im-a-killer-queen

[im-a-killer-queen]

[im-a-killer-queen]

what about a fic where he 141 are dealing with something Big; information is doctored, intel is wrong, enemies have infiltrated and fucked up the TFs intelleigence. they're in danger, the mission is compromised, their safety is compromised. someone is feeding them false information and they don't have any idea until it'll be too late.

up on the screen is your face, big red letters plastered over a picture of you indicated that you're a threat. you're associated with the enemy, how could that be possible?

simon is reeling - you're not even involved in the military or anything. you're a civilian, a librarian. a shy, quiet little thing that had looked like you were gonna faint right then and there when simon riley stood at your counter with a stack of books for the first time.

you couldn't possibly be involved. but the intel couldn't be wrong.

soap, gaz, and price all give him sickeningly pitiful looks like they feel sorry for the fool for falling for your tricks. simon is seething.

when you're awoken by a loud crash of your front door being broken down, you don't even get the chance to see who your assailants are before a black hood is shoved over your head. the ringing in your ears and your utter panic keep you from hearing the familiar voice of your husband calling you a traitor. you don't hear the sounds of the men you've grown to love na trust over the years discussing how they have to punish you...torture a confession out of you for this vile act that they have no idea is false information ):

[im-a-killer-queen]

Lieutenant Price who can’t keep his eyes off of you at the bar, cheeks red with heat and want that he can’t even begin to tame

Lieutenant Price who takes an extra shot of rum before shooting his shot

“This seat taken?”

“Depends,” you reply, looking over the clean-shaven man who stands before you, “You buying?”

Lieutenant Price who wrings his hands behind his back as he confidently asks you out, right up until you say ‘yes’

Lieutenant Price who tries his best to be a gentleman when he gets between the sheets.

Lieutenant Price who groans and grunts as he feeds his cock into your cunt, trying with every ounce of his will not to shove himself in up to the hilt before you’re stretched and ready

“Mm—god, darling,” he manages, shaking with the force it takes to hold himself back, “You’re so tight…god, I can fuckin’ see myself in your stomach…”

…

Captain Price who isn’t afraid to let his eyes linger on you when he takes u to the bar with his boys—likes it when you know that he’s always watching, that he’s always hungry

Captain Price who buys you an extra shot of rum before pulling you into his lap in the middle of the bar, feeding it to you while he blows cigar smoke out the side of his mouth

“C’mon, darling,” he drawls, “Drinks on me. Another one won’t hurt.”

Captain Price who brazenly slips his hands under the waistband of your pants right then and there, rasping a slow invitation back to his place while he pushes his fingers in and out of your slick folds

Captain Price who’s so far gone he can’t act like a gentleman anymore

Captain Price who hustles you into the bar’s bathroom and hastily locks the door, before he all but rips his belt out of his belt loops

Captain Price who holds you down against the bathroom countertop. He bullies his aching dick into your swollen pussy, yanking you by the hair just to keep you in place underneath him

“Sit still, love,” he spanks you, grabbing a harsh handful of your ass right after, “Behave, and I might just let you lick me clean when this is all over.”

[im-a-killer-queen]

what if viking!simon x reader haven’t kissed at all since their wedding? like they’re having all the sex and stuff but they still haven’t kissed yet (maybe simon doesn’t think to bc he thinks he’s still just fulfilling a need and not seeing it as something intimate w reader, and reader is too shy to ask)

but then they finally do (maybe during sex maybe not) and it’s a lightbulb moment for both of them and he just turns to mush 🫠 like you said - it’s like a scratch behind his ear, like he realises she’s actually likes/loves him

(sorry i love fluffy slightly angsty smut to my core)

thank you! x

god I just want a little kiss okay? just a little one as a treat

c/w: sex, doggy style, simon’s wife just wants a lil kiss

he just doesn’t get it. why would you ask him for such a thing? it’s too intimate, he thinks to himself as his cock pumps in and out of your cunt from behind. too much, he continues in his head after planting one foot on the edge of the mattress for leverage as he picks up the pace. very complicated.

it doesn’t seem odd to him that the two of you fuck regularly with no romantic strings attached. yes, you’re husband and wife but you aren’t in love. the sex is just the two of you fulfilling a need. scratching each other’s itch, is the way he likes to put it

he’s tempted to tell you no. to shut down your childlike fantasies of love and romance with no remorse. but you look so pretty like this, he thinks. on your hands and knees in his bed, head turned to the side to look up with pleading eyes, mouth moving to spill out more pleas and begs for just a kiss husband, please

so he leans down, one hand tangled in your hair to keep you pinned to the mattress, to slot his lips against yours. it’s far from a loving, gentle kiss. it’s raw. desperate. his tongue is tangled with yours. no care of wether you give him permission or not

it’s only when he feels the way your cunt clamps around him in a way he’s never felt before, the way your body slumps against the mattress and melts against his brute frame, and the pretty way you moan out his name. moan out for more…

only then does he understand

[im-a-killer-queen]

Desperately in search of fic recs where Reader accidentally calls him "Daddy" instead of "Sir" when on the other end of this look.

[im-a-killer-queen]

when I was a little kid at some point I got upset with my parents because I didn't have a crucifix in my bedroom and they did- I was like why do YOU get to be safe from vampires??? you're okay with me getting my blood sucked???? so we took a little trip to the catholic store but the one closest to us was run by a group of nuns that had been moved here from romania. I got a little baby pink cross and this sweet old nun was like 'aww, is this a baptism gift?' and I was like no. I need to be protected from vampires. and she immediately got SO serious and was like 'this is the best one we've got, you'll definitely be safe' and since she was literally from vampire land I was convinced she was like, van helsing. like the whole time my parents had been laughing about how cute my fear was but she literally Knew dracula and was taking my concerns seriously I held this over my parents for so long lmfao

[im-a-killer-queen]

people telling you they reread your fic is the biggest compliment you could ever receive. there are thousands of stories out there begging to be found, to be explored, but your story meant so much to someone that they came back to it eagerly, they went over every word again. to love is to return and loving a fic is rereading it. thank you to all readers and rereaders <3333

[im-a-killer-queen]

Reblog if you write fic and people can inbox you random-ass questions about your stories, itemized number lists be damned.

[im-a-killer-queen]

Soap : I think Price mixed up our lunches. Look.

[holds up a post-it note that says "I'm proud of you and I love you so much."]

Gaz : Oh, that explains this.

[holds up a post-it note that says "Please be good. For the love of God, be good."]

[im-a-killer-queen]

Y/N: L is for the way you look at me Gaz: O is for the only one I see Soap: V is very, very extraordinary Ghost: E is for everyone shut the fuck up it's 2am go to sleep before I kill you all

[im-a-killer-queen]

Hello please reblog this if you’re okay with people sending you random asks to get to know you better

[im-a-killer-queen]

Levi: “ I hate you with every-inch of my body”

Y/n: “well, for you that’s not a lot of inches-“

[im-a-killer-queen]

"Not even the Gulag could stop the head that I'd give that man if I was given the chance."

Ghost absolutely hears you say this about him.

To Roach and Gaz.

Who are entirely speechless by your brazenness to just say the most outta pocket things to them sometimes.

"You can just keep some stuff to yourself." is Gaz's polite suggestion.

Roach nodding in the background with his lil antennae bouncing on his helmet, 'preach brother' is his sole thought.

They loved you like a sister but good god that came with consequences.

Meaning them having to listen to you go on and on and on about how you wanted your lieutenant.

[im-a-killer-queen]

Gaz: So why do you do your paper work in the gym? Y/N, sipping iced coffee whilst watching Ghost do hip thrusts: For the aesthetic? I dunno

[im-a-killer-queen]

can't stop thinking about king!gojo who is so strict and intimidating in his court. the whole kingdom is scared of him. when he walks in the room, the chatters immediately silence as if you could hear even a pin drop clearly. when he speaks, everyone holds their breath and only exhale when the king is done with his sentence. his voice is not loud or hoarse either. it's mellow and alluring. but people know behind that sugar laced voice, is someone who shows no mercy who does him wrong. people have seen him behead his enemies within five seconds in the conversation. he spares none. he is ruthless. but you...

you are his weakness. his queen. no one knows what happens behind the castle's door. no one knows how he gets on his knees, kissing up your ankle to your thigh as he slowly lifts your night gown. no one knows how he is pleading you to let him have a taste of you. kissing it and licking it. nobody knows how their ruthless king has your thighs choking him as he eats you. the same voice that sends shivers down everyone's spine is now begging you to make a mess on his face. if someone were to glance at your window, they'd see his pale face glistening in your juices in the candlelights, blood rushed to his nose and cheeks like he has taken an aphrodisiac. your hands tugging his white strands. you take your hand back before you pull too hard and hurt him but he yanks your wrist forward, placing them back on his head. he looks up at you, parting his face from your core.

"pull till you see tears in my eyes. it is an order."

fuck. king's order. what choice do you have despite following it.

[im-a-killer-queen]

IV A New World

Chapter 1: Lost Bird

The heat from the sun baked the dirt into a hard layer, the breeze lifted small clouds of sand into the air. The flames from the smouldering engines of the plane didn’t cool things down either. No matter where you went, it burned you. Blood painted throughout the plane creating its hellish home of pain and misfortune. A faint rustling was heard from inside the remains; it sounded like it came from something small. Maybe a small animal decided to seek shelter, but even an animal wouldn’t stay somewhere like this. An intricate web of wires trapped anything that remained to be devoured by a slow death while claws of metal scraped painfully if it tried to move. The rustling grew louder as something wiggled to get out. A bloodied hand reached out into the flaming air as it tried to grab something to help in its endeavour. Landing on a broken arm rest, the hand slowly pulled a body out of the pile, it looked weak and fragile. It held onto the arm rest as it tried to stand, shaking as it held itself up only to buckle and land to its knees. Looking closer at themselves, there were several cuts and gashes on their hands, their arms, their face. There wasn’t a sliver of skin that wasn’t covered in sticky blood and dirt. They coughed and hacked as they tried to breathe, everything was painful. BOOM! The second engine of the plane fell off and filled whatever clean air was available with thick, dark smoke. It spread through as if a curtain of death fell over the crashed plane, as if it were trying to drop any survivors. The body did its best to crawl its way out of the curtain. The pain and fear were catching up to them as the smoke began to wrap a dark hand over everything, choking it. Its grip tightening the more the body tried to move. The body tried to wrangle away from it, but its grip became deathly as the smoke thickened with every breath they took. The smoke began to fill their lungs as the body inched closer to the exit. Moving closer and closer with every laboured breath. Wires crackled and sparked as the body brushed against them. Hissing in pain, they pushed forward, keeping their survival at the forefront of their mind.

:read more:

A loud gasp was the only sound the body made before looking at the expanse of blue above them. Curious eyes taking in the hellish confinement they just escaped and the sandy wasteland around them, the golden cliffs and dunes around them, a white dot in the sky lighting everything on fire. They rolled on their back trying to relieve the ache in their muscles. After a few minutes, the body sat up as the blood began to dry under the scathing heat of the sun, their once blue hoodie now turned a sort of mauve colour sticking to them, the once white shirt becoming a vibrant red with smudges of sandy muck. Their black jeans leaving red imprints on the ground as their converse shoes smeared a sandy-bloody mess when they moved. Their breathing staggered as mucus and spit left heir mouth in a coughing fit. Pain shot through their bones as they tried to sit up, so they weren’t staring at the sun. It was tiring to move, even if it were to breathe. Their eyes watched as smoke billowed in the air, an inky smudge against the tranquil blue. They tried to peel the crusty jacket off their body, grinding their teeth as they wanted to remove it carefully without causing any irritation to the cuts that were present. However, some of them began to itch and it was unbearable to resist scratching them.

Using sharp metal scrap, the body tried to cut up the hoodie to create makeshift bandages. Shakily creating jagged strips of mauve cloth, they tried to wrap them carefully around the deepest wounds and tighten them. A cry of agony shot through the air like a flare as they screamed as they tightened the bandages one by one. Tears rolled down their cheeks as they continued, smearing dirt further down their face. The sun was retreating as the body finished covering their wounds, slowly pain was replaced by fatigue as their eyes began to close. They slowly fell to the floor again and let themselves fall asleep. 

The flames died a little the next morning, the smoke was steadily rising into the air. The body woke from its slumber using any energy to hold themselves up against the cool metal sheets of the plane. They looked around their surroundings as their eyes could scan the area better. They were stranded. Nothing within their line of sight for miles. Pure emptiness around them. They clambered into the plane to find anything to help them survive the outside. Finding unopened water bottles and first aids kits, the body attempted to try to clean their wounds so they wouldn’t have any issues later on. Once they finished applying fresh bandages on their wounds, they looked for any medicine to help with the ache in their bones. Trying to heal in a plane crash was kind of hard, there were only so many supplies that weren’t ruined by blood or other muck, while on this medicine-hunting adventure did the body truly open its eyes to the horrors it went through a day ago. The piles of bodies littered all around, the limbs that were scattered. The blood painted on the walls like a scream of horror etched into the plane's walls. The stench of rotting bodies filling their senses, for some their skin was burned and charred for others they were missing body parts entirely. It was gruesome. How it happened was also as equally terrifying. It hurt almost remembering it. 

The bodies, in their lifeless forms, had thousands of stories to tell. Even as one story would overshadow the rest, their cultures and beliefs painted in their souls. Their faiths were glittering ornaments worn to worship a ray of hope that will grant their troubled souls peace. Parents encapsulated their young, shielding them from whatever danger was falling upon them. However, the horrors were strong enough to break those shields. 

Among the bodies, three stood out. The bodies wore vests, the kind of vests you’d see soldiers' wear. Tearing their eyes away from the three bodies, the body remembered the past events screaming through their mind, cries for help echoing through the ghostly plane. Fear hung heavily through the air. The ghostly voices of victims praying, the cries of the children as the world they knew as safe was stripped from them. The bloodthirsty eyes of the men chanting their creed as if it were an absolute truth. As if it was as true as two plus two equals four. It was etched on their minds that this view that was thrust on them was the only view. The right view, and all others were the work of some other evil force. They held on to these beliefs as if it were the rope holding them from falling into the deepest cavern. Their vest beeped, providing a menacing tempo for their rhythmic chants. 

Everything happened so quickly, one moment passengers were fussing over when they were going to land and then the next victims were screaming, shouting, shrieking for their lives. Some ducking under their seats, some too terrified to move. The body watched the blood-soaked memories replay in their mind as the sun drew itself closer to the highest point in the sky. Human gunk squelched under their shoes as they stumbled their way through the pile of unfinished stories. They scavenged for other medical supplies from soaked canvas bags, a flicker of a memory flooded their mind, flight attendants attempted to help some of the injured, the angry demands of the “soldiers” roared through through the plane. The body stumbled as waves of horrifying visions remained them that these hellish red walls were never meant to be red at all. Birds can hunt but they can also die. The air hung heavy with grief, gut-wrenching terrors anchored its claws into the body’s memories. It’s talons shredding sanity the more they remembered. Their mouth hung open in a silent scream, their eyes wide and scared as everything that had happened began to sink its talons even further. They buckled and landed on their knees, medicine packs cutting white streaks into their palms. Soon the ice-cold sea of shock left them as a fiery storm of anger and purpose filled their veins, electrifying vengeance sparked through their nerves. The body felt as if it was their duty as the last survivor to carry these restless souls of the innocent to peace. Wherever that maybe and whoever will help them there. The body carried this energy to pull them forward and gather supplies, a satchel to carry their items, torn maps, medicine, pens, their journal, snack bars and water. Anything and everything that would help them make it out of this chaotic mess of broken ideals alive.

After a traumatic evening, the body set out in the morning to find the closest city they could see on the map. The burned edges made it hard to understand some of the names, but nevertheless they had jobs to do; to get home safe and bring the souls wandering the plane the peace they deserve. The body walked further away, the smoky scent stuck to their clothes like a perfume of terror. However, they had the odd feeling that they left something behind. Something important, something worth keeping. Several self-checks later, they seemed sure that they didn’t leave anything behind. They trudged forward, heading off into the horizon with an iron-will in their arsenal.

They did leave something behind, something that would let the match that lit the plane on fire right back to them. A maroon leather book engraved with gold lettering on its cover belonging to a girl named Aras Mir.

[im-a-killer-queen]

Always the writer, never the reader.