into reality. "Did you not get the fucking memo? Hurry the fuck up."

There is no shortage of nerve in this girl, and fuck if her confidence and commanding tone isn't doing anything for the part of your brain in charge of desire. If anything, you know she's not exaggerating, she still isn't fucking done. Not by a long shot.

It'll be another long night, the same pattern of anger and lust. Spoiled fucking idol Jennie Kim, turning you into a fucking puppet. Letting you do the strangest things to her in the middle of the night. That bitch. That perfect little devil.

And you wouldn't have it any other way...

#male reader #blackpink smut #blackpink jennie smut #jennie smut

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loveindefinitely · 4 months

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༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

02 — THE NIGHT WE MET

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

Turns out, as much as water is wet, Soap likes to talk.

“Bloody Shadows,” he grunts under his breath. You’d given him your knife, so he could help you take down the men searching the tunnels. Now, after killing one, he’s got a weapon not unlike your own. In one hand, he wipes off the bloody knife on his thigh and slides it into his belt, and in the other, he checks over the stolen gun.

The water soaks your calves, a cloud of blood and a body along with it floating behind you both. Taking another step forward, the water ripples, the weight of it pulling as you continue to move forward, Soap at your flank.

“Your men feckin’ suck at their jobs, lass,” your new companion hisses, low enough not to echo but loud enough to have you rolling your eyes.

“They’re not used to this kind of fighting. It’s not their fault.” You’re not exactly sure why you’re defending them, when you’re decidedly betraying your entire unit, but you feel obligated to anyway.

“Or you’re just a bad Lieutenant.”

You shoot him an annoyed glance. “Wrong. I’m not a Lieutenant, Sergeant.”

You knew of his title because of something Ghost had said earlier, his voice carrying loud enough through the earpiece in the quiet of the shops. It suited him, in a way you couldn’t quite explain, just as the smell of the sea felt like more of a home than any building you’d encountered.

Keeping your head forward, you miss the roll of Soap’s eyes, and the flexing of his hand around the knife at his waist.

“Sorry, Corporal,” he retorts, and you bristle.

“Colonel will do,” you snap back, quickening your pace but keeping your movements quiet as you spot the shadows of your men up ahead. Stretching your hand out, you encourage Soap to pause.

Soap scoffs. “Dinnae think you’re above me.”

You go to continue the petty argument, when –

“Graves has lost his fucking mind over his chick.” A Shadow says around the curved corner, and Soap stops as you do. You see a flash of red, their flashlight, up ahead, and pull Soap’s shirt to stand with you against the wall.

“How much do you bet she’s found out about another girl he’s got goin’ on the side?”

Your chest constricts, and your body feels as though it’s frozen in time. Soap’s hand comes up to remove your grip on his shirt, and you don’t make a single argument or movement against it.

“That, or she’s gone to find another superior to fuck,” the other replies.

Within one moment, and the next, you pull your knife back from the sheath on Soap’s belt, and take a massive, sweeping step to your right.

It’s not a second later that the knife has flung from your fist, and met the neck of one of the gossiping Shadows. Blood spurts out of his neck, and he quickly finds himself falling forwards onto his knees, and then effectively being pulled by the motion of the flood.

“What the –” The other starts, but in one click, you’ve pressed the silencer onto the end of your gun, flicked off the safety and shot a bullet into the back of his head.

Your hands do not tremble. You don’t even make a noise.

Soap does, though, just as the sun is set to rise.

“Christ, lass, that was clean,” he says under his breath, before letting out a low, impressed whistle. “Colonel it is.”

You don’t respond. Instead, you just put your knife back into its rightful spot in your vest, flip on the safety, and continue to wade down the tunnel.

The words of the two Shadows echo in your mind, like your very soul has been hollowed out for the sole purpose of being a cavern of mindless thoughts. You suppose that’s the way of life.

By the time the two of you reach the end juncture of the tunnel, Soap’s killed two more Shadows. You haven’t hurt any since the last few, but it’s a small mercy. You’re not exactly itching to murder your… previous subordinates.

Previous. Past.

Whatever.

“Ghost says the church is just to the right, ‘nd up the stairs,” Soap supplies as the two of you make it to the T-junction. Giving him a small nod, you turn right, finding the said stairs mere metres away.

“It’s going to be rough out there,” you warn with a short glance his way.

He chuckles a humoured sound, surprising you with its warmth. “Aye can handle rough, lass,” he teases, and you’ll forever be grateful for his positive outlook on the situation. Humour was good, when one was going through such… bullshittery.

“What’s the plan after we meet with Ghost?” You ask lowly as you start ascending the brick steps, the dripping of water a debilitating soundtrack.

Soap is just a few steps behind you, his steps just slightly slower due to his injuries and general stress. “Eh, we’ll see. Ghost has probably got a rough idea already,” he admits. He seems to almost worship Ghost, although in a very different way to how you do – did – with Graves. “Lt for a reason, hen.”

“I’m not a chicken,” you snark back, hand resting at the dagger strapped onto your thigh. It’s a familiar habit.

Soap’s laugh, this time, comes out boisterous and almost shocked. It’s a loud, genuine thing, and you can’t find it in yourself to despise it.

“Yer funny for a traitor,” he responds, and your stomach hollows out once more.

Traitor.

That single word – title – rings in your ears like the bombs you’ve set off in past missions. Like a tormenting, cruel ghoul, whispering taunts in your ear. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor.

You don’t reply as you make it to the inside of a house, the front door seeming to face exactly where the two of you needed to go. Pausing before it, you look to Soap once more, cocking your gun.

“Ready, Sergeant?” You ask, both for his sake, and your own. Your resolve is weak, trembling, almost, but there’s no going back now. Not after this.

Soap lets out his own exhale, before his deep blue eyes meet yours. “Aye, I’m ready.”

You turn.

And you open the door.

“Jesus fuck!” Soap yells out, and your focus is quickly split between his sudden words, and the hilt of a gun crashing into the side of your head.

Falling to the ground with a groan, a bloom of light taunts you in the corner of your shut eyes, your skull pounding with the sudden pain. Bringing a hand up to the source of your ache, you slowly blink your eyes open, watching as your fingers come away with sticky blood coating them.

“I found her! She’s with –”

Looking up, your mouth falls open as a bullet lodges itself into the Shadow’s forehead, and he too, falls to the ground.

Except, unlike you, he would never get up again.

“Was that you, Lt?” Soap calls into his own comms, and he sounds nothing if not impressed. Rising to your knees, you manage to find your way back up to your feet, albeit with shaky movements.

Your vision is slightly skewed, and you feel somewhat out of it as you look outside, and spot the darkened streets once more.

Whatever Ghost responds with makes Soap laugh, but all you can focus on is that the church is so close. You guys could make it – no, you would make it.

And you would convince Graves to stop this, and to continue being the man you thought you knew.

You could fix everything.

“All good?” Soap asks you, then, appearing at your side like a trusted dog. You’re all too aware of how you must look – bewildered and bloody.

“What’re we waiting for?” Is your reply.

Turns out, a lot.

By the time the two of you make it to the steps of the church, there’s enough blood on your hands to make you think that it’ll never come off. Both figuratively, and physically.

“Johnny!”

Breath stilted, head pounding and ears ringing, your weighted gaze sloppily meets that of Simon Riley’s.

You’d never met the guy, never seen him, either. And in person, he’s terrifying in a guttural, instinctual way. All dark-clothed bulk, skull mask dirtied and stark in the eery night. The sniper strapped to his back just adds to his whole image.

“Fuck, Ghost, you’re –” Soap begins, but a bullet just missing his ear has his words silenced.

“We gotta find a way outta here,” Ghost directs, and you nod instinctively. At the movement, his eyes zero-in on your frame – and they narrow. His hands clench around the smaller, more close-range gun in his hands, and his jaw tightens.

Right. You weren’t friends, and you could hardly be called acquaintances.

Enemies, first and foremost.

Swallowing, you flit your gaze back to Soap, inclining your head towards the multitude of vehicles along the street to your left.

“Come on, we’re sitting ducks here. Let’s find a car and go,” you yell over the sound of the harsh pattering of rain, thunder reverberating through your chest. Your eyes maintain a wincing position, hair completely wet and droplets dripping from your face and gear, mascara coating underneath your eyes, and you’re sure, your cheeks.

“The lass is right,” Soap shifts his attention from you to Ghost, “C’mon, Lt.”

Ghost waits another moment, and even with Soap looking at him, his focus remains solely on you. His gaze is hard, cold, full of hatred and distaste.

“Please,” he insists, tone gone pleading and almost desperate.

It’s all Ghost must need, it seems, because he shifts the weight of his gun between his hands once more with a direct nod.

It’s not a moment later that more bullets are shot at the three of you, causing you to instantly find cover and press your back against it, quickly checking that your weapon is loaded. It is, thank the gods, and you quickly peek around the stall of which you’d used as cover and pop a few shots at some Shadows you see lining the streets. A few drop, and more yelling echoes throughout the town.

“There’s a truck with its lights on up ahead!” Ghost’s voice carries over the cacophony of sounds down the street, and you heave out a shaky breath. Turning just enough that you can search for the vehicle he’s talking about, your heart thumps in your chest as your eyes lock onto it.

You figure that the man must be further along the streets than you, so steeling your nerves, you stand up once more and raise your gun.

Soap and Ghost have already made a dent in the soldiers after the lot of you, but you find yourself lodging bullets into quite a few Shadows’ skulls anyways. To be on the other side like this, to kill your men, it’s a kind of pain you’d never even considered that you’d have to experience.

Your chest rises and falls at a concerning rate as you find the truck just a few feet away from you, Soap’s hand gripping the door to the passenger’s side, and Ghost jumping into the driver’s seat.

With one final pull of the trigger, you push Soap into the car, and rush into it right after him, pulling the door shut with an audible slam!

“Drive!” You quickly direct Ghost, pulling up your gun over the back of the seat and aiming it at the Shadows directing their sights to the three of you. “Before they kill us all!”

Ghost jerks, the glass of his window shattering as a bullet flies through, a searing pain bursting through the top of your right cheek. Cursing under your breath, you pull the trigger of your gun, Soap shooting his own at the same time.

With a burst of the accelerator, the truck goes rearing backwards, and your eyes go wide as you watch Ghost reverse into two Shadows, their bodies churning underneath the wheel.

“Fuckin’ hell, Lt!” Soap cries out, and just as he does, Ghost quickly manoeuvres the vehicle into drive. He’s quick about it, and you flinch as he crashes through the wired gate that had previously blocked off the street, the truck lurching with the movement.

With tight swerves, and a few more bullets shot from your guns, both you and Soap finally loosen your postures as you lose the couple of Shadows left behind.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you exhale a deep, meaningful breath.

“You good, hen?”

Blinking away the blurriness of your vision, you jolt when Soap’s hand reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb grazing the spot where the pain originates on your cheek. Letting out a small hiss, he immediately pulls away.

“Just a graze, I think,” you bite out, bringing your own shaky fingers to the wound. You can feel where the blood drips from it, along with the blood from your forehead.

“I found some cloth,” Soap pulls out said object, handing you a decently clean strip of tawny fabric. “Will it do?”

With a sharp nod, you take the fabric from his grip, righting yourself to face him properly. Looking down, you unzip one of the compartments on your vest, taking out a small first aid kit.

Soap lets out a low, impressed whistle. “Didn’t realise ye were a medic, lass.”

Despite yourself, and your situation, you can’t help the small tilt of your lips. “I’m a medical professional. Just chose to take lives, rather than save ‘em.”

“Well, ye saved mine today.”

Looking up from where you scavenge through the small kit, your eyes meet his. They’re so blue, and they shine beneath the night lights of Las Almas. Even with his wound, they seem so positive, so joyful and kind.

“And you saved my humanity,” you admit. It’s true, of course – if not for you crashing into him, you had no idea where you’d be right now.

Ghost clears his throat, and you quickly focus back in on your supplies, scurrying through them for the necessary items.

Pulling out a pair of medical scissors, and some cleaning alcohol, you wave for Soap to pull up his sleeve and give you his arm. He does, swearing under his breath as some of the crusted blood pulls away with the fabric of his shirt. His arm is nothing if not muscled, and if it were any other circumstance, any other man, you’d allow yourself a moment to appreciate such pure masculinity.

But this is an enemy, and this is a bullet wound.

“This’ll hurt,” you murmur, checking over the small alcohol bottle in your hand, before looking through the medkit once more. “And you’ve lost a lot of blood. Here.”

Reaching for a small piece of candy, you drop it into his open palm.

His eyes flicker from yours, to the small wrapper in his large hand. He seems to inspect it, for a moment, before his mouth twists into a mocking smirk.

“Sweethearts, aye?”

You roll your eyes, your cheeks burning for reasons other than your wound as you twist off the cap of the bottle in your hands. If you notice Ghost’s attention flit from the road ahead to the two of you, you don’t say a word.

“You need to get your sugars up. It’s not much, but it’s all I have right now,” you explain, refusing to look up at him. “Have one now, this’ll sting.”

He huffs, but undoes the wrapping and pops one of the lollies into his mouth. He hums.

With one hand on his shoulder, you bring up the bottle and drop some of the liquid onto the wound, flushing out any bacteria or infections. Hopefully.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap groans out, teeth clenched and jaw straining as his eyes flutter shut.

“Be careful,” Ghost warns, worry and threat bundled into the two words like a second skin. If you were one to be intimidated, you would take the sentiment seriously, but all you can focus on is the obvious care for his companion.

Very odd, indeed.

“How’s the candy?” You ask, grabbing a sterilising wipe and cleaning up around the wound. Luckily, the bullet had exited – there wouldn’t be a need to go digging in there. That also meant that you had to clean the other side of his arm, however.

Soap’s chuckle comes out strained, but it’s better than silence.

“Delicious, sweetheart.”

You pause your movements, briefly, your chest tightening at the mocking endearment.

“Sweetheart?” You repeat back, your tone a question, before you continue to clean his wounds, albeit with more stilted movements.

“The lollies,” Ghost supplies, and you can’t help but think that he either thinks you’re dumb, or just generally despises you.

Maybe both.

…Definitely both.

“Yer jus’ so sweet, lass,” Soap taunts, before letting out a sound akin to a whimper when you swipe the wipe a bit too close to his wound.

“My bad,” your smile is sickeningly sweet, your tone light and innocent.

Soap’s jaw sets, but silence fills the truck as you make sure that the cloth will properly fit around the wound, getting out a safety pin to keep it around his arm.

It takes a few minutes for you to wrap the makeshift gauze around his skin, the groans of pain from him few and far between. Despite everything, you were a good medic. You’d been trained well, and you had the cadence for it.

Usually.

Fastening the clip through the cloth, you fix it up so it looks presentable enough, and successful for its job.

“All done,” you say softly, hesitant to speak up in the silence of the space.

You go to pack up your supplies, before a hand reaches out and wraps around your wrist, stopping your movements.

Flicking your gaze up to Soap’s, you go to open your mouth to say something, but find yourself at a loss for words. Your eyebrows furrow, and he seems to sense your confusion, because –

“Yer wounds,” he blurts out, wincing at the suddenness of his proposal. “...Yer wounded. Too.”

You can’t stop a shocked, sharp laugh leaving your lips. “I’m very aware of that, yes. Brilliant observation, Sherlock.”

“Let him speak,” Ghost grits out, and Soap’s grip tightens around your wrist. The smell of blood and gunpowder is potent in the night, but you find yourself at ease with the somewhat familiar scent. What’s throwing you off is the sudden add-on of their cologne – somehow, someway, you can smell it. Whether it’s military-duty, or it’s ingrained into their very bones, you haven’t a clue.

You could slap yourself for noticing, for being curious at all.

They smell oddly like cedarwood and musk.

“Let me fix ye up,” Soap supplies, and you can’t do anything but oblige.

Handing him the first aid kit, your fingers brush, and it really, really shouldn’t mean a thing. For the gods’ sake, you’d had your hands all over his upper arm just mere moments ago.

But there’s a spark.

Like a universal truth, maybe. Like a sensation of sudden purpose, as if all this time, all of your life, had led up to this very moment. To this very person.

You pull away sharply, and Soap doesn’t comment on it.

You’ll forever be grateful for that.

“This’ll hurt,” Soap chides, mocking your voice. You fight the urge to slap that smug grin off of his face.

You notice Ghost’s uneasy grip on the steering wheel as he cruises through the city, taking odd turns and slightly too risky manoeuvres. His focus is designated directly to his task, only occasionally checking on Soap.

Fingers underneath your chin force you to look to the Scot at your side, his movement gentle but fingers calloused and weathered. It’s an impossible dichotomy, but one you find yourself relaxing into anyways; the kind of impossible that one starts to think of as home.

Yet, your home is far from here.

Your home is in Graves’ quarters. At the Shadows’ base.

It’s difficult to suppress the groan when Soap brushes the alcohol wipe against your cheek, but biting down on your lower lip does the job. If anything, it makes you focus on the sharp pain of that, rather than the graze on your cheek.

The trick lasts a few minutes, before Ghost goes over a particularly rough bump, causing the wipe to dig into your open wound. Your head falls forward, a soft grunt falling from your lips at the burst of pain.

“Aye, lass, ‘s alright,” Soap soothes, but it does little for your growing embarrassment.

You shoot your glare his way, settling back further into your seat. “Thanks, but that’s enough for now.”

Soap’s expression betrays his inner turmoil, but you turn, looking out of the window.

The darkness and rain battle along the forested roads, and it’s only now that you realise you’ve left the city. And, also, that you have no idea what’s happening, or where the fuck you’re even going.

“What’s the plan?” You ask steadily, falsifying your growing apprehension.

“A safehouse,” Ghost grunts the reply, and you already know that that’s all you’re going to get from him for now. Letting out a small huff, you fold your arms over your chest, resolutely not looking at Soap.

If you did, you’d see him personifying a kicked puppy.

Silence falls, once again, over the three of you. It allows for you to think, both over the storm brewing both outside, and in your head.

You weren’t sure how long it would take Graves to realise that you betrayed him, if he would believe it at all. Somehow, you wouldn’t put it past him to say that this is all an elaborate kidnapping, but you figure he must have bigger problems to deal with than you going missing right now.

Then, there was the issue of alliances. Ghost hadn’t exactly agreed to working with you, and he definitely showed no signs of being anything but cold towards you. And, even then, could you really kill your – whatever Graves was – if it came down to it?

And what was to happen next? After everything was said and done? Would the 141 allow you to work with them?

Would you want to?

“We’re here.”

Pulling the handbrake, the truck stops, and you see that Ghost has pulled up outside a safehouse of some sort, in the outskirts of Las Almas.

You go to get out, but you realise that your door’s remained locked – and when you turn to question Ghost, you soon gather that it’s a purposeful move.

Ghost’s eyes narrow on you, calculating and assessing, before he says, voice like a gunshot in the quiet of the night –

“Give me a reason not to kill you right now, 'nd we might let you live.”

You swallow around the desert that your mouth’s become, and with shaky words, you respond.

a/n. first post of 2024!! i hope everyone enjoys, and if u did, please comment, reblog and follow!! mwah mwah

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias

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noirscript · 3 months

Text

silent servitude

WARNING/S! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. YANDERE. noncon; breeding; powerplay; biting; slightly descriptive sex scenes; f!reader

One must abide by His Majesty's every rule.

It was a phrase you often hear from other servants in the castle from the moment you joined them as your mother's apprentice. A phrase that helped them survive the dog-eat-dog world inside the palace walls.

“You're not expected to excel in your work, but do not even think about failing the task given to you.” Your mother grabbed your shoulders with a squeeze. “Do you understand, my child?”

You nodded your head as you tightened your grip on your skirt. “Yes, mother.”

She lightly tap your cheek before placing a lasting kiss on your forehead. “Go on, dear. I will see you before sunset.”

You looked around your surroundings before hesitantly nodding. For some reason, you can't seem to ignore what you've been feeling from the moment you entered the servant's gate. As if someone's watching your every move.

The path inside the dark tunnel was short, but for you, the time seemed to slow down. Your feet felt heavy to take one step forward after another. Like it was keeping you from going any further.

“You've arrived,” a middle-aged woman spoke while standing in the midst of the desolate area, few steps from where you came from. “Follow me.”

You scanned your surroundings, a poor attempt in remembering the path where you came from. However, the more you walk further and further away from the path that leads to your mother, the more you could sense something ominous was about to occur.

“Are you listening?”

You bowed your head and apologized.

“Stand tall and look at me,” she ordered. “In this castle, you must keep your eyes and ears open at all times. Do not even try to let your mind wander elsewhere. If you don’t want to suffer any consequences.”

Your body shook. You tried to speak, but your voice broke. However, when you nodded your head in desperation, the woman simply turn around and started to list down the rules within that castle.

“Do you even know why you're here?”

“T-To train to become my m-mother's replacement...”

The woman sneered. “If that'll help you sleep at night.”

After giving you a tour around an area that only a handful of servants can access, she led you towards a gated path that lead towards a small chateau in the middle of a small open field inside the castle walls.

The chateau, albeit small compared to the colossal main palace, was still bigger than your home. You also noticed the crawling vines on its walls, and as well as its tinted windows that kept its interior hidden from prying eyes.

“You will keep this place in order. You may not ask for anyone's help. You will only work here alone. Your food will be provided by one of the servants, but do not let anyone else inside the chateau.”

“But my lady...”

“That is all you need to know.” She looked down at your stature before clicking her tongue. “Stupid commoners.”

With that, she left you on your own.

THINKING BACK, you should've realized the message behind her poisonous words. Nobody would think that it is normal for a servant to clean an entire chateau within the day all by themselves.

That doing such chore might result to an inevitable mishaps that forces one to change their attire. Something that might force them to take every piece of clothing from themselves.

“Y-Your Majesty, please forgive this commoner from—” you felt one of his large, calloused hand caressing your face while the other hand pulled you closer to his bare body.

“Kept that mouth shut before I do it myself,” he whispered against your cheek before slightly biting it. “Who would've thought that this would be an easy chase?”

Callix, the reigning monarch, is known for his compassion towards the commoners. Some people would even see him interact with the lowest of the poor during their darkest moment, providing them hope and warmth.

But as you writhe beneath him, allowing him to touch every inch of your body as he please, made you doubt everything you heard about him.

After savoring your heat, he aligned his thick member against your quim. Callix grabbed you by your cheeks and forced you to meet his gaze.

“Please...” you pleaded, but he only swallowed all your pleas and cries as he penetrated your tight walls.

When your first intercourse with him ended almost immediately, you believed that he would let you go. That he would order you leave and never show yourself in front of him.

But after resting his head against the crook of your neck, he suddenly grabbed your ankles and pushing it apart.

You could feel his cum gush out of your quim, but Callix was far from satisfied.

That night alone, he ravished your body until the morning sun has risen.

When you woke up, you felt the coldness of the heavy iron wrapped around your ankles.

“You're awake,” you heard his voice from somewhere in the room. “I have some news for you. So, open your eyes.”

You tried to open your eyes, but for some reason, your eyelids felt heavy.

“Are you disobeying my orders?” he asked while gritting his teeth.

“Open your eyes!” he demanded as he grab your cheeks tightly.

You tried your best to open at least one of your eyes and look at him.

“There's my queen's beautiful eyes.” You could feel his hands all over your body as he leave kissing against your face. “Can you hear me, my queen?”

“M’not... queen...”

He chuckled before yanking your hair back, exposing your neck to him.

“You dare oppose me, hm?” he asked as he harshly nip your neck. “Are you forgetting who I am, my queen?”

How you wish you could simply forget who he is.

Quick note: This might be the start of some series. Let me know your thoughts :)

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere fic #yandere blog #yancore #yandere king #yandere royalty #dead dove do not eat #tw.noncon #tw.dark content #tw.breeding #tw.yandere #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #smut #yandere male

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canyourfavesurvivecastledracula · 3 months

Note

Indiana Jones?

My gut answer is that Indiana Jones is far too manful to make it through, but I have been urged to consider the fact that he isn't just a bold Adventurer, he's also a Professor of Archaeology. He has expertise thar may well be relevant to the question.

I read a lovely essay on here once that talks about Indy's arc being one of acquiring a sense of reverence for the divine. I think the argument was that Temple of Doom should be understood as a prequel because it backpedals that characterization which becomes crucial in the Last Crusade. All this to say it might be an oversimplification to pigeonhole him as the kind of cocky that gets you immediately killed. He would accept the gift of the crucifix. He might have enough background knowledge to know what he's getting into, or at least recognize it when he sees it.

If he comes to Castle Dracula in his affect as Professor, he's got a fair shot at being wildly underestimated. But he also probably doesn't have his whip... not that the whip would help him much in this situation. The intercepted letters are exactly the sort of ploy he might try and fail at, after which the theft is inevitable - no whip, no gun, no hat (!!). Poor Indy.

I think though the thing he's most hampered by is the absence of mooks. Indiana Jones overwhelmingly survives his adventures because disposable mooks get killed first. Or he punches one and takes his clothes. He gets to Find Out because Nazis went first and Fucked Around. He relies hugely on other people, both allies and enemies, and there are no other people at Castle Dracula. Like... maybe Dracula's hired movers might be able to play a similar role? But they don't come into the Castle.

I don't think he'd go for the wolves, because be has a long history of noping himself away from clear and present danger. He also has the kind of face that seems to make villains want to tie him to a chair and monologue at him, and we know how Dracula loves a captive audience, so he might actually be funny enough long enough to stay alive. I guess it depends on whether Dracula enjoys having insults spat at him in impotent defiance from a guy tied to a chair as much as he enjoys forcing a guy to smile and nod in hopeless terror while still playing the perfect host. Indy has no problem being rude to people who have him tied to things. It's a toss up but I don't know if it's got two solid months of staying power.

On the other hand IF Castle Dracula has a secret escape tunnel (and what self-respecting castle doesn't) he can definitely find it.

Actually, actually though, if Indy can make it to the end of the sequence by playing the helpless nerd, can escape, because he's the sort of guy who will try to smuggle himself out in one of the dirt boxes. Even if he doesn't get out the door that way, if he can stay put until the movers arrive this becomes a Punching Mooks task, which is what he's good at.

So I am going to say that Professor Henry "Indiana" Jones can survive Castle Dracula, just because I want to see the inevitable exploding lieterwagon chase

#indiana jones #academics #action heroes

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aouiaa · 1 month

Text

Reflect

Outline: When all the leads dried up, Ellie is forced to accept the heart wrenching reality that she’s never gonna see you again. Until two years and half later, the unexpected happens. People don’t come back from the dead so, How did you?

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: Tlou au + Death and a lot mentions of it + Mentions of suicidal behavior + Angst (alot of it) + Fluff + Self-deprecation + Flashback? + Mention of weapons + Mentions Harm inflicted to R and others + Torture + Depression + Mentions of blood + Mentions of grieving + Mentions of survivor’s guilt + Description of a corpse (I think that’s it, comment if I missed any!)

Previous Chapter -> Chapter two -> Next Chapter

Two and half years ago…

Five weeks after the Calamity.

Get out of bed

Get dressed

walk to…

Everything since the…incident, felt like a task. Obligations that only got harder and harder to complete each day. Shower…check. Make your bed…check. But today was the hardest.

It was your funeral, and fuck was it the hardest task to get done. But she couldn’t miss today, no she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. So here she is, standing beside Joel staring down at her shoes. And the tension being around your family was suffocating. She felt their stares, their fucking stares.

Did they blame her?

Wouldn’t blame them if they did.

The priest’s soft-spoken tone only made this feel more real, “Today we are gathered here to celebrate the life of Y/N L/N, who left the world of the living to start the journey in that of the dead. Though she lives...” his voice faded as Ellie submerges into her overwhelming thoughts.

She couldn’t believe it, you were really gone. This is the first time in weeks since she’s been outside her once vibrant, and happy room, rotting away. Replaying it over and over, thinking what she could’ve done. What could’ve kept you alive.

But if she’s in her head for too long that’s when her self conscious begins to gnaw at her and sometimes enflaming her. She hated herself for letting you down, letting you spend your last moments in fear. Not a peaceful and soft moment, but in one where the world was on fire. Where hands of the devil himself were pulling you back into the pits.

What’ll forever keep her up at night is your scream, and the look of pure terror on your face as you were pulled back before darkness took Ellie’s vision. She often loathed about if your final moments were merciful and not cruel. If it was quick and painless rather than torturous.

God she hoped not—

“May she rest easy now” The voice of the priest disturbs and elicits Ellie to look up.

As the priest finishes the last of your eulogy, One by one everyone begins throwing their roses onto your casket. And when it was Ellie’s time to let hers go, she kisses it as a final form of goodbye and watches as it falls in with the rest.

“Rest easy, angel.”

Present…

“Y/n?”

Every night before today she’d pray. Prayed, that she'd open her eyes and you’d be there, sleeping peacefully beside her—like nothing ever happened. But it never did happen, and she stupidly secretly held on to that possibility. Even if it sounded ludicrous, she still held on to that small hope.

And now that hope was in front of her, getting off a horse. She didn’t want to believe it, she couldn’t. She thought that she finally lost her mind. Seeing your face on different people.

Snap out of it.

She scolds herself, closing her eyes, and taking a few deep breaths. Feeling her face reddening up from embarrassment from how stupid she must’ve seem calling out to a dead person. She doesn’t know how long she stood in the dark, terrified to meet the disappointment that always shined at the end of the tunnel.

“Ellie?”

But there it was, your voice. The sweet sound that could only be heard in her dreams. That euphoric feeling Ellie would get just by hearing it, turned into despair, when she couldn't remember it anymore. Locked and sealed away when she woke up. Like her mind was playing against her. How torturous it felt to be humiliated by her own mind.

But she heard it, one that couldn’t be replicated.

She opened her eyes hesitantly, but in front of her was you. You weren't a hallucination—No you were real and here in front of her face. Tears welled up in her eyes as she rushed towards you, giving you the tightest hug. Not loosening the grip she had around you once because she’d be damned if she did again.

Only once to cup your tear stained face, “How—How is this real?” She stammers, scanning your features. The amount of blemishes that littered your face didn’t ravage your beauty. Her thumb lightly grazed over a scar on your left cheek, What happened to you? She didn’t question you, of course. The timing wasn’t right.

“We have to get them to the infirmary, Ellie.” A voice snaps her out of her thoughts, and looking to the side to see standing beside her was Maria with her hand on Ellie’s shoulder. Still in her frenzy state, she just stares at Maria before replying.

“Yeah, yeah—let’s go.”

She stayed in the infirmary with you for sixteen hours just staring at you as you slept. You were being supplied with the appropriate amount of nourishment via VI. And she just sat there in that uncomfortable ass chair just staring at you, scared to even blink. Because maybe if she did, you’d disappear. She had so many questions rightfully so. But she didn’t want to overwhelm you with them all. You were in a fragile state of mind.

Next morning, you woke to see Ellie already looking at you. Her eye bags were more prominent, Did she not get any sleep? Did she stay up all night just staring at you? “Hey, how are you feeling?” her voice still sounded so familiar, yet so foreign. You just stare at Ellie not knowing if this was real, your mind had to be fucking with you again. You begin to tear up which Ellie catches on immediately, and wipes the fallen tears rolling down your cheek.

As soon as you feel her touch, her finger grazing over your cheek lightly, you gasp. Your mind wasn’t playing with you, you were here. Back home? “Relax, it’s okay, just breathe. You’re home again.” her voice was so soothing, it made your stomach twist into uncomfortable knotting.

“Are—are you real?” you stuttered, not truly believing after everything you’ve been through, you’d see the one person you’ve yearned for—just in front of you. Her freckles, you'd count every night but mess up halfway and give up an hour later out of frustration. Her hazel green eyes, you’d stare into every single moment of the day. Her plumped lips, you’d kiss everyday.

If you had anything in your system right now, you’d barf it all up.

“I am, just relax.” Ellie says, placing her hand on your arm. You look down at her hand gently placed on your forearm as you feel something bubbling inside of you. Not a love feeling but a weird one. Ellie could see it in your demeanor which causes her to remove her hand away with a quiet “sorry” falling from her lips before resting that hand on her lap.

You meet her gaze again, “Are you hungry?” you take a second to respond making Ellie uncomfortable slightly before replying with a small “Yeah.” Ellie nods, getting up and returning with a tray of food. “The nurse left it for when you woke up.” You grab the tray immediately, stuffing your mouth with food as Ellie settles down into her chair.

Ellie watches you before looking away and shifting in that stupid uncomfortable chair while scratching the back of her neck. Contemplating on what to do or say, anything to relieve this tension that strangled her. For a while, it’s just her mind eating at her and when she does finally decide to, she can’t bring herself to look at you when she begins, “I’m sorry for everything...” She whispers. You stop and look at her, confused. “What?”

“I’m sorry for everything.” she repeats in an audible tone, looking at you with tears forming at her waterline.

You catch on to what she’s referring to immediately and shake your head, “No it wasn’t your fault, Ellie.” You say, watching Ellie’s walls she built so high and secure, crumpled.

“No it is all my fault, why you're even in this position. I didn’t save you—“ she says in between sobs. “—I was weak and stupid and, and—“ she stammered over her words, placing her hand over her chest, trying to desperately breathe.

You look at this girl who you called call your girlfriend just cry. You didn’t know how to respond to this random burst of emotion. But one thing was for certain, you never blamed her once. Why would you? It wasn’t her fault, it was the people who captured you. Who ruined you. But you dealt with them.

“I never blamed you, not once.” you set your tray aside and move towards Ellie's trembling figure. Cupping her face gently to make her meet your soft gaze, “never once in that hell I was in did I blame you.”

When Ellie met your gaze, It only made her want to cry more. Throughout those two agonizing years, she sat in her hatred and guilt. She couldn’t accept the fact that you were gone because of her but here you were alive and telling the opposite. It felt confusing.

“What?”

“I never blamed you, Ellie.” You repeated, “You did everything you could.”

“Ellie, no!” you screamed.

You felt your heart drop when the grip your girlfriend had on your hand faltered. But that wasn’t the only thing she lost grip of. Her footing, you could see the fear on her face as she fell off the roof. That’d be the last expression you’d see on your lover’s face.

Fear.

Without the resistance you fall on your back, and you’re met with the difficulty of breathing. Every breath is met with the same irritation of carbon monoxide causing you to cough and wheeze. The fire has already spread to the bedroom and is slowly killing you. It went at a rapid pace up the walls and to the ceiling. The smoke created silhouettes of demons, it was hell on earth. And the devil had grabbed you pulling you with him to inferno.

You wouldn't let him though, no you wouldn’t go out like this. You kicked his hand off your leg, giving you a chance to crawl towards the open window and just as you’re gonna pull yourself up. A voice behind you says in a menacing song-like tone, “You’re too slow!”, and grabbing you by the hair, slamming your head against the windowsill. Upon impact, you felt your world spinning and your ears began to ring. Throwing you on the ground he gets on top of you, wrapping his hands around your throat.

You let out a choked mewl, bring your hands to his face, scratching at him. But to no avail, it only makes him add more pressure, “Don’t fight, it’ll make this more difficult” the gruff masculine voice said. You desperately try to break free but slowly succumb to the lack of oxygen. “Yeah, there you go.” is the last thing you hear before going unconscious.

You jolt awake from a sharp pain to your cheek. “Ah—fuck..” you hissed. Instinctively, you try to lift your hand to soothe the stinging pain, but you can’t. Confused, you look down at the lower half of your body to realize both of your hands are bound to the chair, along with your legs. Your eyes shoot up to investigate your surroundings.

Where am I? Why the fuck am I tied to this chair?

Upon inspection you realize you’re in a dimly lit bathroom. There’s filthy and dry splattered blood on the walls. Looking at the ragged mirrors mounted on the wall ahead, blood splattered and dried in its crevices. The sinks below are a whole nother story by themselves. But what’s more prominent in the room is an amazon of a woman in front of you. Or to help to understand—The one who rather rudely awakened you from your slumber.

Oh fuck..

You have so many questions racing through your mind; Where’s Ellie? Did they capture her too? Is she okay? Or is she dead? Who is this woman? What is she gonna do to me? Where the fuck am I? So many questions that litter your mind like a landfill, but gets soon disrupted by the beefy woman sitting in front of you.

Clearing her throat, she says, “I need your name.” she slouches forward into her chair, placing her elbows on her thighs. Her hardening gaze set on you as she waits for your answer. Your train of thoughts abruptly stops and goes blank. “I—Uhm…Y/n” you respond.

The muscular woman seems amused by your answer, “phff—“ She blows out a breathy snicker, “We already forgot our name? What a world we live in, huh?” She sneers, standing up and walks to one of the broken sinks, grabbing something. But you can’t quite see what it is due to her figure blocking your view, but the sound of a knife slinking out of its carrier is all the confirmation you need.

Your demeanor immediately tenses as the woman turns around with a knife in hand. You begin squirming in your chair, letting out a shaky breath. “Woah—what—what are you gonna do?”

Your immediate reaction makes the woman cackle, “Here’s how this is gonna go” She starts, kneeling down, and putting the knife dangerously close against your skin. “You’re gonna tell me what I wanna know and I won't ruin this pretty face of yours, yeah?” She taunts, turning her head to the side, a sinister smirk displayed on her face.

The knife blinds your left eye from little light that shines perfectly down onto the blade making you wince, your breathing starts to become erratic, “What are you gonna do to me?” you repeat, sheepishly, now staring at the woman in front of you.

“What I‘ma do to you?” She restates your question, “What Ima do depends on your choices.” She answers, grazing the knife gently against your cheek. You gulp, watching the woman as she stares at the knife grazing over your skin, seeming fixated by it before snapping out of her sick trance and meeting your gaze once again with an ominous smile on her face, making your guts twist and turn into unbearable knotts.

“So what’s it gonna be, huh?” She asks, but doesn’t let you answer, continuing, “Gonna die for your friends and that little girlfriend of yours or cooperate? The choice is yours.” She proposes, staring at you keenly as if she could scan your facade hard enough, she’d find the answer within your expressions.

With your choices layed out, you contemplate on your next move. Your landfilled mind only returning and overflowing with more thoughts. Why were you even contemplating this? There was no way in hell, you’d rat on Jackson, on Ellie. Even if you were to, this stranger would have no reason to keep you alive anymore since you would outlive your usefulness.

It was clear what you've chosen.

And the look on your face must’ve given it away because the woman's jaw suddenly clenched. “You seriously think your friends are looking for you? That girlfriend of yours doesn’t give a shit about you.” she insinuates, “because if they really cared, they’d be here by now—“

“Shut your fucking mouth, you dont know what you’re talking about—“ Your booming voice intrudes, you don’t know what empowered you to say that, but you should’ve just bite your tongue because your ears begin to ring as you endure a powerful smack to the face causing your head to fly to the right upon impact.

Turning your head slowly to face the woman, you’re met with an enraged expression plastered on her face, “You wanna keep fucking running that mouth, Huh?!” She spits out, “Better choose the next words out that stupid fucking mouth of yours carefully or I’ll cut your tongue out.” she threatens.

Still dazed from the assault, it takes you a second before mumbling out an incoherent sentence. “What was that?” she taunts, seeming to enjoy your suffering.

“I said—“

“Didn't hear ya, What was that?” She taunts, laughing.

“I said If you cut my tongue out” you huff out, watching her laugh, “how the fuck am I gonna tell you.” you remark.

The sound of laughter turns into silence with an inhuman look in her eyes morphing within seconds before saying, “Don’t say I didn't give you a chance.” She deadpans before plunging the knife into your thigh causing you to let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Interrogate, Torture, and Repeat.

That cycle had been going on for god knows how long. You were merely unrecognizable, the blood and bruising that littered your face was disturbing. You wondered how much more your body could take before death. Every blow she gave you, you wondered, Will this be the final blow? The final blow that takes me out of my misery? You hoped it did every. single. time.

But you didn’t go down, just kept withstanding the pain.

And when she felt like it was enough, she momentarily pauses and asks, “Ready to talk?” With all the strength you managed to gather, you lift your head and speak, “Is-is that all you got?” letting out a weak chuckle that turns into wheezing to coughing. The woman jaw clenches, “You just don’t know when to shut the fuck up, do you?” she sneers before landing a blow against your swollen cheek.

It sends your face slanting to the side upon impact causing you to spit out blood. It was a dumb move to even say that, you knew that. But if you were to die right now, you weren’t gonna die showing fear. You couldn’t show the one thing you knew she wanted to see you express. No, you’re not gonna let her get that satisfaction.

Grabbing your jaw, she redirects your gaze firmly to meet hers. She opens her mouth to talk, but a knock on the door leaves her speechless. You watch her huff in annoyance and look at the door.

“Enter.” she instructs.

The door opens to reveal a blonde woman, she scans the room and her eyes immediately land on you, seeming to scrutinize you.

“What is it?”

The sudden interruption causes her gaze to set on the woman in front of you, “Oh right,” she says softly before speaking in a firm audible voice,”Ma’am, Louis and Regina are here.”

A nod is shot at the blonde,” Alright, take them up to my office. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Alright, and her?”

“Take this one back with the others, she isn’t gonna talk…yet.” That “yet” runs a chill down your spine. You watch the woman in front of you let go of your jaw causing your head to go slack. The rough landing causes you to let out a weak groan as you hear the sounds of footsteps and soft murmurs with the shut of a door following behind it. There was a lot of eerie silence that came after that, a lot of it. You wanted to lift your head up to see what was happening but you couldn’t. Your body was tired and too weak to support that action.

So you waited.

Waited and waited until you heard the sounds of muffled talking and footsteps. The sound of the door opening is when you move your head, looking up you see a different pair of people. A woman and a man, their voices became more apparent.

“Alright, be ready. Ima cut these ropes off.” the woman instructs.

You hiss at the added pressure to your sore wrists as she undoes the ropes roughly, but as soon as the aching pressure is relieved, you fall forward. But the man in front of you breaks your fall, “Shit…Liana really fucked this girl up.” he says with a grunt as he lifts you up.

Liana…that was the woman who I was with…

“Yeah…Let’s hope our little medic can fix her up.” the woman behind you responds in a condescending tone, and ending it with a chuckle.

A gruffy laugh erupts from the man as he throws you over his shoulder which elicits you to groan. They were so rough and careless with you—With that action completed, they began to walk out of the dingy room and walk down a hallway. Your world was literally upside down, you tried to see what this new uncharted territory was, but the swelling around your eyes proved it to be difficult. Every once in a while, light would seep into view causing you to wince.

You don’t know how long you were lounged on this random man’s shoulder, but it’s the sudden halt in their movements that catches your attention. “Alright everyone, step back. New arrival coming through.” The woman announces.

But to whom?

You can’t even process what just happened until you’re on the rough concrete floor. The impact causes you to wheeze and turn on your back. The blinding light above begins to become fainter as the sound of multiple voices only increases the ache in your head.

But one is more prominent than the rest, “Oh my—Alright everyone—Stacy, grab anything we can use.” Her voice is strong and impactful and you begin to feel the softest hands grazing over your face, “Stay with me, sweetheart.” she directs towards you.

Such a sweet gentle voice, a voice you’d only hear from a mother soothing her offspring. It brought you comfort to the aches in your body. Only a little. You really tried to stay awake, obey what you were told to do, but soon darkness invaded your senses once again and everything went to muffled to silence.

Death is many things; Terrifying, Inevitable, Unpleasant, Unpredictable, Unbearable. But in this case for you, death felt right. The only way to stop this nightmare that you couldn’t seem to wake up from. The only way to move on, to become a form of energy in this universe, but a memory to some.

Jackson.

Your parents.

Ellie.

No, you didn’t want to leave. You couldn’t leave, not now! You’re not ready to go. Not when you have to get back to her, your lover. You couldn’t bear the thought of her living the rest of her life believing you’re dead. No, no, You wouldn’t, you couldn’t let it happen! You’ll do anything in your power to get to her, no matter the cost. So wake up.

Wake UP!

A sharp gasp leaves your throat stinging, you shoot up in bed, drenched in sweat. Every inhale you take, you feel the windpipe becoming more and more tight. You place your hand on your chest, and desperately try to breathe. It’s until you feel a hand on your back that snaps out of it.

“Breathe, Y/n. Breathe.” The familiar voice says.

No, It couldn’t be.

The drumming in your chest only becomes more erratic as you hesitate to look beside you. This can’t be real. Until you do and see the face you thought you’d never see again.

“E-ellie.” you stammer, tears forming at the waterline.

“Yeah, I’m here baby. Just breathe.” She says gently as she wipes your tears away, “You okay?”

You’re not…how?

“How…how are you real?“

She looks at you, confused, “Real? baby, you just had a bad dream.”

“No, no, This isn’t….no because in my dream—“

“We got separated.” she answers for you.

How the fuck?—Was that all just a nightmare? No, It felt so real. This couldn’t be the reality. You immediately look down at your arms, No scratches, no bruises. You let out a gasp upon seeing clear arms then look at Ellie who’s staring at you with a worried look.

“Y/n, calm down. you’re home, okay?” she says and touches your shoulder.

God, that touch felt so…real. You stare at her with tears forming once again, “Ellie?” you say shakily.

Ellie sees the look in your eyes and immediately pulls you into her arms, “I got you.” she says softly in your ear, pressing a kiss on your head.

You sigh, Everything about this felt wrong. Part of you was screaming to wake up. That this wasn’t real, This couldn’t be, but…another part of you felt peace. Peace, you’ve been searching for your whole life before you met Ellie. Being in her arms, you felt it like you did when you were.

You need want it to be real.

Ellie gives you a gentle squeeze, “Alright, try to get some rest.” she says, letting you go to let you lay down. And you do, lying down on your side. You stare at the girl in front of you as she begins to do the same. Once on her back, she catches you staring and smiles, turning on her side to face you as well.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know…I’m just scared.” you finally admit.

“Scared?”

“Scared…scared, I’ll wake up and you won’t be there.”

“Don’t fear that.” she says softly, moving a strand of hair away from your face and behind your ear. Her touch felt real, it brought more tears to your eyes. “You know that’s just your mind talking. Rest. I’ll be here in the morning, by your side.”

Her reassurance puts you at some ease, some, “Yeah, Okay.” you say quietly.

Your response makes Ellie to move closer to you and wrap her arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You happily embrace this familiar warmth. It always made you feel so safe, so comforted, so loved. As you feel yourself drift back into oblivion, a smile adorns your face.

You’re finally home.

The soft caresses that feather your face cause you to move away and groan in response. Ellie must’ve been drawing on your face! Oh you’re gonna fucking kill her—…What. Upon opening your eyes, you’re not in your girlfriend's infamous room, You’re not laying down on her comfy bed, No, you’re still in that nightmare. Opening your eyes, you see the same older woman sitting beside you with a cloth in hand.

You didn’t wake up with her by your side.

You try sitting up, but she immediately stops you, “Don’t move, dear.” She says gently, helping you lie down once again, “You'll strain something and we don’t want that.” she says with a smile, but god it felt so creepy to you. “The painkillers have already set in so you won’t feel any of the pain for now.”

“Painkillers…Where…where am I?” You lift your hand to rub your forehead with a groan.

“Yes—You’re in Cell B.”

“Cell B?”

“Yes, Cell B.” she confirms, “You went into shock after taking that fall, so just take it easy. Your body is still fragile.”

“What’s Cell B? Where the fuck am I?”

She settles down the cloth in the bowl beside her and sighs, “If you really wanna know where you’re at, you need to know who you’re gonna be dealing with.” She has this look in her eyes that makes you shudder, but you simply nod and let her continue.

“Well, These people; They’re slavers. They stalk and capture. Sometimes go for big communities and make them no more. They…my community had that same fate.” She says the last part quietly with a glance of sadness in her eyes.

Seeing the look that this woman portrayed enraged you. How could they do this to someone who seemed like an angel sent from god himself?! To anyone for that mattered! This wasn’t right, but it also held so many questions for you.

“And why the fuck hasn’t anyone tried to retaliate?” you said in a louder tone than anticipated.

The woman’s eyes widened and she immediately put a finger to your mouth, hushing you and looking around to see if anyone heard you. As if on cue, a guard came strolling by with a rifle in hand, seeming to be perimetering the area. Your intrusive voice only seems to cause the guard to glance inside the cell and a few people inside with the both of you to stir in their respective beds.

The woman above you seems visibly shaken, but is immediately relieved when the guard doesn’t pay much mind to your outburst. Setting her gaze onto you, her facade hardens slightly, “Don’t talk like that, those types of things get you killed around here.” She warns.

You gulp and nod as she removes her finger from your lips and looks around once again before speaking in a lower tone, “People have before, but they’ve all perished or worse.”

“So….there's no way...outta here?” you say, feeling all of your hope slowly dwindling.

“Yes, but it’s almost impossible. Only way to “escape” is to fight, but everyone here is terrified of standing up against these people.”

“So we encourage them! You said it yourself, it’s almost impossible, but not impossible.” you whisper-yell, “You seriously can’t see yourself living here for the rest of your life!”

“Of course I don’t” she sighs and with her tone softening before she continues, “I have no other choice, dear. I’m getting old and my knees don’t go how they used to anymore. My chances are dismal. So I just follow the orders and avoid getting punishments.”

“Then I'll do something about it. You won’t be—“

“No.” she says sternly, “You don’t even know what you’re up against and with the state you’re in…you’ll die.”

You let out a breath, you didn’t know you were holding. She was right, and you knew it. You couldn't do anything in the condition you’re in, you’d be killed on the spot. So you had to wait. Wait for how long? You don’t even know, but you won’t rush it. Patience brings success—or some shit like that, meet the right people and resources. But for now you need to get your strength up.

“Hurry the fuck up and pass it before they catch us!” Ashley warns with a quiet giggle.

You exhale with a chuckle and pass the stick over to her, “Shut up, you’re just being paranoid.”

She scoffs, “Me, paranoid?”

“Yes, you.” you reply with a smile, watching her inhale then exhale a few seconds after, “How many times have we smoked back here and gotten caught?” you say with a cocky tone as you grab it and bring to your lips.

You watch her huff in defeat, “None…” she mumbles.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, suck my dick.” she responds with an eye roll, taking and bringing it up to her lips. “We should get back anyway, stupid ass Tammy might wonder where we’re at.”

You cross your arms and sigh, “Yeah, I don't need her squeaking in my ear.” you remark with a chuckle.

Your comment eclits a laugh out of Ashley as she throws the joint on the ground and stomps on it with her foot, coating dirt over it as if it never happened.

“Right, let’s go.” she says, beginning to walk back to the others.

It had been a year and half since the whole incident went down. And life since you’ve healed from your injuries hasn't been great. Immediately after you were cleared for work, you were put on the job. It wasn’t light work to get you used to it, No. It was rough, blazing sun hot work.

Forced to work in insalubrious conditions with others plucking various fruits and vegetables. It was the same greenery that would be poorly rationed to you and those around you. Rationing it as if they didn’t have an endless supply of it, just sitting in their pantry. It was one of the many cruel acts these people did.

But you had to consider yourself fortunate, lucky even. That you haven’t gotten a punishment like those unlucky few. Because every single time they'd blow that “death horn” as you called it. You knew someone was either gonna be dead or left to die, bleeding out.

It was a sick guessing game.

And everytime someone initiated that heart dropping tune, a shudder would run down your spine. But what was strange about it was that everyone knew what to do without even being instructed too. Like machines, everyone would drop everything they were doing and make their way to the courtyard.

As if it put them under a trance.

You remembered the first time you heard it. Just after you dropped the last apple into your basket. That twisted melody aired through the establishment causing you to freeze in fear. The ambience of everyone’s demeanor changed from lighthearted to stoic in a blink. It was terrifying to see it without context. But now knowing the meaning behind it, you understood why they acted that way.

You weren’t gonna lie, seeing people die so savagely, it scared you. Made you lose hope of actually trying and planning an escape. You could see it in everyone's eyes; despair and hopeless. And you were starting to get that mentality too.

Hopeless.

Mallory was the only hope you truly had. Just seeing her every single day after a long and rough day working in fields brought a smile to your lips, even if you had no reason to smile that day. She didn’t just earn that title, “medic” she owned it. She taught you the ropes of basic and advanced medical care.

It wasn’t the lessons you loved—well of course you loved it, but you loved hearing the woman talk about her past and dreams as a child. You never knew why, but every conversation you had with her felt like a mother and daughter bonding over fresh cookies, they baked together.

You loved her.

You want better for her.

You knew she wouldn’t get it here—no…with the way they treat her.

It’s impossible for her to live a peaceful life for when she grew too old and can’t move around without complaining about joint pain.

Because the truth was, she was getting older. Time wasn’t stopping for her. And you could see it. And you’d be lying out of your ass if you didn’t say you were worried about her. The endless nights of caring for wounded people, was taking a toll on the old woman's body.

That sweet old altruistic woman who nursed you back to health and still does. Scolding you like a little girl who tripped over a rock from being unaware of her surroundings. But you knew she loved and worried about you—all the time.

Parents say they know everything about their child, and in this case. She definitely knew something was up when you started to act weird. Suspicious.

But of course, she never questioned you—mostly because she thought you were grieving. And she’s never questioned the way you grieved—even if your ways of grieving could get you killed or worse.

Now why were you grieving? Omid, it’s one of the biggest burdens you’ll ever have to carry. He was one of your closest friends. One out of the many people you knew, you could truly trust. He was actually one of the people you confided in with your ideas of escaping.

And he encouraged you.

He told you, he’d help you for as long as he could because he had an advance. An advance, so little had, but honestly so many that people wouldn’t want to have. He was Liana’s personal maid, or pushover. He would take you the amount of bullying he’d take from her and her fucking goons.

And he was such a good person, he didn’t deserve any of it.

None of it.

Liana would threaten to kill him in brutal ways in front of everyone if he fucked up—even if it was the little mistake. And of course it was all talk—never bite. Until she did bite, and hard. Hearing from friends, you heard that Omid was tripped on purpose by one of Liana’s members while holding a tray of drinks during a meeting. Spilling all the drinks over Lianas fresh plans for future establishment builds.

It wasn’t pretty finding his body, strung up like a pig, gutted. It broke you, left you in a depressive, guilt trip state. Because you weren’t quick enough. He gave all the information he could find on layouts, patrol routes and more. But you were slow, it was hard finding people who were brave enough to help.

And now your lack of being effective payed it’s price.

Now, you sat in front of his makeshift grave that everyone pitched in to make, watching the dirt falling from your hand as you continuously kept playing with it.

Should’ve been me, not you..

I was slow..

I’m so sorry…

You. Should’ve been, you. Staring at the ground, unable to stare at your friend, even now in death. Your mind is tormenting you for being incompetent. Wiping a tear away, you get up from your kneeling position and finally look at your friend's grave—for the last time.

“I’m sorry, O-Omid.” you say quietly.

It was a mistake that wouldn’t be made again. Because walking away, you leave with a sense of determination—and maybe honor, too. You were gonna escape this fucking nightmare in honor for him. Because the truth is you were scared of losing everyone you loved and being alone.

And that was happening—slowly.

You couldn’t cower in a corner in hopes of a person with more bravery to rise and lead you to freedom because the truth was everyone was just as terrified as you.

So, You had to.

And the following months to now, have been twisted to worse to good. You manage to sum up a large number of people to join. Thanks to the help of a black sheep. Or to be less cryptic—a traitor.

Ada, a rat willing to ruin everything that benefits her, seemed fishy. Because why would a slaver ever think to help you? It smelled like hardcore bullshit—at least at first. Because when she pulled you to the side and began begging you to reconsider—made you feel indifferent.

But it shocked you how alike the two of you were, both what did whatever the two of you needed to do, to survive. Just that she joined a cause that wasn't a good one. She hated every single time that happened to these innocent people, but pretended to be okay with it for the benefits that came with being a soldier.

And now having someone from the enemy side on yours was one of the best things to happen to you, from Omid and Ada’s little hideout she found, it made the process much easier.

From mapping areas to keep stolen supplies, to finding weak spots on the high walls surrounding the facility, to locations after the operation of “Where to go if separated.” You had everything set into motion. Expect one thing, getting Mallory out of here, and agreeing to everything—or some of it. Whether you had to drag her out of here, you’ll be getting her out of here.

She was the only thing that was holding you back.

“Look, I know, this is gonna be hard to understand sigh but—please just hear me out, okay?—Fuck ughh” you groan, running a hand through your hair. You’ve been standing in front of a mirror for minutes—which felt like hours, just rehearsing what you’ll say to Mallory. And every single approach you try to go through with, you couldn’t see the outcome. It felt useless, you went through every sentence starter in your book!

“Still working on what'll you say to Mal?” a voice interrupts your daily rehearsal.

You huff and look back to see Ada who’s walking through the door, “Yeah…”

A laugh flows through the girl's windpipe, “Why don’t you just tell her?—without all this rehearsal bullshit.”

You roll your eyes and face the mirror once again, “Because you don’t know her like I do—She's gonna freak out if I just say; Oh hey, Ima gonna be doing the one thing that you warned me not to do!” you say sarcastically.

“Yeouch…” She breathes out, sitting down and contorting her body forward, looking down at the carefully configured plans.

You sigh in defeat, deciding to try again later, and walk over to Ada to view the plans as well, “Anything new?”

Ada shakes her head, “Nope, but the lady boss is losing her shit over the dropping percentage in food..”

A smile blooms on your lips, “Alright, well, I think we should be set then. I just have to tell Mallory and we’re good!”

Ada just nods in response—weird, “What? You’re not excited to be leaving this shit hole?” You inquired.

“Of course I’m ready to leave this place—just..when?”

You try laughing it off, “What do you mean, ‘when’?”

“I mean when are you gonna tell Mallory?” she restates bluntly, her gaze turned to set on you firmly, “Because it seems like we’ll never leave with the way things are going.”

You’re stunned as you look at the girl below you as she continues, “You tell her today or tomorrow or—“

“or what?” You interrupt, becoming defensive, “you’re gonna leave me?” you accuse.

Your accusation leaves Ada speechless for just a moment before arguing back, “No, I wouldn’t leave you. I’m talking about leaving Mallory behind if it comes to that. We can’t save everyone—“

“Oh fuck you, I’m not leaving Mallory behind! She deserves a shot at a better life!” You remark.

“And the others don’t?” She emphasizes, standing up from her chair, “—‘cause it seems like you've only cared about yourself more than the people around, depending on you.”

You felt every word hit your gut one by one because she was right, you were being selfish. Only thinking about Mallory and not the hundred lives at stake. You’ve been careless as of lately, wasting time and for what?—because you were scared? You’d be the reason if this whole operation doesn't go according to plan.

But you never could think rationally when angry, if it wasn’t you that got yourself in trouble, it was always your big mouth that did.

Just never know when to shut up, do you?

“Right because it’s totally not your fault why I’m here.” you chide sarcastically while pointing your finger in her face condescendingly. The look Ada relays when those words leave your mouth sends waves of guilt throughout your body. Staring at the woman’s expression in front morphe from anger to disbelief in the matter of seconds.

“Fuck you.” She spits out before walking past you and out the door.

You sigh upon hearing the door slam, soaking into your overwhelming guilt. What went through your head to think that was right to say? Oh right—none. You throw yourself onto the now vacant chair. Your head goes slack and is only caught by the palm of your hand.

You stay in this position trying to justify why you say that. You could blame it on sleep, but who the fuck says that? On what?—Two hours?—Three? Shit..when was the last time your head hit a pillow?

With a sigh, you get up from the chair and begin to look over the written plans. Instead of worrying about your recent actions. With every minute passing, you start feeling the fatigue finally catching up with you. Take a break, you deserve it—right? Despite the opposing side of your conscious saying otherwise, you stand up and pace around the room to stretch your aching muscles.

Waddling around the room like a chicken with its head cut off, you stop in front of the mirror once more and just stare at yourself. What’s wrong with you? You feel that guilt creeping up and looming over your shoulder as you stare at yourself. Scrutinizing what’s more prominent to you; the scar on your cheek, the rough and dry spots on your skin, the recent bruise you got as a warning, scaling up and off your imperfections and landing on your hair.

You never really took it into consideration, but your hair was a hazard. Pulling open the drawer, you see the solution to said concern. Scissors. Without any hesitation, you pick them and cut a large portion of your hair. You watch in the mirror as the hair cascades down and on the floor. You don’t stare for long and cut until there’s nothing left to cut.

Hair grows back anyway—it’s no biggie, you continue to repeat over and over in your head as you stare at your reflection. Setting the scissors down, you brush any stray hairs off of you when you hear it. That bone chilling sound—or “The death horn” as you call it, blares throughout the building and through the walls into your eardrums. You wince upon hearing that deafening sound that pumps fear through your veins.

Who is it this time?

In a blink, you’re gone and flying down the winding hallway to the courtyard.

Ada?

Tears blind your sight as you rush towards the end of the hallway and make a sharp right turn.

Mallory?

You make it to your heart-wrenching destination and are met with a crowd surrounding the podium where there’s five people standing on it, whom you immediately recognize—well at least the first three. The leader's voice, Liana, is more prominent as she speaks to the vibrant crowd. And the two behind her on each side are guards, but the last two aren’t identifiable, only seeing the top layout of their heads as the crowds block the rest of their body. You have—No, need to know who the last two are.

They have to be okay—it can’t be them!

Your body is tense with anticipation of finding out as you rush towards the crowd, pushing your way through. The crowds’ voices only intensify the momentum in you. Just as you see an opening to the front and try to make a move for it, you’re hindered from doing so when a hand wraps around your forearm.

The grip is strong and pauses any planned sudden movement which elicits you to glance back at the person. It’s Ashley, her facial expressions covered in worry as she stares at you with tears rolling down her cheeks, “Don't go—Y/n stay here please!” she begs.

Her pleads only feed into your curiosity, Stay?—No, you can’t stay!—oh but you can—“Ashley, let me go!” you began to try to loosen your arm from her grip, but to no avail. Your struggles only are met with Ashley tightening her grip, “No! I won't let you see—Please!” she begs once more.

All her desperate attempts to make you stay are futile, because with one harsh pull, you're released from her grip and stumble back. A bystander catches you before you can truly fall on the ground and once on your feet, you run. Run as fast as you can from Ashley—your protruding thoughts to stay with her. To not look at what lies before you.

Until you do, and god did you wish, this was just a bad figment that your brain made up. That you’d wake up in the comforts of your dirty mattress beside—Mallory. She’s one of the final pieces to the stressful puzzle, a damaged puzzle piece. She’s on her knees, Hands bound behind her back, and blind folded. And beside her is the final puzzle piece—the final nail in your coffin.

Ada, she’s in the same position as Mallory, but not badly beaten as her. Her lip tremors in fear as the woman behind both of them continues to speak, “These two have been selfish and are a danger to our thriving community here.” What?—No…,”Therefore, they need to be dealt with accordingly.” This statement only riles up the crowd and you, “N-no! Mallory! Ada! No, no, please!” You try to proceed forward, but stopped once again when arms wrap over your body.

It’s Ashley's voice that can be heard behind you telling you to stop and how you’re gonna get yourself hurt or worse going up there. But you don’t care—No…not when the two people you let back into your heart are gonna perish in front of you—No, you need to do something—Anything!

“Get the fuck off of me!” you scream, thrashing around her arms.

You try and try but to no avail—you’re not successful. You watch the gun in Liana's hand aim towards the back of Mallory’s head. And with every amount of breath in you—you scream out “no” just maybe…it’ll do something.

“Please, no!” You cry out, but at that moment everything is in slow motion for you. You watch as with no hesitation from the carrier, the gun fires and the bullet goes flying. Your body feels weak—unable to look or stand anymore so you fall on your knees letting out guttural sobs as you hear the sound of her body dropping to the ground and losing all its vitality.

As quick as life came, so did it go.

You couldn’t feel or hear anything—nothing. Not the voice of Ashley or her actions of trying to get you up again—nothing. Well actually…you did feel one thing; Anger. The feeling of it coursing through your veins, but wait…Ada! No, not again! You can’t lose her too—

The sound of a gunshot pierces your eardrums and plays havoc into your trance instantly. The familiar thud of another body falling on the ground causes the crowd behind you to lose all control and sets fear into you.

Who is it this time?

Please look at these links for palestine!! — How you can help Palestine, Why you shouldn’t support tlou/ buy the remastered, Educate yourself, #FREEPALESTINE. Please look at them, if you could read this entire fic, you can take a few moments to learn and support palestine!

a/n; Woah what a journey it was from January 8th to now, and I wouldn’t change any of it. I genuinely wanna thank and send love to everyone who send nothing but love and support, you are the highlight. I am so sorry it took me so long so long to post another chapter, but holy shit we are! As always, thank you sydney and ami for being here to listen to me yap because holy fuck, there were many scenarios that were cut and left it and blah blah. I don’t wanna yap for so long because it is currently four in the fucking morning where I live and I need to go to sleep 😭 BUT I’d like to thank you as always for reading and showing me unconditional love and support. Thank you and I truly appreciate it. So with that out the way, MAKE SURE TO LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE SO YOU NEVER EVER MISS A BANGER FROM MEEE 💯💯💯💯‼️‼️‼️🔥🔥🔥

SIDE NOTE: I couldn’t add a few people SORRYYYY!!!

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b1rds3ye · 8 months

Note

Hi! Hello! I'm not sure if I can make a request, but if I can here's my request!

Can you do an LED mask reader who has a workshop underneath the base that the 141 doesn't know about (except Price, he approved it he just didn't tell the others, he didn't tell Shepherd too)

And when someone breaks something (like a gadget) they tell them to come to their workshop so they can fix it

It's okay if you don't do this! I just really like the idea :)

YES YES YES PLS THIS IS SO CUTE!! (Also PLEASE don't be afraid to invade my askbox, it's always open for brainrot, requests and the such~) Unfortunately I couldn't really incorporate the mask into this, just reader being a lil gremlin I hope that's okay 😭

The base has bunkers in case of an emergency and evacuation, but there are some passages and dead-ends that have become completely neglected. Price doesn't know how the hell you caught wind of those abandoned rooms but with his authority combined with Laswell's, they manage to allocate a space for you without the knowledge of any stuffy generals like Shepherd.

While it takes some months until anyone else in the 141 is invited to your underground workshop, they do know something is up. One minute you're around and then the next you've disappeared and unreachable (the first few weeks when you cleaned up the bunkers there was absolutely no signal underground). However they had enough faith in you and Price's lack of concern was signal enough to calm down.

It was only when Soap had come back from a mission, he could only groan in despair at his battered hardware. He's normally a clean demolitions expert, but a mission going south quicker than he could blink meant that his typical tools had succumbed to the explosions he set off. Unable to say no to Johnny's pout as he looked around at everyone like a kicked puppy, you eventually give him a reassuring pat on the back.

"See me downstairs, I'll fix it."

... what?

Johnny - as well as Gaz and Ghost who watched the exchange - just stare at you silently as you walk away. Downstairs? You mean the run down evacuation tunnels that are so run down and poorly maintained they're probably more of a death trap than whatever could be up above? But sure enough, you walk in the direction to one of the known entrances to the bunkers and they hastily chase after you (Price also following a little behind because he just knows this is going to be entertaining).

When they find you downstairs, even Price is in awe of what you've done with the place. It's filled with various forms of high-end tech. An impressive blend of both software running automatically on clean screens and gritty hardware that's sprawled across various workbenches and occasionally forgotten on the ground. There's only a singular hanging light at the center of the ceiling, but with a fresh bulb and the ambient light of all your other technology, the place is lit more than enough.

"Bloody hell..." Kyle pulls away from the rest of the 141 and joins you, his eyes following the curves and dips of a nearby piece of machinery he has never seen before but the general shape has him half convinced it's a bloody bomb.

"Like what you see?" You turn to the rest of the task force. You can't stop yourself from straightening your back in pride as the boys were clearly in awe of your handiwork.

"You were hiding this from us?" Simon asks. His voice always has a bite but you could tell that he was just stupefied, his question not just directed to you as he shoots a look to Price who stifles a smug smirk.

"We had some spare space," Price explains. "Thought it could use the renovation."

"Renovation? You rebuilt this from the ground up," Johnny exclaims, taking in the room as if it was a hidden hoard of treasures.

"Say, you'd let us pay you a visit down here, yeah?" Kyle turns back to you, eyes gleaming. The rest of the task force join in their own way. Johnny's nodding enthusiastically, John cocks an eyebrow at you, and even Simon tilts his head in curiosity, waiting for your next words.

"Hm..." you look away, bringing a finger to your chin and tapping it in contemplation. Eventually you let out a huff as you snatch Johnny's broken gear from his hands and start shooing them out. "I'll have to think about it. I'll get back to you in five to seven business days."

Johnny starts animatedly protesting but lets himself be pushed by you out of the door. Kyle laughs while Price hushes them all. Below all the commotion was an underlying understanding and agreement. You don't even need to say it aloud but they'll all certainly be crashing at your underground workshop and they were more than welcome to. In truth, as much as you loved having your private workshop, the only thing that could make it better was entrusting it with the dearest people in your lives.

Call of Duty Masterlist

#call of duty x reader #cod x reader #task force 141 x reader #call of duty #john price x reader #captain price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #/*avery actually writes*/#/*avery checks the mailbox*/

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mindisrotting · 2 months

Text

𝐈𝐓’𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎 | simon "ghost" riley

tags | wife!reader, parenthood, a little angst, fluff, mentions of murder, not proofread (sorry for any mistakes)

special thanks to @athanasialove for inspiring this little fic <3

Imagine Simon Riley, who sometimes before going to bed thinks about the things he went through. He found friends, and he found love, unconditional love, but he will never forget what Roba put him through, all that torture and grief of having to see his lifeless family on the floor of his home.

He's become a tough guy, a ghost, but he still has feelings and emotions. Sometimes he feels paranoid, the thought that in some corner of this cruel world there's someone who wants to cause him pain by hurting those he loved, his wife and precious kids, won't leave his mind. They're his reason to live, to survive, to give the best of himself. His little family will always be the light at the end of this dark tunnel. So no matter how much he wants to brag about them—to tell his squad about the perfect goal his son scored on his last football match or how his daughter recently learned how to read, and now she will read every word she sees aloud—he's terrified. Until Task Force 141 is coming back from a mission that ended with him getting shot twice. The surgeon had told him that he got lucky, if the second bullet had perforated a few centimeters more up, he would be in a body bag instead of laying on a hospital bed.

When you picked up a phone call from an unknown number, the last thing you expected to hear was your husband shaky’s voice. With tears in your eyes, you listened as he told you everything. Even though that wasn't the first time he's got hurt on the job, it was the first time he did since growing his own family, and it unlocked a new fear he never experienced before. He never wanted to leave you, not like this. When he asked you to do something, he wasn't thinking about the enemies he's made in all his years of service, he wasn't thinking about everyone seeing them in broad daylight.

When the military plane landed, and everyone got out to reunite with whoever was waiting for them to come home, everyone assumed Ghost would just say goodbye to Johnny and be on his way alone. But he went down the aircraft steps rapidly, because in the distance, he saw two little people running towards him with an older person walking behind them. He got down in one knee and opened his arms, waiting to feel the impact. When it did, he cried—the last time he shed any tears was when his daughter was born at only 28 weeks, she was so fragile and small, but she was a survivor—feeling the warm hug of his seven and four-year-old, it was the best feeling in the universe having two tiny humans yell “Daddy!” at the tops of their lungs and saying how much they missed him. Johnny was bewildered, because he never knew those people existed. He looked at Price but he was just as shocked, he looked away knowing it wasn't his business. Then came you, his beautiful wife of nine years, the mother of his children, his bridge, his strength, his everything. You, too, cried as you hugged him, knowing that he’s home safe and well. You stayed like that for longer than normal because Simon refused to let go of you.

When he was laying in the bed of his cold hospital room, he knew he needed to see you as soon as possible. He couldn't wait for the aircraft to land at base and then take another flight and drive an hour to his home in the countryside of England. He begged you to go with the kids to the base, and without hesitation you agreed, knowing this is what he needed.

He unwrapped his arms from you and took your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs while his kids stood patiently. Then, your gaze directed from his brown eyes to the man standing looking at the scene, you motioned to Simon to turn around. He told you who the man was and crouched down to meet his kids’ eyes.

“wanna meet uncle Johnny?”

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #ghost cod

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mcntsee · 2 months

Text

— ★ trojan horse.

↳ summary: Task force has finally tracked Makarov down to London.

↳ warnings: Not proof read. Violence, blood, description of injuries, death(s), weapons, language, mentions of smoking, some suggestive content but nothing explicit. Slight ooc Ghost and one use of “y/n”.

↳ note: Reader’s call sign is “Zero”.

↳ author’s note: I refuse to let Soap die. In my mind, he is alive and happy, so that’s what I am doing. While writing this I really liked it, then I didn’t, then I did and now I’m not sure.

“Smokin’, Johnny?” Ghost’s gravelly, low tone resonated in her ears, breaking her concentration, her heart skipping a beat at the unexpected interruption, her grip tightening on the rifle. “Blending in, L.T."

Despite the tension of the mission, a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “If ya say so..”

Zero allowed her gaze to glide through the sniper scope, tracing the scene where Soap stood, cigarette in hand, while Gaz extended a lighter to ignite Soap's smoke.

A gentle crackle emanated from the earpiece nestled snugly in her ear, a precursor to Price’s voice that followed soon after, “Zero, how copy?"

“Go ahead."

“Status on the target?"

She let her gaze return to the target, leaving the image of Soap smoking behind, before responding, “Seems our mate’s on the move. Finish up that smoke and get movin’."

Her eyes tracked the target's movements, ready to advise Soap to wait and blend in when the target stopped to tie her shoes. However, before she could speak, Ghost's voice crackled through the comms once more. “Wait. She's tyin' 'er shoe, likely checkin' if she's bein' followed.”

Zero’s gaze swiftly scanned the surroundings, her sharp eyes catching sight of a dog nearby. "Cute dog, eh, Soap?" she remarked over the comms, watching as Soap leaned down to pet the dog, his praises flowing as he stroked its fur.

Before long, the target resumed her movement, with Soap's careful steps tracing behind her, before coming to a complete stop by the kiosk, eavesdropping on her conversation.

“She made a dead drop for a buyer. Flash drive. Alley between Bistro 43 and Tea Cafe."

As soon as those words left his mouth, Zero sprang into action, swift steps descending from the building's rooftop as she made her way to the CCTV room.

"No sign of Konni. Must've already left.” Ghost's voice greeted her as she opened the room's door, his eyes glued to the screen in front of him and his back turned toward her. “Good. Scrub the footage for anyone leaving the alley, 0–7."

She approached him slowly, her steps light so as not to distract him. Once within arm's reach, she gently placed a hand on his shoulder, massaging the knots she found there until the image on the screen caught her attention.

"There," she said, her finger extending as she leaned forward and pointed at the Konni. With a quick nod from Ghost, his voice graced her ears again, "Found ‘im."

Their eyes tracked the figure on the screen until eventually he disappeared into the tunnel, and they lost visual.

They exchanged a knowing glance, the voices of their teammates fading into the background as they locked eyes with each other. Carefully, she reached up, cutting off her mic in an attempt to have a private conversation with her lieutenant, who mirrored her actions soon after. "You reckon we found 'im?"

His hand came up to caress her cheek. "I would 'ope so, love," he said. The sound of one of his knees cracking in protest as he stood up reached her ears, and she couldn’t contain the teasing smile that crept onto her face as her eyes followed his movements. “Gettin’ rusty, L.T.?”

He let out a quiet chuckle, the sound bringing her the same comfort it always did, as his other hand, too, came up to gently cupped her face, his eyes meeting hers with warmth. “Be careful, eh?"

“Is that an order, L.T?"

“No, it’s a sincere plea, love.”

At that, her eyes softened at the edges, an almost imperceptible blush gracing her cheeks beneath his hands. "How could I ever say no to that?" she whispered, her voice as soft as always. "Mind yourself as well, yeah?"

A soft “‘Course, love.” slipped from his covered lips as he drew her closer. One arm tenderly enveloped her figure, while the other gently cradled the back of her head, guiding it closer to his chest. With a tender gesture, he pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head before slowly letting go and walking out of the room.

Soon, she found herself at the entrance of the west side of the tunnel, the voices of her squad members reaching her ears once again, each one confirming their entrance into the tunnel. “Zero?”

Her eyes quickly met Viper's, and with a swift nod, he lifted the bolt cutter, severing the chain that had previously secured the door. As soon as her group stepped foot inside and scanned the surroundings, her hand instinctively reached up to her vest, finding the microphone's button. With a decisive press, she answered, "Tunnel breached; we're inside and movin'."

Acquiring the USB from the Konni buyer had been a straightforward task. However, she harbored doubts that this would be just as effortless.

Her thoughts were interrupted as faint voices filled her ears—voices she didn’t recognize—and she swiftly signaled to her team with a closed fist raised high, halting their movements. Her head subtly tilting to the side as she strains to pinpoint the source of the unfamiliar voices. She gradually lowered her hand, extending her palm downward and making a sweeping motion from side to side, silently instructing them to spread out and move in different directions.

As the team scattered in different directions, she motioned with her head to Viper to follow her, extending two fingers out and gesturing for them to move forward to the train rails.

As they approached the train rails, the distant murmur of voices grew louder. Silently moving into position behind a stack of crates, they made eye contact, Viper's hand coming up, letting her know that there were five enemies ahead of them.

Her mind raced, gears turning faster as she formulated a plan of action. Quickly peeking over, she spotted two of the Konni sitting side by side, and a smile graced her lips. Meeting Viper’s eyes again, her hand went up with three fingers extended before pointing at herself, indicating that she would take out three of the enemies.

After his confirmation, she made a fist, holding it up in the air, before swiftly lowering it towards the ground, sending a nod in her teammate's direction.

She positioned her gun on top of the crate that was keeping her hidden. With a fluid motion, she closed one eye, the world narrowing to a tunnel of focus through the scope. Her heartbeat steadied, synchronizing with the rhythm of her breath. In the silence before the shot, she felt a calm resolve wash over her, every movement deliberate, every sense heightened.

With her finger poised delicately over the trigger, she took one final breath, then squeezed. The sharp crack of the bullet slicing through the air shattered the silence; the only sound that followed was the thud of two bodies hitting the ground.

Soon, the only remnants were the sight of five lifeless bodies sprawled on the ground, “Clear.”

Her earpiece crackled to life, static filling the airwaves before a distorted voice emerged, blending with the interference, “Six -o Watch—.., train clear. -vancing to Cross-..."

Frowning slightly, she quickly checked her equipment, ensuring that her radio was securely connected and powered on. “A-.. This is-, taking eff-… Konni has -stages.” Despite her efforts, the interference persisted, obscuring the clarity of the transmission. “Zero to Watcher, requestin’ a comms check."

She waited for a second, then two. “Ghost, do you read? I need to sync up for a clearer line.” Static was the only sound she heard as she adjusted the frequency settings on her radio, hoping to alleviate the issue, but to no avail.

With a sigh, she turned to her team. “Comms are compromised. Looks like there’s a jammer nearby.” Her eyes scanned the area, looking for any sign of the ruggedized electronic device with antennas protruding from the top. “We proceed with the plan. Keep tight.”

The signal wasn't ideal, but she considered herself fortunate. Despite the interference, she could decipher most of the messages coming through the comms and discern who was speaking based on the sound of their voice, which had proven helpful as she and her team pressed forward. “Th-.. karov’s last kn-.. position, Six— tay sharp.”

Sweat coated her entire body, exhaustion setting in as adrenaline surged through her veins. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, and her breathing became more difficult to control. “Bloody hell, this place is packed with Konni."

The world around her faded away, her peripheral vision narrowing until all that remained was the crosshairs of her scope and the distant figure in her sights. The sounds of gunfire and chaos around her became distant echoes as she honed in on her objective with laser-like precision. “G’night, arsehole."

Her eyes followed the limp body of the enemy crumpling to the ground, and soon, the cacophony of battle rushed back to her ears. The distant roar of gunfire, the shouts of "Clear!" and the whirr of machinery somewhere farther down the tunnel. The weight of her rifle in her hands, the cool metal pressing against her hot cheek, the gentle sway of her body as she shifted her stance. Her vision began to expand, the edges of her sightline gradually widening to take in the full scope of her surroundings.

The closer they got to the crossover, the clearer the voices in her ear became. “—host, Ze-ro, Gaz-, tro—… tact- your position?” The static wasn’t as loud as before, but the messages kept cutting off intermittently.

She held her hand up, signaling to her team to stop, while she strained to understand what was being said. “Push-ing up the tra-… nnel. Got wounded-.. ans,” Ghost's voice crackled through, soon followed by Gaz's. “No s-..tage… hostages, eit-her…” A relieved sigh escaped her lips, tension dissipating from her body.

She reached for the microphone's button, pressing it as she breathlessly announced, “Almost at the crossover.” and then released the button as soon as she was done, lowering her other hand. Her feet carried her forward, footsteps following close behind her.

"Zer- what-… osito-?" Price's voice asked again, the tone growing louder with each word. She reached for the button again, but before she had a chance to press it, she was harshly shoved to the ground.

Her body tensed up, her hand instinctively reaching for the knife secured in the sheath on her thigh. “Zero, ho- copy?”, echoed through her earpiece. Before she could grab the knife, the same body that had shoved her pulled her behind a crumbled wall. Viper’s eyes met her wide ones, just as the sound of the turret mechanical gears rotating reached their ears. “Zer-, check in! ar- you al—ight?”

Her hand instinctively patted her belt, searching for the reassuring shape of the grenade nestled among her other gear. With each frantic pat, her heart pounded in her chest until her fingers traced the familiar contours of the grenade’s casing, feeling the cold, smooth metal beneath her touch.

The weight of the grenade in her palm grounded her, its textured surface offering a reassuring grip as she tugged it off her belt. "Fo—uck's sake, …-ero!”, With one quick glance over the wall, she localized the turret’s position.

Her grip tightened around the grenade, and in a swift motion, she pulled the safety pin and tossed the grenade toward the turret's location. Following the explosion, she heard someone yell, “Turret down!” followed by a tired "clear."

She stood up, flicking the grenade's safety pin to the side, and offered Viper her hand. As soon as he took it, she pulled him up to his feet. “This is Zero; we're nearly at the crossover."

A wave of relief washed over her as her earpiece crackled to life with Ghost’s voice, “Say aga-in, you—.. unreadable.” She repeated her words deliberately, ensuring clarity without risking detection by any nearby enemies. “Nearly at the crossover, L.T.”

A quick "Rog-" was all that she needed to hear for her shoulders to relax from their tense posture. Slowly, her hand rose to wipe at her sweaty forehead, the dirt on it smudging over her face. As her team began to move, her other hand swiftly reached out, grasping Viper’s wrist and bringing his progress to a halt. “Thank you, Harry."

His head slowly turned to her, a tired smile gracing his cracked lips. “Always, y/n."

“We’re pinned down, Cap! Konni’s blockin’ the tunnels.” The soft static that had accompanied her ear through the entire ordeal finally ceased, leaving only clear voices without interruption. “0-7 to Six—We're punchin’ through now!” She would've smiled at the improvement, but by now, with her teammates in sight and no longer reliant on the earpiece to hear two of them, she found its absence more of an annoyance than a relief.

"Get 'ere!” With quickened steps, she made her way to where Soap and Price were crouching by the bomb, her team following closely behind. They split into two sections, with three members staying behind to cover their backs while the other two moved forward alongside her.

"Red wire, got it," was the last thing she heard them say before her heart sank. With a surge of adrenaline, she broke into a sprint, her breath ragged and sweat streaming down her face. "Soap!" she screamed, but her words were cut short by the echoing shots that reverberated through the tunnel that was now littered with lifeless bodies.

Despite the impossibility, her pace quickened even more, her hand instinctively reaching up to open her microphone. "Backup is needed now!” her voice hoarse and breathless, with each word punctuated by the rhythm of her footfalls.

The desperate voices of Ghost and Gaz filled her ear with questions and status updates, but only one voice was clear. “Never bury your enemies alive."

Her thoughts raced as fast as her feet, and prayers to whoever would listen were sent as she pleaded for just two more seconds to reach them.

For a moment, relief washed over her as she saw Johnny stand up and strike the back of Makarov’s head. She almost paused in her running, but as quickly as the relief came, it vanished again when Soap’s arm was twisted and his body pushed forward.

The two seconds she had desperately wished for were granted, and not a moment later, she was running behind Makarov, watching him push Price back to the floor with his foot and aim his gun at Soap’s head.

Without hesitation, she rammed her body against his back, pushing him forward as the gun he was holding went off. “Soap!” Her breath caught in her throat as she glanced over at Johnny.

On his knees, Johnny held the left side of his head with one hand, the other planted on the floor to support his weight as he leaned forward. He was alive.

As if jolted back to reality, she quickly turned her head back to face Makarov, her hand reaching back to draw her gun.

“No!”

Time slowed to a crawl, and suddenly, her ears were ringing with a high-pitched whine, drowning out the cacophony of gunfire and shouts around her. Each sound seemed muffled and distant, as if she were submerged underwater.

The metallic tang of blood flooded her mouth, coating her tongue with a bitter, coppery taste that made her gag. Dizziness washed over her in waves, threatening to send her tumbling to the ground. She fought to maintain her footing, but she couldn’t remember the moment her legs gave out.

She could feel the cold sweat trickling down her spine, mingling with the warmth of her own blood. A searing heat radiated from somewhere on her neck, spreading like wildfire through her veins. Throbbing with each heartbeat.

Hands pulled at her vest, maneuvering her onto her back. The numb feeling of pressure being applied to her neck was almost lost on her until another hand gently tapped her cheek and the one on her neck left for a second.

She could barely hear her name being called as she forced her eyes to focus on the figures crouching by the bomb. Her thoughts raced in multiple directions, only coming to a halt when they landed on Soap. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny—

“Jo- John-“ Her voice sounded so strange, gurgling on blood as she fought to formulate a coherent sentence. “J-Johnn-y. Whe-"

"He's alright, love. He's alright." The tension left her body. He's alright, he's alright, he's alright, said the familiar voice in her head. Only then did she realize whose hands were stroking her cheek, the gentle motion bringing memories of that same afternoon flooding back.

"Si- Simon." Her voice, though quiet, carried a gentle tone that almost drowned out amid the shouts for medics that surrounded them, but he heard.

He heard, and his heart shattered at the haunting resemblance to her voice in the early morning or the late nights they spent entwined in bedsheets. Lost in each other’s eyes, hands roaming each other’s bodies between pants and pleas.

Their low whispers as they shared secrets, the hushed laughter that filled the kitchen during late-night conversations.

"You're gonna be alright, love." There was nothing he wanted more than to find Makarov and make him pay for what he had done. Return the pain he had caused to all of you tenfold.

His glove was soaked in blood. The crimson liquid stained the once pristine white skull hand a dark brown. He never despised the color brown more than he did in that moment. “Keep those pretty eyes on me, darlin’."

He could hear the distant footsteps approaching, urgent and hurried, echoing through the tunnel he had fought his way through not long ago, all in an effort to reach them. To reach her.

His gaze wandered up and away from her pale face, his eyes locking onto Johnny’s wide ones that were looking at her. Gaz sitting by his side, pressing a gauze to the left side of Soap’s face; his attention also fixed on her.

Price’s voice echoed from somewhere behind him, barking orders and demanding medical attention. And as his eyes shifted once more, he spotted Harry standing by a pillar, tears welling in his eyes as he looked at her.

He knew Viper well enough to be familiar with his first name. She had shared stories about him, the friend who convinced her to enlist alongside him, and the one constant in her entire career. He could sense the guilt emanating from him, and he dared not imagine what thoughts were consuming him in that moment.

Harry had been the one to bring her here, to this job, to this moment, and Ghost wanted to blame him for it, but he couldn’t. After all, without Harry, Simon was sure he would have faced a very lonely and unhappy life without her by his side.

For a moment, everything was silent; even his own mind had ceased its relentless chatter, and then he heard choking. “Love, breathe."

But she didn’t listen to him, so he tried again, louder. "Love, you 'ave to breathe," he pleaded, his hands trembling slightly with fear. “Darlin’, please.”

Just as his hands reached to pull at her vest, a firm hand grabbed his shoulder, attempting to pull him away. “Simon.” He squirmed away from the hand, moving forward because she wouldn’t breathe. He had to take her vest off. She couldn’t breathe.

The hand reached out again, its grip firmer than before, and pulled him back as he fought against it. “She can’t breathe,” he insisted, reaching forward again, his tainted, gloved hands grazing her vest before another hand landed on his bicep, forcibly pulling him away from her. “Simon, let ‘em do their job.”

He moved forward again, but this time, the hands on his body didn’t let him get far. “Ghost, let ‘em save ‘er.”

His tension eased only when his eyes registered the uniforms of the individuals who had taken his place beside her. Medical.

He fought the urge to cover his ears as the choking sounds grew louder and louder. “She can’t breathe.” Her eyes still tracked his every move, each flicker becoming slower, eyelids growing heavier, but they never left his, as per his request.

The notion of time eluded him; one moment, he was cradling her frame in his arms, whispering encouraging words, and the next, he was watching the ambulance leave.

The same hand that had initially separated him from her body touched his shoulder again, its weight lighter than before. “Son, I-“ The gentle pats from the hand ceased. “‘am sorry.”

“Nothin’ to apologize for, Price."

The drive felt impossibly long, yet too short at the same time. He wanted to be with her; he truly did, but another feeling nagged at his heart. A little voice in his head accompanied the feeling, reciting every worst-case scenario. Scenarios he couldn't allow himself to imagine. What-ifs that, if he allowed his mind to dwell on for too long, would forever haunt him.

She got lucky; it was only a graze. He knew the receptionist was just trying to ease their minds and assure them that she would be fine. Alive, and finally breathing. Still, he wanted to punch the reassuring smile off of her face. Lucky? How on earth could this whole thing be considered luck?

It felt like an eternity had passed as he waited for any updates. Johnny had come out not too long ago, a bandage around his head, a sling supporting his arm, and a worried look in his eyes as he scanned the reception area.

Gaz was the first to stand up and approach him, guiding him to where they were.

Simon felt for Johnny; out of the four of them, he was the only one who hadn't received a single update. According to him, the last thing he heard or saw from her was at the ambulance, and when he asked any of the medical staff for answers, they refused to provide any information, leaving him to assume the worst.

That she was gone. That the girl who he had grown so fond of— a sister to him, had been lost while protecting him. That her life had been taken away in exchange for his own.

In all the time Ghost had worked with Soap, he had never seen him so defeated. No jokes, no stupid stories—just pure and utter worry in his eyes, a stark contrast to the mischief that Ghost had grown so accustomed to seeing sparkle within them.

Once he had been filled in with the little information that they knew, his stance relaxed slightly, but like them, the worry didn’t completely dissipate until a nurse approached them. She was fine. Alive. Breathing.

After another hour or so, she was finally allowed to have visitors. Upon entering her room, his eyes quickly scanned the surroundings, taking in the sight before them. The sterile, white walls seemed to close in around him, contrasting sharply with the chaos of medical equipment scattered throughout the room. Wires and tubes crisscrossed the space, connecting her to an array of beeping monitors and humming machines.

The heart rate monitor emitted a steady rhythm that accompanied his ears as his gaze lingered on the IV stand beside her bed, the transparent bag of saline hanging precariously, dripping life into her veins.

As for her, she lay motionless on the hospital bed, her features pale and drawn, a bandage wrapped snugly around her neck.

Price was the first to move, his steps quiet as he approached her. "Oh, kid. What 'ave ya done?" His hand carefully took hers with a sigh. He wasn’t disappointed; no, he was worried, like a father would be.

He had been right there, in the perfect spot for his eyes to witness, with unimaginable clarity, the moment the bullet hit her. Some of her blood splattering on his face, the vivid image of her crumbling body etched in his mind forever as he reached for his gun.

Price’s desperate yell had been the reason why Simon’s steps had increased to an unimaginable speed. The pain and anger in his captain’s voice only increasing the panic that gripped at his soul as shots started to go off again. And then he saw them.

He saw Johnny’s trembling form kneeling on the ground, and Price's hand coming up to aim his gun at the retreating form of Makarov.

He watched Makarov’s image disappear as a train flew past them, Price's body crawling to her. Tugging her to his side by her vest, shaking her body as he yelled at her to look at him.

He saw Kyle appear and kneel next to the bomb as he ran forward, his knees hitting the ground next to her at the same time as Price moved back to the bomb, instructing Gaz on what to do.

There were only a few instances when he could admit that Simon had a stronger grip over him than Ghost did, today being one of them.

He hadn’t been able to focus on anything other than her. Her eyes, her mouth, and her blood forever staining his hands. On top of all that, he remembered her promise. Her promise to be safe. A vow similar to the one he had made to her, the only difference being the fact that he kept his and she didn’t.

As the hours stretched on, a steady stream of visitors flowed in and out—military friends, superiors looking for mission details, nurses, and doctors.

At some point Kyle had offered to take Johnny back to base, but it took Price’s authoritative insistence to finally persuade Johnny to leave, making the captain and lieutenant the only ones left in the room with her.

Price clenched his fists, his brows furrowing in frustration. "I wanna be mad at 'er for what she did," he grumbled, his voice tinged with annoyance, prompting Simon’s gaze to shift from her to him. “It was stupid, but she saved our arses."

With a sigh, Price's hands came down to his knees, pushing against them as if to support his own weight as he stood up. “In all my years in the military, I’ve only encountered two individuals whose loyalty matched their bravery." Simon watched his captain’s movements, noticing the slight shake of his head as he continued with a softer voice. “Willing to sacrifice everything to protect others.” Price’s hand reached forward, placing it on her leg and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Her bein’ one of ‘em.”

After a moment, he released her leg and met Simon's gaze. "You the other." With a nod of his head in his captain’s direction, he quietly murmured, “Double-edged sword.”

Price lingered for a moment, his eyes returning to her face for one last glance before he made his way over to where Simon sat. With a couple of gentle pats on his shoulder, he said, "Get some sleep, son. She's going to be alright."

As soon as the door closed and he was alone with her, he allowed his facade to crumble. The emotions he had kept at bay surged over him like crashing waves, threatening to drown him in their intensity.

The events of the day played on repeat in his mind, each moment etched vividly in his memory. He could still feel the weight of her hand on his shoulder, her comforting touch easing his stress. The scent of her hair filling his senses as he held her close, her head resting against his chest.

The worry that consumed him as they tried to reach her, only to be met with silence on her end, and the relief that flooded through him when she finally responded, her gentle voice interrupted by static.

The scream of his captain echoing in his ears, and the sight of her body lying on the blood-covered ground. Her dimming eyes and paling skin. The struggling gasps for air and the sound of her choking on her own blood.

The hands holding him back and away from her, and his best mate’s eyes filled with terror. The slight tremor in Price’s hands and the constant pacing from Kyle.

The weight of it all bore down on him, threatening to crumble his resolve as he made his way over to her, each step feeling heavier than the last until he finally reached her bedside.

He went to take her hand in his but stopped as soon as he noticed the dried blood on his now-bare hand. With a grimace, he rubbed at the stubborn residue, his skin reddening from the friction as he attempted to cleanse it away.

He continued to scrub at the stain until a smaller hand gently enveloped his, halting his frantic motions. It took a moment for his brain to register the touch, but when it did, a small gasp escaped his lips, and he looked up.

His eyes found hers in an instant, and his airway constricted. She was fine. Alive. Breathing.

Part two….?

Comm dialogues with no static:

1. “Six to Watcher, train tunnel is clear. Advancing to Crossover.”

2. “All Bravo- This is 0-7, taking effective fire. Konni has hostages.”

3. “That is Makarov’s last known position. Stay sharp.”

4. “Ghost, Zero, Gaz, troops in contact. What's your position?”

5. “Pushing up the train tunnel. Got wounded civilians.”

6. “No sight on the target. No hostages either.”

7. “Zero, what’s your position?”

8. “Zero, how copy?”

9. “Zero, check in! Are you alright?”

10. “For fuck’s sake, Zero!”

11. “Say again, you are unreadable.”

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #angst #fluff #flangst #reader insert

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mactavsh · 1 year

Note

Okay, hear me out! Headcanons where reader is just a complete sweetheart, always sees the light at every tunnel and the good in every person. A little naive and a little too trusting. Prior to meeting Task Force 141, reader and Graves knew each other first and he’s been kind of a mentor to her, knowing how easy she is to lie to, Graves uses it to his advantage. And like, when the moment comes where Graves and Shepard betray the 141 reader is literally heart-broken and they become Uber protective and just, comforting her in the only ways they know how while she’s still processing the hows and why’s of everything — just a sad little innocent ball of joy suddenly becoming the gloomiest thing ever, oh no. The angst, I beg of you.

oooooh this is good stuff anon

relationships: Task Force 141 x Gender Neutral Reader (Platonic)

warnings: depression

Shadow Company was where you found out you had a knack for this line of work. Graves hand-picked you for the team and quickly became a mentor to you.

You trusted every commanding officer fully, especially Graves. Following every order to a T., you always fell into the role of the person on the team everyone could count on.

You eventually moved on from Grave’s team and found yourself on Price’s radar. After vetting your skills he recruited you for the 141. Immediately you fell into step with all of them.

You all became close, each one becoming a brother to you. You always made sure each of them was taken care of.

On the days when Ghost was especially lost within his thoughts and began to isolate, you made sure he still took care of himself.

You made sure Gaz ate consistently when he was too wrapped up in research.

Soap knew your door was always open because you knew he hated being alone.

Prevented Price from pulling consistent all-nighters or brought him coffee when it couldn’t be helped.

You trusted each of them with your life and they fiercely protected you from harm. There were no secrets between you and the boys. Your history with Graves was partially why Shepard choose Shadow Company to aid the 141 in Mexico.

The rainy night of Grave’s betrayal becomes a dark spot staining your memories of your former mentor and permanently altering how you saw the world.

Once you were all safe, long after the fight in Las Almas and Grave’s death you all returned to base and the boys notice immediately the change in you.

You isolated yourself, they never saw you come out of your room unless it was for a meeting. Typically after meetings, the room was filled with your ramblings but now you left as soon as dismissed, deep bags had grown under your eyes.

Ghost recognized the look in your eyes and tried to mirror what you do for him. He cooked you food and left it outside your door, worry only growing when he walked passed the next day to find it all untouched.

Soap knocked on your door in an attempt to get you to come out. He offered to put on your favorite movie or let you beat him at Uno but he was met with no response.

Gaz brought some of your favorite snacks and electrolyte drinks setting them next to the food Ghost left for you, hoping to find at least one of the drinks gone the next time he passed by.

After a week of the team continuing like this, Price decided to take action. He knew you would resent him at first but he couldn’t watch you waste away. He barged into your room, insisting you get your thoughts out.

You wanted to be mad at him but the worry in his eyes made your walls crumble. Hours passed as you sobbed, Price held you the entire time. Promising to never put you in that position again.

Things returned almost back to normal after his intervention. You stopped isolating yourself as much but you were noticeably colder on missions. Each member of the team vowed to bring the light back to your eyes, not one caring how long it would take.

#task force 141 x reader (platonic)#task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #cod headcanons #mw2 #cod #mw2 headcanons #mactavsh

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nichuuu · 1 year

Text

Yeowooya

Tags: Smut, creampie, facial, handjob, teasing, subby joy, doggy, riding, fluff(?) Word count: 6k++

The clacking of your keyboard filled the empty office. Your eyes throbbed in their sockets, begging you for some sort of rest from your computer screen. The minute hand of the clock was slowly approaching the 12 mark on the clock, it would be 1 am soon. Regardless, you were determined to put in those extra hours and finish this damn proposal. With a sip of some extra strong coffee, you let the caffeine take over your senses. You mindlessly typed away, words appearing on the document faster than your mind could process.

Your teammates had gone out drinking again. Unlike them, you had a sense of responsibility in you, so you were the one who stayed to finish the last leg of the proposal. While your so-called “teammates” were busy celebrating god knows what, you were slaving away in your space, fingers achy and joints sore.

“Wow… Hard working as ever…”

You looked up. A familiar face smiled back at you over the cubicle.

“Not now Soo-young,” You huffed, looking back at your screen. From your peripheral vision, you saw the woman pout.

“Aw… Why so grumpy?” She teased you. You glared at her.

“I said: Not now,” You repeated yourself. Joy rolled her eyes.

“Fine…” She sighed. Her head disappeared behind the wall of your prison, re-appearing from the entrance to your cubicle.

“Is it me? Or does this place get messier and messier each time I visit?” She mused.

“Keep your hands off my shit,” You warned her, eyes not leaving the screen.

“I’ll do what I please, thank you.”

You heard her rummaging through some papers on your desk. You wanted to whip around and just let her have it right there, but you were so close to completing your task. Forcing yourself to stay laser focused, you pushed yourself a little more. Your fingers moved faster, the frequency of the clacking increasing. At some point, you felt Soo-young looking over your shoulder, watching silently as words appeared on screen. Then she went back to poke her nose into the papers on your desk.

“Damn… This paper was dated 2 years ago!” You heard her mutter. “He really needs to sort his shit out…”

More rustling came from behind you. You were on the final stretch now, just a few more sentences left. You could feel your heart beating faster in excitement as you made your way towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

Alas, you typed out the final word. A rather loud yell of victory left your mouth as you saved your work. You crashed back in your chair, feeling more relieved than you’d ever had before.

“Oh my god… Never again…” You grimaced, massaging your tired eyes.

“This all seems like a you problem not gonna lie,” Joy chimed in. You opened your eyes.

“Joy… Please shut the fuck up,” You requested. In response, she dragged your chair out and spun you in a circle. You yelped, quickly planting your feet down in the ground to stop yourself. God forbid those 4 cups of coffee came out of you.

“You’re done with your work! Stop being a grumpy old fart!” Soo-young reminded you. You sighed.

“Stop nagging. You remind me of my Eomma,” You told her. She scoffed.

“Maybe you should take better care of yourself. That way I can stop taking care of you like you’re a little kid,” Joy retorted. You wanted to argue against her statement, but she had a fair point.

“Fair enough,” You relented.

“That’s what I thought bitch boy,” She sneered playfully. You chuckled.

You weren’t sure how to describe your relationship with Soo-young. You started off as complete strangers to each other, strangers that worked 2 desks away and always seemed to go to the same spot for lunch everyday. One fine day, she sat down next to you in the middle of a meeting—she was half an hour late—and introduced herself to you. You spent the long hours of the meeting entertaining yourselves in hushed, clandestine conversations, stopping only when your boss turned back to face the zombie crowd. At the end, you made yourself a new friend and exchanged numbers with her.

Months passed. You got closer to Soo-young, close enough to call her what all her friends called her.

“They call me Joy,” She told you one morning over some doughnuts and coffee.

“Joy?” You mused. She shrugged.

“Yea… I never really understood why, but the name stuck.”

You would come to understand why with time. She truly lived up to her namesake, her bright, contagious smile and her amusing personality making her a true Joy to be around. You liked her company, it made the office feel like less of a slave plantation.

Your relationship with her was simple up til Christmas day. She invited you back to her place for a couple of drinks after an office party, and you gladly obliged. A few jokes, some snacks and quite a few glasses of wine later, your clothes were discarded together with Joy’s and you were taking her against the window of her apartment. After your fling with her that night, you two made a mutual agreement: What happened would be a one time thing. You were friends, simple as that.

However, neither of you really kept to the first part of the agreement. It was broken just a few weeks after when Joy pulled you into a storage room and sucked your cock.The she proceeded to take your cock up her pussy, your hand clasped around her mouth to prevent anyone from hearing her moans. You broke the agreement two months later, guiding her away from the poolside party at a friends house, ripping her bikini off her and fucking her senseless in the guest bathroom. Since then, sex with Joy happened almost on a weekly basis—sometimes a monthly basis if you two were really busy. No real feelings had manifested for Joy, and Joy certainly didn't seem interested to enter a relationship with you of all people. Hence, the two of you declared yourselves friends with benefits.

“Why are you still in the office?” You asked Joy, powering off your monitor. Soo-young sighed.

“Had to file my team’s paperwork again…” She lamented. “I really hate these slackers.”

“Same here,” You chuckled bitterly. “I just keep saving their asses over and over again while they go out drinking every other night… Ridiculous if you ask me.”

Joy laughed, clearly sharing a common sentiment.

“Should’ve just shredded all the papers… Let those fucks rot for all I care,” Joy mused.

“We’re on the last leg of the proposal submissions… Presentations are tomorrow,” You reminded her. Joy nodded.

“Yep… Which is exactly why I plan on calling in sick tomorrow,” She said. You raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

Joy scoffed.

“We’re the same. We both stay for long hours in the office saving our team’s asses, but we get zero recognition at the end of it all cause it’s a ‘group effort’,” Joy lamented. “I’ve been doing all the work. I want to see how they pitch the proposal without me tomorrow.”

You smirked.

“You’re more cunning than I thought,” You mused. She winked.

“I’ve got lots of ideas up here,” She said, tapping her head. “You know, maybe you should call in sick tomorrow too…”

You shook your head.

“As much as I want to let my team burn to the ground, I don’t see myself doing that,” You told her honestly. Joy groaned.

“Oh my god! You and your morals!” She sighed. “Have a little fun! You certainly seem to be able to put aside your little moral compass when we fuck.”

“But that’s because… Because… Uh…” You struggled to argue.

“Because what huh?” Joy pressed. “Because you like using my tight little body and ravishing my ass? Is that it?”

She wasn’t exactly wrong, but you didn’t want to let her win just like that.

“And what if that is the reason? What are you gonna do, Joy?” You challenged her. Joy stared at you for a moment. Her brows furrowed, visibly deep in thought.

“Alright then,” She finally said after some time. “If that really is the reason… I pitch you an offer.”

You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Let’s hear it.”

Joy leaned against your desk.

“If you call in sick with me tomorrow, I’ll let you fuck me tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I’m guessing there’s a catch?” You prompted. She grinned.

“But of course,” She replied. “If you fuck me tonight. You have to come to the beach with me tomorrow.”

“That sounds like more of a win for me,” You told her bluntly.

“It’s a win-win for the two of us,” She explained. “You get to fuck me and go to the beach—I get to screw over both our teams, get railed and go to the beach. Simple.”

You nodded your head thoughtfully, pretending to think it over. In truth, you had your answer ready for quite some time.

“So?” Joy urged.

“I accept your offer,” You answered. Joy grinned.

“Perfect,” She said. “Now get your shit and let’s go. All this talk about sex has me aching for your cock.”

As she turned to leave, you grabbed her by the wrist.

“Who said anything about leaving?” You asked. Joy raised an eyebrow.

“My my… Getting mischievous aren’t you?” She teased.

“Well… Like you said: I can set aside my moral compass when it comes to fucking you.”

Joy smiled that lustful smile.

“So are you just gonna keep talking? Or are you gonna kiss me?”

In a flash, you were up on your feet, her tight frame in your arms and her lips on yours. Her hands touched your chest, your own hands on her ass.

“I know the pin to my boss’s office…” Joy whispered. “She has a couch in there.”

A sly grin made its way up your face.

“Then what are we waiting for?” You asked. Joy giggled. She grabbed your hand, hurriedly pulling you towards the direction of her boss’s office.

Looks like your night was far from over.

You ran to that office with Joy like it was an emergency. Once there, Joy hurriedly punched in the numbers. A series of beeps, a green flash and Joy threw open the door, pulling you in with her.

“Any cameras in here?” You asked her.

“Nope,” She replied confidently. “Funnily enough, the CEO turns off all the cameras at night to save money on electricity. That’s why we have so many security guards.”

“That sounds oddly convenient,” You mused.

You found a light switch and flipped it on. The room filled with warm light, revealing the spacious office that was at your disposal.

“Christ. Just shut up and undress me already,” Joy huffed. She moved to unbutton your shirt, and you did the same. The lacy fabric of her bra slowly became more and more visible with each button that came undone, heightening your excitement and making your cock twitch wildly in your pants.

Joy tugged at your pants.

“Get this off,” She whispered. You gladly undid your belt and unbuckled your trousers. They fell with a ‘thump’, pooling around your ankles and exposing the very apparent bulge in your underwear. Joy got her skirt off, making quick work of the article of clothing and tossing it to a side.

“Come here,” She said. She captured your lips, hands hooking the waistband of your underwear and pulling it down. You jolted a little when you felt the coolness of her palm against your shaft, but quickly adjusted, relishing the small sparks of pleasure when she stroked your length slowly. Your lips parted with hers, your eyes drinking in Joy’s curvaceous body.

“The usual?” She asked, toying with the tip of your cock.

“You pick,” You told her. There was a gleam in Joy’s eyes as she placed a finger on her lips, deep in thought.

“I wanna ride you,” She decided. You grinned.

“Sure thing, but I want to eat you out first.”

Joy let go of your cock.

“Then fucking eat me.”

She guided you over to her boss’s desk. She propped herself up on it, spreading her luscious thighs apart and exposing a wet patch on her still-clothed pussy. It would only be a matter of time before her underwear would be discarded as well.

You didn’t need to be invited over. You were on your knees in a flash, hands pushing Joy’s spreading Joy’s legs a little further. Your index finger pressed against the damp spot on her panties, making her gasp when you started tracing the outline of her pussy with your fingertip.

“D-Don’t tease me like that…” She whispered.

“I like to play with my food a little,” You smirked. She whined, her voice full of need and desire. She squirmed atop the desk, eyes squeezed shut and head tilted back. She made no further attempts to cease your teasing.

When you eventually decided you had Joy riled up, you pulled the thin fabric of her panties off. Her pink folds glistened under the light. You licked your lips, mouth watering at the sight.

You planted a kiss on her left thigh, then her right. Joy’s legs trembled in anticipation.

“Look at me Joy,” You ordered. She bit down on her lower lip, eyes locking onto you. Maintaining eye-contact, you leaned forward and placed your mouth on her soaking pussy.

You’d never forget her reaction when your tongue darted out, sweeping across her slick with the tip of your tongue. Her head whipped back, jet black hair sent flying behind her as she let a sharp sigh escape her lips. You quickly responded with another lick, your tongue tracing a path from the bottom of her slit to the top of her opening. Her juices accumulated on your tongue, her taste lingering in your mouth.

Joy’s hand found your head. She gripped a fistfull of your hair, your name spilling out from her half-parted lips. Her thighs clamped around your head, the flesh drowning out the whir of the air conditioning — a warm, pillowy heaven. Her moans resonated through her body, her thighs vibrating slightly with each gasp or sigh. Your tongue attacked her folds, the flat side of your tongue brushing up Joy’s womanhood in slow, long strokes. The tip of your tongue flicked the swollen nub at the top of her pussy, playing with her clit to your heart's content as you made Joy writhe with pleasure. Nails dug into the back of your skull. Her Thighs clamped down harder around your ears. Her juices leaked out of her cunt, pooling in your mouth as Joy pushed your head into her, forcing your tongue as deep as it could go.

Her thighs shifted down slightly, gripping your cheeks in their grasps instead.

“Fuck… Keep going… Keep eating me…” She pleaded, face twisting in pleasure. There was really no need for that request. You never intended on stopping till she came.

It didn’t take long for you to get close to accomplishing your mission. When her thighs tensed around you, you increased the intensity of your assault. Joy’s breaths became shallower, the intervals between her moans decreasing with each one that left her mouth.

“Oh god… I’m cumming… I’m fucking—”

She never finished her sentence. Her throat strained visibly, her vocal chords tensing as the pleasure struck her like a bolt of thunder. In a sweaty, beautiful disarray, Joy orgasmed. Her lips formed a round “o”, her nails threatening to puncture your scalp. You lapped up the juices that gushed out from her entrance, drinking in as much of her as you could. You fell some of her sweet fluids dribbling down your chin, but you’d handle that later.

You held her body down by her thighs as she shook and quivered on the table. Eventually she settled down enough. She brought her left hand—which had been digging into your scalp—-down to your cheek. She lifted up your head softly.

“Couch… Let me fuck myself on your cock.”

You smiled.

“With pleasure Joy.”

You stood up. Grasping her hand, you helped her off the table and onto the couch. Your cock throbbed violently in her hand as she gripped it firmly, guiding the tip of your shaft to her entrance. Without a word of warning, she dropped down, sheathing you inside of her tight little cunt. Your eyes bulged, a strained sigh leaving your throat. Your hands found her full ass, gripping it tightly.

“Fuck… I always forget how big you are…” She breathed, slowly grinding against you to adjust to your size.

“But you never forget how much you love bouncing on my cock, do you Joy?” You asked.

“Of course…” She replied, eyes glazed with pleasure. “I will never forget how good it feels to be filled with your cock.”

Her hips stopped moving. She shifted on top of you, her hands resting on your shoulders. She kissed you tenderly, tasting herself on your lips.

“I’m gonna fuck myself so hard on this big cock,” She whispered.

“Go ahead Joy,” You said. “Show me how you ride this cock.”

When she began bouncing on you, the sensation of her walls gripping and sliding up and down your shaft almost made you black out. You grounded yourself in reality with the aid of the tender flesh of Joy’s butt, your teeth clenching as she impaled herself on you relentlessly. Her pussy pulsed around your shaft, each beat matching her pace.

“So… Fucking… Big…” She gasped. “I’m… Addicted… To your big cock.”

Her voice was raspy, filled with desire. She wanted this. She needed this.

You smirk, eyes glued to her breasts that were bouncing with each impact she made against you. She caught you looking, taking the hint and leaning forward to give you better access to her assets.

“Thank you,” You smirked through the overwhelming pleasure. You dived in, licking up the sweat between her breasts before shifting slightly to take one of her tits into your mouth. Joy’s walls seemed to clench down tighter around you, responding to the attention you gave her breasts. She moaned louder, riding you faster as your tongue swirled around her taut nipple.

“Fuck yes, suck my tits. Suck my fucking tits!” She screamed. Her cheeks were flushed, her body glistening with sweat as she rode you fiercely. She wasn’t letting up on her pace, fucking herself harshly on your cock just as she promised. She seemed to be sucking you deeper and deeper between her folds. Each bottom of her strokes squeezed you deliciously, partially forcing you out of her pussy when she rose. The motion repeated, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

You could feel the cushion of the couch compressing under your combined weight, Joy’s frantic bounces onto you making it feel like you were on a trampoline. She moaned right into your ear, making your hair stand as her scent filled your nose. Joy overwhelmed your senses. You were going insane.

She continued riding you, thighs clamped around your waist and her arms wrapped around your neck. You released her tit from your mouth, mounds of flesh glistening in a mixture of sweat and saliva. Joy’s eyes, half-lidded in pleasure, stared into yours. The intimacy was sublime.

As much as you would have enjoyed letting Joy bounce on your cock forever, you had your limits.

“Joy…” You grunted. She understood.

She stopped riding you, quickly dismounting you and sitting down next to you. Her hand gripped your shaft, slick with her juices, jerking you off frantically.

“Quick, choose a place to cum,” She urged you.

It takes effort. But through your gritted teeth, you manage a reply.

“Y-Your face. Let me cover your face.”

Joy was on her knees in an instant. Her hand never left your shaft, pumping away with gusto as she closed her eyes. Her free hand fondled your balls, gently massaging your cum up your shaft as your toes curled into the carpet. With a grunt, you let loose.

Rope after rope of your hot seed shoots out of your cock. Joy’s face is covered almost instantly, your load painting her features white in your semen. She squeezed your cock, forcing every last drop of cum out of you. Your body went rigid in overwhelming bliss, your senses numbed by the force of your tidal wave of an orgasm.

Joy waited patiently for the last drop of your cum to ooze out of your twitching shaft. Her tongue emerged from her cum stained lips, licking up your seed that was around her mouth before cleaning you up thoroughly. You mustered the strength to rest a hand on her head, gently stroking her sweat-matted hair as she worked on your cock, helping you to gently ease down from your high.

“That… Was better than I imagined,” You mused.

“Ever since when has sex with me been a disappointment?” Joy grinned, gathering bits of your load off her face with her fingers.

“That’s true…” You mused. Joy giggled, slapping your cock against her face.

Joy waited for you to regain some strength, content with sucking your cock in the meantime.

When you could finally stand, you assisted Joy in cleaning up the mess you made on her face. When all was said and done, you and Joy made sure that there were no odd stains left anywhere in her boss’s office. Once you were both sure that your deed would not be discovered, you hastily put your clothes back on. You turned off the lights and slipped out of the office.

“That was fun,” Joy giggled, hugging your arm. “Now… I expect you to hold up your end of our deal.”

You chuckled.

“It would be rude of me not to after what we did,” You mused. Joy smiled.

“Good… Then it looks like we’ll be seeing each other tomorrow.”

~~~~~~

The sun shined intensely on your face. Joy’s car cruised down the road, the wind catching her flowy black hair and making her sundress flap a little in the wind.

“Quit staring at my tits will you?” She remarked.

“You can’t blame me,” You defended yourself. She rolled her eyes.

“Right. I just look too good in this don’t I?”

You chuckled, your eyes turning back to the road. The sand and the blue waters were visible now, you were close.

“Take the exit just up ahead,” You instructed her.

“I know what I’m doing. You don’t need to backseat drive,” She scoffed.

“All right… You’re the boss…”

Joy smirked, pushing up her sunglasses a little. When the exit came, you were amused when Joy’s car sped right past it.

“I thought you said you knew what you were doing?” You questioned.

“I do,” She answered confidently.

“Then why the fuck did you miss the exit?”

“Cause we’re going somewhere else.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you said we were going to the beach?”

Joy smiled innocently.

“We are, just a different part,” She answered. You gave her a look.

“What?” She asked. “Why are you giving me that side eye?”

You folded your arms.

“Why are you suddenly changing our destination?” You interrogated. Joy’s lips formed a thin line.

“Relax. I’m not kidnapping you or anything,” She reasoned with you. “Just calm your ass down. We’re almost there.”

You were a little sceptical, but you knew better than to doubt Soo-young. But you still had the urge to have a final say.

“Always breaking agreements,” You muttered.

“I heard that,” She told you.

“You were supposed to,” You replied. Joy clicked her tongue in annoyance, but you recognised that familiar cheeky glint in those eyes. She was having fun, so were you.

Joy drove for another 10 minutes or so. A roof of a structure slowly emerged, a stand alone seaside chalet revealing itself.

“We’ll get the beach to ourselves here,” Joy grinned. You chuckled.

“You’re full of surprises,” You remarked.

“And you’re full of shit,” She shot back.

Joy’s car pulled up to the gate of the chalet. She rustled through her tote bag for a bit before retrieving a remote. With a click of a button, the gate rolled open. Joy drove in, parking the car just outside the entrance to the small house.

“We came here on a team retreat a year ago, I figured out how to book it,” She told you.

“I didn’t ask,” You said.

“But you’re bound to ask at some point,” She fired back.

She wasn’t wrong.

You helped Joy to unload the things in her trunk, amused to find that she had brought beverages and meat to grill. You quickly deduced that this would be an overnight stay, realising why she asked you to pack an extra set of clothes.

You entered the chalet with Joy. While Joy put your things in the room, you busied yourself with storing the meat and drinks in the fridge. It was quick work for the both of you.

“Look around for a bit, I need to change,” Joy told you.

“Can I watch?” You asked. She slapped your arm.

“Fucking pervert.”

You chuckled. Joy giggled a little before retreating back to the room and shutting the door behind her. You did as suggested, exploring the place a little while you waited for Joy to emerge out of the room. It was a cosy little spot, complete with an outdoor dining area that offered a breathtaking view of the sea. The view was great, but something told you that the view of Joy’s naked body would’ve been better.

“All right. Let’s head to the water.”

You turned. Your mouth dried up.

Joy sauntered towards you, towel in hand. Her wide hips swaying in those skimpy shorts that cut off perfectly around the fullness of those thighs, perky breasts bulging out behind that tight neon-yellow top on her body, bending the words “Life Is Sweet” around her ample tits. Her hair was tied up into a high ponytail, a cap sitting on her head to block out the harsh sun.

“What?” She prompted, giving you a look.

“N-Nothing,” You quickly replied, shaking off the dirty thoughts in your head. “Let’s go…”

You slid the door open and walked out into the deck. You could hear Joy’s pattering footsteps behind you, and you had to resist the urge to look back and get another good look at her. You’d seen her in all sorts of clothing. Suits, dresses, mini skirts, you’d seen it all. Hell you’d even seen her naked countless times.

But this? This felt so different for some odd reason.

Your feet hit the sand, the grains crushing under your feet as you moved towards the water.

“Wait,” Joy called out from behind. You turned—a little too enthusiastically—and saw her holding out a bottle.

“Put on some sunscreen,” She told you, walking up to you and uncapping the bottle. You held out a palm, and Joy pumped a generous dollop into your hand. You thanked her with a smile before applying the lotion onto your body. Joy busied herself with her own body, the Sunscreen making her skin gleam slightly before she rubbed the lotion into her skin completely.

“Could you help me with my back?” She requested, turning her back to you. You quickly took a moment to soak in the shape of her ass in those shorts before walking over and taking the sunscreen from her. You pushed down, pumping some of the lotion onto your hand before applying it on Joy’s back. Your hands cheekily slipped under the bits of her top that clung to her back, earning a playful gaze from the woman. You took your time to rub the lotion into her smooth skin, savouring the curves of her body from behind.

When you decided that you were satisfied, you stepped away.

“All done,” You smiled innocently.

“You sure took your time. Had a good look?” She teased, catching you red handed. You smirked.

“Definitely,” You replied. She smiled and pinched your cheek.

“What a cheeky boy…”

Joy laid down a mat under the shade of a tree, far enough from the tide but close enough for you to quickly access the water. You walked towards the azure blue sea with Joy, wet sand squishing under your feet as you went deeper and deeper. The two of you didn’t go in too deep, stopping when the water hit your knees. A wind had picked up, and Joy stretched out her arms.

“Ah… This is nice…” She sighed.

“Mhm,” You hummed in agreement. A smile made its way onto the girl’s face.

“I wonder how our teams are fairing…” She giggled.

“Not too well probably,” You answered truthfully.

“Ah well… We all get what we deserve…” She sighed. “And we deserve this nice bit of relaxation…”

You nodded, silently agreeing with her. There was a moment of silence between you two as you both stood there, letting the water sweep around your knees. The sea water left a pleasant tingle on your skin, giving you some sort of a respite to the heat of the summer.

Joy moved closer to you.

“You know what’s nice about this?” She whispered.

“What?” You asked. She stretched out her arm towards the shore.

“We have this segment of the beach to ourselves.”

She moved in a little more, your bare arms touching each other. You caught her gaze. She smiled.

“Say…” She began, gingerly reaching for your hand. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

“What is it?” You asked. Joy didn’t reply, opting to silently guide your hand onto her toned tummy. Your knuckles slipped past the waistband of her shorts, your fingers coming into contact with something warm and wet. Experience allowed you to deduce what exactly was against your fingertips.

“Ever thought about fucking on the beach?”Joy grinned.

“Nope… But I’m down to try,” You replied.

As quickly as you had entered the water with her, you found yourselves back up on shore, tongues in mouths and hands on each other. Joy’s mat served as a barrier between you and the sand, providing a perfect place for you to lay Soo-young down and slip your digits into her slick folds. A moan escaped her lips, her front teeth becoming visible as she bit down on her fingernail. You pumped your hand, working your fingers deeper into her slick cunt, your lips peppering her neck with kisses and light nibbles. A stream of moans and whines flowed from Joy’s mouth.

“Oh yes… Right there baby… R-Right fucking there,” She hissed, hips jerking when your fingers curled up and made contact with the soft flesh on the roof of her walls.

“You’re so wet Joy,” You muttered.

“I’m always wet for you…” She replied.

You smiled.

“You're always such a little slut for me, aren’t you?” You whispered into her ear. She nodded.

“O-Oh… Y-Yes… I’m your little slut…”

Your fingers worked faster, pumping harder and deeper into her warmth. She gasped sharply, her back arching deliciously. You bent her to your will, a dark part of you finding pleasure in making her yours.

“Oh shit… Don’t stop… Please don’t stop,” She whined, her left hand kneading her left breast while her right clung to your shirt sleeve for dear life. She let her sighs and gasps tumble out of her mouth, not bothering to control her volume as her hips start grinding against your hand. Her eyes filled with need, her tight body quivering and thrashing against your hand as she moaned your name into your ear. With each entrance of your fingers, a delightfully erotic squelch filled your ears, mixing with Joy’s filthy exclamations of pleasure. Your lips found Joy’s, muffling her cries with your mouth. Her thighs clamped down tightly around your hand, keeping you deep inside of her while you drove her wild.

Your left hand found one of her taut nipples, and you gave the nub a pinch. Joy moaned into your mouth, her right hand shifting up and gripping your forearm. You released her lips, allowing you to hear those cute mewls and gasps clearly. Her moaning increased in volume, her eyes widening.

“Fuck… I-I’m gonna cum,” She said, nails digging into your arm. “Keep fucking me with your fingers! I’m fucking… Oh!”

Joy came, tight frame shaking violently. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, pupils dilating further as her thighs quivered around your hand. Her back arched further, her breasts proudly protruding on her quivering chest. Your hand slowed, gradually halting to give Joy a breather through her high. Her body crashes down on the mat mere minutes later, heaving with each breath Joy took as the bliss faded. Sweat beaded on her brow, her skin glistening deliciously under the light.

Her weak left hand tilted your chin towards her. She finds your lips once more, holding you in a sweet kiss for a little before releasing you.

“Fuck me however you want… Just promise that you’ll cum in me this time.”

You smiled.

“Of course Joy…” You affirmed her. “Let’s get you undressed.”

Her soaking wet shorts were off in a flash, her skin-tight top following closely behind. Joy undid the strings of your shorts, pulling them down to let your hard cock spring out. Her hand gripped your shaft, slender fingers squeezing your member gently as she stroked you lazily.

“The usual?” She asked. You nodded, feeling a little bit of Deja vu. Joy’s hand left your cock, planting itself behind her. She flipped herself belly down, her big juicy ass raised and presented for you. You pulled your shorts down past your knees before positioning yourself behind Joy. She looked back at you, that devilish smile on her face as you slapped your cock against her ass.

“Put it in…” She whispered.

“Patience, Joy… You’re always in such a hurry,” You told her, taking your time to line yourself up with her slit. While you were aching to enter her, a dark part in you took pleasure in making the girl beg.

“Please… Please just put in already…” She implored, a wanton expression wiping the smile off her face. You finally relented.

You pushed your tip in, parting her flushed, pink lips as the rest of your cock slid into Joy’s cunt with ease. You groaned, hands gripping the full cheeks of her ass as you hilted yourself in her tight walls. It was pure bliss.

“God… You’re always so fucking tight Joy,” You hissed, spanking her with an open palm. She yelped in delight, ass rippling under the impact.

“Fuck me…” She gasped. She was so full of need and lust.

You did as she requested. Your hips popped back, your shaft redrawing from her slick momentarily before spearheading right back into the depths of her cunt. You gave her no time to adjust, quickly establishing a rough, frantic, carnal pace and taking her pussy. Joy was gasping, crying, screaming in delight, her ass rippling hypnotically with each deep stroke you made. Her little body rocked, the warmth of her ass cushioning your crotch with each entrance. Her hands dug into the sand, fingers buried deep in the grains to hold her steady as you pounded her tight little pussy mercilessly. Her walls sucked you in, pulling you deeper and deeper into her till you could feel the warmth of her core on the tip of your cock. Jolts of pleasure shot up your spine and through your nervous system.

Joy lowered her upper body to the ground, deepening the angle of your frantic thrusts into her. You reached down, hands quickly locating her swaying breasts and cupping them. You played with her soft ample mounds, relishing Joy’s curves in your palms.

“Oh fuck Joy… You take my cock so well,” You grunted.

“My body… Was made to take your cock,” She hissed back. “This pussy is yours. Take my slutty little pussy like it’s yours.”

She made eye contact with you for the nth time. The look in her eyes made something snap inside of you.

Your palm left her tits, pushing down on the small of Joy’s back. Her face dug into the mat, her thighs spreading even further to take you deeper into her folds. She screams your name, begging you for more.

You doubled down on Joy, your slick shaft emerging and disappearing between her slick pussy lips. Her hand reached between your bodies, rubbing frantically at her clit.

“Oh fuck fuck fuck! Fuck me fuck me fuck me!” She cried, sounding breathless. She was enjoying every last second of her treatment. The waves crashed against the shore, doing little to mask the screams of pleasure escaping from Joy’s lips.

You fucked Joy into the sand, taking control of her body as you bent over her to keep her pinned between you and the mat.

“How does it feel Joy?” You growled into her ear. “How does it feel being fucked like a dirty little slut?”

Joy struggled to answer.

“It feels… So… Fucking good…”

The pure filth coming from her mouth spurred you, making you fuck her faster, harder… You wanted to fuck her senseless like you always did. Joy loved taking your cock till her mind went blank. Be it in the office, in between her own sheets or even in a car, she relished the feel of your cock stretching her out and fucking her till her brain rattled in her skull. There was no such thing as “Slow” when you were with Joy.

Your hand gripped her ponytail, yanking back hard till her head was looking straight ahead.

“I’m gonna fucking cum Joy,” You hissed. “I’m gonna fucking cum inside your tight little cunt.”

“Yes yes yes… Do it! Fill me! I need it so fucking bad!” She grunted. Your hand leaves her hair, both hands gripping her wide hips roughly as you give Joy all you had.

Your orgasm almost made you black out. You buried yourself as deep as you could inside Joy’s body, struggling to keep your upper body upright. Your cock spasmed and pulsated, your body quivering and shaking — absolutely overwhelmed by pleasure. Joy’s sighs drowned out the noises around you, a dull ring in your ears as you pumped your load into her awaiting cunt. It takes an eternity for you to recover. When you do, Joy was quick to request for more.

“I want it in my ass next…” She told you. Through your sweat-matted hair, you managed a grin.

“Coming right up.”

You wouldn’t be going back into the water for quite some time.

~~~~

A cool evening breeze ruffled your hair, rustling the leaves of trees behind you as you sat on the deck with Joy. Her head rested on your shoulder, mouth busy chewing on the piece of meat in her mouth. There was a pleasant silence between the two of you, both of you silently listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

“Feed me another piece,” Joy requested. You gladly obliged, poking a slice of grilled meat with your fork and bringing it to her mouth. She bit it off your fork, chewing happily.

“You know… I think we should do this more often,” She told you between bites.

“There’s a limit on the number of times we can call in sick Joy,” You reminded her.

“Ah who fucking cares,” She said. “We can probably find other loopholes in the system.”

You chuckled.

“I guess so,” You mused. She tapped your hand. You fed her another piece of meat.

A deep sigh left her mouth. You risked a glance down, noting the look of content on her face as she stared out into the sea. The sun was setting just past the horizon, an orangish-golden glow illuminating the surface of the water. The sunlight blended with the deep blue water of the sea, the sun reflected on the surface of the water. It was… Oddly romantic.

“Thanks for coming out with me today,” Joy said. “I really appreciate it.”

You smiled.

“No problem Soo-young,” You replied. “I needed this break either way.”

Joy giggled.

“I know. So did I.”

“So was I always meant to be invited?” You questioned.

“Hm… Maybe.”

You feigned offence. Joy laughed and smacked your arm playfully.

“Well… Intended or not, I’m glad you asked me to come,” You told her sincerely. Her expression softened.

“That’s great… Would’ve been a waste if you didn’t,” She replied.

Your eyes met hers. For once, past the cheekiness, past the lust and past the mischief, you saw a faint glimmer of… something behind her gaze. Something stirred in you.

You looked back out towards the sea, feeling an odd sensation on your chest. You didn’t know what it was, but it made you hold Joy a little closer.

Maybe… Just maybe… You felt like the two of you were more than just friends with benefits.

-------------------

Hello. Hope you enjoyed this one. I had a little bit of a Joy overdose so...

Anyways, thanks for stopping by and reading! Have a great day!

#joy red velvet #park sooyoung #joy smut

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zer0pm · 10 months

Text

Imagine being an undercover agent who once infiltrated Umbrella and grew close to Luis Serra. You were forced to separate from him, never telling him why and broke his heart in the process. When you thought that you have finally moved on, you find him again. Tied up in a sack.

“What’s in Spain?”

“My home. A village, to be exact. And remote. The people there could use people like us to help them. No one would be able to find us there. Not even Umbrella. There, we can disappear.”

“…I’m sorry, Luis. I can’t.”

“You seem distracted.”

“What?” you blink, immediately biting your tongue after. But it was too late, you were caught red-handed.

“Case in point,” your partner Leon sighs. “So, what is it? What’s on your mind?”

You reply with a frown, “I’m wondering how deep these tunnels go. Must have something important down here for these… villagers to go through the trouble of trying to lock it up inconspicuously.”

It was such a blatant lie, the blond’s stony expression showed that he wasn’t buying it at all. But Leon doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leads on with his gun and flashlight pointing forward in the darkness. You were relieved that he didn’t press further.

But he’s also right. You were distracted and on a mission where a steady, focused mind is imperative at all times. Mulling over the past on things that were best laid forgotten is meaningless and offered no benefit to the task at hand. So why bother even allowing it to weigh so heavily in your thoughts?

Because what are the odds that this is the same place that he mentioned? The one that he wanted to hide away with you within? Given everything you’ve seen so far, with all these monsters roaming about, you sincerely hope not. Surely this is all coincidental and that he is in some other part of Spain.

“You mentioned that you grew up in Spain, right? What was it like there?”

“Oh? For once you don’t want to talk about work or whatever ingenius discoveries I’ve made recently? Pero, you actually want to engage in small talk? It must be a sign!”

“Answer the question or I’m requesting a department change.”

“Calma, calma. I only tease. Hmm… The weather can be unforgiving, especially during the rainy season. The people live day-to-day on whatever resources that can grow or be found under the constantly harsh conditions. Sickness often spreads and the treatment is… archaic.”

“This all sounds awful.”

“It wasn’t all bad. Everyone in our small community had someone to support them. I had my grandfather. He helped shape me to be the man I am today. A very handsome man at that, with both brains and brawn. In case, you didn’t notice already.”

“He must be very proud of you.”

“I hope so...”

“You don’t keep in touch?”

“So interested in my life story all of a sudden. And yet I still know so little of yours.”

“What’s there to know? There’s not much to tell.”

“See, that is where you’re wrong, my friend. A key to a great story is time to gather your thoughts. And I wouldn’t mind making time to listen to yours. How does after work sound? There’s an excellent coffee spot around the corner.”

“…You know what? A drink sounds great.”

You should have rejected him then and there. The task was only to gather information and find evidence of the production of biochemical weaponry. Forming attachments was not part of the job. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him then, convincing yourself that it was necessary to reinforce your cover. You were seen as just a researcher forging deep interpersonal relationships with your fellow coworker and not at all a spy for the government sent to infiltrate a pharmaceutical giant for secrets that could topple a nation.

No one suspected a thing- not Umbrella, not your handlers, not even him. It worked. But it didn’t make you feel any less guilty about it, especially when you developed real feelings for him and he reciprocated them earnestly and affectionately. At first, you meant to play along with no intention of taking him seriously. The Spanish researcher expressed himself as a man who talks a big game but settles down or folds over for no one. He had a reputation within the labs as a serial flirt after all.

However, the day he casually asked you out, he surprised you. Beneath all the playful, charming remarks and practiced come-hither smirks belied a genuine romantic. He was a man passionate about his work, driven by a real desire to help others. He cared about other people, evident at how intently he listened to you when your shared bits of yourself to him. Granted, much of what you said then was fabricated to uphold your secret identity, but he showed unwavering interest in you and the image you created as if you two were only people in that coffee shop that mattered. After one date came another, then another, then another until you lost count. You fell for him and you fell for him hard. And before you knew it, at his suggestion, the two of you moved in together.

It was a dream. A wonderful dream. You couldn’t remember the last time you lived a normal life, let alone someone to come home to. It was such a domestic feeling. To go wit him to work by day then go home together by night to fall asleep in each other’s arms and do it all over again the following morning. To fall into a routine was strange and something you grew affectionately accustomed to. And it was all because of him. He made you feel safe. He made you feel loved. He made you feel normal. But it was only a dream. And all dreams eventually come to an end.

It got to a point where you dug yourself so deep that by the time you had to shed your identity and leave him, it left scars that neither of you would ever recover from.

“¿Qué? What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I can’t go to Spain with you.”

“Is it the location? We can go anywhere you want,l, but we have to make sure we hide our tracks from Umbrella-”

“I mean that I can’t go with you. Anywhere. Period.”

“¿Mande? Why.”

“I want to tell you, I really do.”

“…Tú no me quieres.”

“No! Of course I do.”

“Then why? Why can’t you run away with me? I can protect us, you just have to trust-”

“This isn’t about trust.”

“Then tell me what it is!”

“…This isn’t going to work. I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“L-Lo siento, mi corazon. I didn’t meant to shout. We can work through this-”

“Just please remember that what we had was real.”

“¡Amor!”

“Goodbye, Luis.”

That was the last time you saw him. You broke his heart, the pieces of yours shattered away with every step that you took away from him. Revisiting those memories all caused a single tear to fall down your cheek.

You have to move on. It’s been long enough. It was all to protect him, you told yourself countless times. In your line of work, attachments just do not (and cannot) stick. And you stuck with that choice without an ounce of regret. You only hope that wherever Luis is now, he’s happy and safe. That alone kept you going.

When you finally broke yourself out of your daze, you found yourself facing a wall. You quietly berated yourself for your absentmindedness again and were grateful for the darkness. Luckily, your fellow agent didn’t notice you or your inner turmoil, something else catching his attention at the end of the tunnel.

“Over here. I found someone.”

Your head snaps towards Leon’s direction, your heartache momentarily dulled and set aside. “Ashley Graham?”

“Don’t know yet,” Leon replies, crouching down. “Here, hold the light.”

You hurry over to the blond’s side, taking the flashlight from him and directing it towards his finding. A large sack, big enough for a person, was flailing about. The sound of muffled struggling reaches your ears. Leon unties the top of the thick cloth before pulling it down. You almost didn’t believe what, or rather, who you were seeing. But your eyes were blown wide in recognition before Leon rips the tape off of their mouth. There was no mistaking those rugged features, that dark hair, and those grey eyes that you fell in love with helplessly so long ago.

It was him. The man that haunted your every thoughts and dreams. The man that dug his way into your heart and made a home there.

Luis Serra Navarro.

“Oh no, not you.”

The man merely gazes back at you, momentarily stunned before chuckling in that husky voice of his that you thought you’d never hear again.

“I’ve missed you too, mi corazon,” he says. His eyes glide over your form lasciviously, uncaring that you (and your partner) can see him staring shamelessly. He looked and smiled at you as if the years spent apart never happened. “Te ves bien.”

You had so many questions.

A/N: Part Two can be found right here~

#luis serra #resident evil 4 #luis serra navarro #luis serra x reader #luis serra imagine #re4 luis #re4 remake #resident evil x reader #it was a long time coming #but I finally finished this piece #I do want to continue off of this #two people rekindling a love they thought they put behind them #I’m a sucker for stuff like that #not proofread #resident evil imagines #zer0pm imagine #my writing #was rushing too so will go back to fix and improve some bits #but hope you enjoy!

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yawnderu · 6 months

Text

Bruises That Bloom Purple — TF141 x Reader

>This was originally going to be a part of my 141 x Reader fanfic Stray, though I decided to change the ending, so have this angst one-shot instead.

When Johnny left them, they mourned. But he also took a part of Stray; the part that made her human.

The journal in your hands was a reminder of everything you lost— everything that Johnny had in mind ever since he met the task force. Pages upon pages full of scribbles, drawings, plans. His mind poured into the paper as if he didn't want to forget, some pages stained with coffee and blood, some fully clean. Your hands shook as you held the small book close to your chest, sob after sob escaping your lips for so long that the migraine became a second part of you.

"Johnny..." You cried out, hoping he would walk through the door. Hoping he would appear out of nowhere, hoping he would take you with him, hoping for anything, anything at all that allowed you to see his pretty blue eyes again, to be held securely in his arms again, to be kissed by him again. Fuck, even the image of him hurt.

You didn't lose a teammate— you lost a soulmate. A piece of you, of your soul, a piece so crucial to you Makarov might as well have ripped your heart out and left you to bleed pathetically on the cold floor of the underground tunnel.

You're sobbing so loud you don't even hear the polite knock on the door, eyes screwed shut tightly, sealed by the tears that come flowing down like a broken dam. You don't register anything going on around you until you feel a bare hand on your cheek, vision blurry, yet you can recognize that burly figure anywhere— Simon. You don't do anything other than to keep sobbing, pressing the journal closer to your chest, maybe hoping it'll start sinking into your skin and will allow you to have a part of Johnny within you.

"I'm here, love." He whispers softly, his tone more gentle than anything you've ever heard. He slowly lays in bed with you and brings you closer to his chest, not minding the mess of saliva, tears, and snot now staining his shirt.

"Somethin' to keep your heart safe." He pressed something cold into your hand— Soap's dog tags. You instantly hold them tightly, using them as a lifeline to stay with it. Simon presses a soft kiss against your forehead before his hand presses on the back of your head, holding you even closer, allowing you to cry on him.

"Johnny had the braid you gave him with him all the time, did ya know? Kept it tucked away in his jacket. I r'member him talkin' about it all the time, braggin' about how you gave 'im that." A small chuckle escapes your lips for the first time ever since he died, the sound full of pain and bitterness, yet it was something. It gave Simon all the confirmation he needed to keep talking.

"He kept everythin' you gave 'im. If it wasn't the bloody braid, it was a picture. If it wasn't one of those... it was a letter." And you know it was true. You've read his journal for what feels like hundreds of times, some of the letters you gave him were tucked away in pages with drawings of you. If a letter wasn't there, it was one of the many polaroids he had of you. Some alone, some together, some with the entire task force, including a masked Ghost.

Your throat is too sore from sobbing, you couldn't even speak if you wanted to, so you simply nod while laying your head against his chest. There's something about Simon that has always glued you together— something about the man who, even when you didn't get along at first, gave you an odd sense of comfort. Perhaps it's his smell, perhaps his voice, and maybe even his soul, that always seems to be one with yours.

"For Johnny, 't was a reminder that he was never alone." He kisses your forehead again, one of his hands gently massaging your scalp while the other one rubs up and down your back, spreading the warmth of his hand all over your trembling body.

You remember the exact same moment you gave him that braid. A protection braid made with a small strand of the bottom of your hair, sealed with words of affirmation and wishes of the future, a few months after your relationship with the men started. Love. Survival. Companionship.

"When we..." You began, voice wavering and weak, yet it had Simon's full focus. "When we scatter his ashes, can you do me a favor?" He'd do anything for you.

At 15:30, the 141 arrived at the cliff. You're all stuck in silence for a few minutes, mourning in your own ways while looking at the sunset and the ocean below you. The view is nothing short of breathtaking, yet the heartbreak is too great to fully appreciate it. You can't help but think Johnny would have loved this view, but the thought is quickly interrupted.

"He was the best of us." Price says, gravely voice growing even deeper at the pain of losing such an important part of his soul.

"The toughest." Gaz continues, looking into the ocean.

"He'd've fought the world bare handed..." Simon replies and all you can do is look into the water, trying your best to hold it together. Simon leans down, grabbing the urn from his backpack. He holds it up and you all put your hands on it, holding a part of Johnny for the last time.

"Who dares wins..." And win he did. At the very least, Johnny found a family.

"Sleep easy, soldier." More than a soldier, Johnny was the son he never had.

"See you down range, brother... we'll take it from here."

"Rest easy, my friend. You’ll never be forgotten." You fought off the urge to call him your love, your soulmate, yet they all knew what was in your mind.

"Rest in peace, Johnny." The words barely came out of his lips. It was like losing Tommy all over again. Simon opens the urn and lets the wind take Johnny's ashes, flying away, freeing his soul. You all look at him go and you manage to let a small smile take over your lips, watching proudly as he flies away, despite knowing he took a part of your soul with him.

Simon and you stay behind, knowing Price and Gaz will be waiting in the car for you. You slowly sink down to your knees, hands resting on your lap. It doesn't take long before Simon kneels behind you, hands gathering your hair before he begins to braid.

Revenge. Death. Vengeance.

His free hand pulls out a combat knife that belonged to Soap, lining up the razor sharp blade to your hair. With one smooth motion, he slides through the hair easily, letting the now shoulder length strands fall free. He places the braid on your lap and you look down at it, eventually letting the hair go down the cliff the same way you let go of Johnny.

You never let go of grief— you grow around it. And despite the agony your soul is in, you know these three men will do anything for you, the same way you'll do anything for them.

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zoeykallus · 5 months

Text

I just woke up from a very vivid fever dream involving Tech and thought I had to capture it. So I decided to make it an X - Reader one-shot and fill in the usual Dream-gaps. If you find any mistakes, feel free to keep them, my fever is high enough to fry eggs on my ribcage, so I'm assuming some typos must have crept in. I file this under 'slightly complicated Fluff'. It might be a little silly too, after all, it was a fever dream.

Tech x Fem!Reader – One-Shot – Distractions

Warnings: Annoying Crosshair/Idiots in Love

________

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some cough syrup)

You see Tech working on the Marauder outside, sit down near him on one of the many boxes of spare parts standing around him, and watch him for a while. He is fully concentrated, hasn't even noticed your presence yet, is completely in his element, in a focused tunnel, while he works. When you finally ask, "What are you doing?" Startled, he straightens up a little too quickly, bumps his head on the outer hull of the ship and rubs his head with a soft sigh. Tech finally turns to you and looks at you briefly, pushing his goggles up the bridge of his nose with a nimble finger. "Replace a few burnt-out parts, our last mission didn't leave the Marauder unscathed" He frowns briefly, then says before turning back to his work, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't always sneak up on me like that" You smirk and look at the back of his head, as he has turned back around when you say, "I'm not sneaking, you're just hyper-focused again" You hear him sigh softly again. As he loosens one of the charred pieces he says, "Maybe, but you could have cleared your throat" "Maybe I should put a bell on my neck," you joke amusedly. Tech comments, "That would work too, but after a while it would probably be annoying for you and those around you"

You watch him in silence for a little while, then offer, "Want me to take a look at your head?" Tech pauses for a moment and asks, "Why should you?" You roll your eyes with a smile and say, "Because it's pretty, but mostly because you hit it" He glances over his shoulder very briefly, but long enough for you to see how his cheeks have taken on a slightly rosy tint. "I'm fine," Tech waves it off, continues working, stretches out his hand and says, "Better pass me the welding blaster" You glance over the scattered tools and grab the only one that looks anything like a welding blaster. Tech doesn't complain when you pass it to him, so it must be the right one. You ask him curious questions for a while, not necessarily because you're interested in the tool, more because you want to talk to him, hoping for a conversation. You really like Tech, much more than you wanted to admit to yourself for a while. But Tech is a little... different, it's not so easy to get close to him or make small talk. For a while, he patiently answers all your questions, but from one moment to the next, his tone becomes a little more irritable.

"Do you have to ask me all these questions? I work here and would like to concentrate on my task in peace" You swallow, blink, and don't know what to say at first. Then you suddenly hear Hunter's voice next to you, "You guys all right?" "Sure," you say, forcing yourself to smile briefly and hurrying away, your heart pounding uncomfortably. It stings more than you want to admit that Tech has practically shooed you away. Some distance away, but still in sight, you sit down with your holopad on the speeder you came here with and browse aimlessly around the holonet to keep your hands busy. Tech hears Hunter sigh and turns around. When he sees that you are no longer in your seat, he frowns in surprise. He looks around and finally catches sight of you by your speeder. He blinks, thinking, he hadn't actually wanted to scare you away. Tech actually likes having you around, but you're the only person who manages to distract him, to break his concentration, which he can't handle too well. When he hears your voice, his whole mind is automatically occupied with listening to you, recognizing nuances, soaking them up like a sponge, enjoying them. However, this is a hindrance at work.

Tech senses that Hunter is looking at him and returns his gaze. The squad leader stands there, his arms crossed in front of his chest, the typical expression on his face that he always has when something interpersonal has gone over Tech's head. "You know you hurt her?" Hunter asks quietly, patiently. Tech sighs, "I do now" Hunter puts a hand on his shoulder and says, "'Brother, I'm certainly no expert, but I think she really likes you. And judging by the way you react to her sometimes, albeit often very subtly, you like her too." Tech turns the tool in his hands and watches you from a distance for a while, unsure. He shrugs and says, "Well, I was able to rule out a virus" Hunter frowns questioningly. "I don't understand" Tech explains in his typical matter-of-fact tone, "My body and mind react to her, I get warm around her, her voice throws me off balance, her laugh tingles under my skin. To be honest, at first I thought these were symptoms of illness" Hunter raises his eyebrows and suppresses a grin, then clears his throat and says, "Now I understand. Well, maybe you should go over to her. Talk to her."

Your attention is stubbornly focused on the holopad in your hand, you don't look up once, even though you sense that you are being watched. You don't look up either when you hear footsteps and finally Tech clearing his throat. When you don't respond, he says uncertainly, "I'm sorry I snapped at you" "Okay," you say calmly. Somehow Tech was expecting a different reaction, or more, because he's still standing there staring at you while you stare at your holopad, which is currently showing an advertisement for some instant meal. "Are you mad at me?" he suddenly asks, so uncertainly that you almost look up from your holopad. "No, Tech," you say a little more gently. "I don't believe you" Surprised, you look up and look at him. You look at each other in silence for what feels like an eternity. Crosshair walks past in the background and grumbles, "Kiss each other already, nobody can watch this anymore" You both look briefly in his direction, but the Sniper doesn't even stop to wait for your reaction. Tech yells after him, "That interjection was uncalled for!"

"Was it?" you ask quietly. Tech very slowly turns back to you. "Excuse me?" You blink, look at his face, and your courage leaves you again. You wave it off. "Oh, nothing." Tech sighs and sits down next to you on the speeder, his long legs reaching down to the ground, while yours are slightly bent and resting on the footboard of the speeder. After a while, you hear him say, "At the risk of embarrassing myself and making myself look vulnerable, I'd like to confess something to you" You turn your head in his direction to look at him. He swallows as he realizes he has your full attention. He finally opens his mouth and says, "I like you" You can't help but smile automatically. "How much?" you ask again, much more boldly.

Tech blinks, he hadn't expected this question. "You want a measurable comparison?" he asks, surprised. You nod with a grin. Tech slightly blushes and says, "Okay, you don't seem angry anymore, that's a good start. Let me think for a minute." "Okay. Take your time." Suddenly, his eyes light up, and you realize that he has just found a way to tell you how much he likes you. "Remember, you once asked me what the best thing about being part of this squad was?" You nod and say, "Yeah, you said the Marauders and flying it" Tech clears his throat and his cheeks turn rosy again as he says, "I like you more than the Marauders, and more than flying" You beam at him, and you know he's going to start arguing with you and yet you say, "I like you even more" Tech pauses, he smiles but then says matter-of-factly, "That's not possible" "Of course it is," you insist, amused.

You discuss back and forth for a while, comparing how much you like each other and Tech even makes calculations in the end. Crosshair, meanwhile, is standing behind you, more or less sneaking up on you and listening to you, arms crossed in front of his chest, rolling his eyes every few seconds. Tech shows you his holopad, "See, my probability calculation contradicts your assumption" You show him yours on which you have drawn a heart in a paint program and say, "And mine contradicts your calculation" Tech frowns, "That's a heart, not a-" "HEY!" Crosshair's loud exclamation makes you both jump off the speeder, startled, and Tech automatically shoves you behind him protectively. Tech snorts, "Was that really necessary?" Crosshair looks at you with his piercing gaze and says, "Didn't I tell you two to kiss?" "You're rude," you say, still recovering from your shock. "Tell me something new," Crosshair says dryly, "For example, that you kissed each other." "That's none of your business," says Tech indignantly.

"So no," the Sniper says, rolling his eyes and backing away again. You look up at Tech and say, "Maybe we really should?" He blinks several times then asks uncertainly, "Kiss?" As you nod, Tech licks his lips, wondering if he's used his lip balm today, how many hours it's been since he brushed his teeth and if he's eaten anything since then. While his thoughts are still running nervously over each other, he feels your fingers gently reach into the collar of his Blacks that sticks out of the top of his armor and pull him in your direction. Suddenly his head is completely empty, but his heart is beating incredibly fast and his pulse is racing. At the same moment his warm lips gently touch yours, somewhere in the distance you hear Crosshair shout, "GET A ROOM YOU TWO!"

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