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#best tactical knife
joebeaudrow · 2 years
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Feast your eyes on the Fabulously gorgeous C-12 made By Kevin Cox over at KC Knives 🔪 This knife is super tough and holds a edge longer than i expected with how hard i have been on it. 🔪 Model: C-12 OAL: 12" or 304mm Blade Length: 61/4" or 158.75mm Steel: Z Wear Hardness: 62 hrc Handle: G-10 Grind: Convex With a Custom Ferro Rod and chest holster 🔪 You guys will see a lot more of this knife real soon. 🔪 ATB Joe Beaudrow https://youtu.be/CL3_rmdPpdQ Instgram.com/Joe_beaudrow ⬇️ ⬇️ ⬇️ ⬇️ KC Knives
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dfackto · 2 months
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3 PIECE ESSENTIAL CHEF KNIFE SET // ORANGE ($49.95)
The Trinity of Knives 8" Chef’s Knife This is the most important knife to have in your kitchen. The Chef’s Knife is usually the first knife you pick up when cooking and the last one to be put down. A Chef’s Knife will work for about 90% of everything you need to do when prepping a meal. With a blade between 6 and 10 inches long, it’s mostly used for chopping. Visit https://dfackto.com/products/3-piece-essential-chef-knife-set-orange for more.
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ellemj · 3 months
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Inevitable: 12 Days of Smut #9
Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot
Summary: While on a mission with Sam, John Walker, and Bucky, you're the only person exposed to a sex pollen. Bucky sure as hell isn't going to let anyone else take care of you.
Warnings: profanity, dubcon (sex pollen), unprotected sex, slight size kink, slight exhibitionism, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 2.9k
A/N: I wrote this fic in an hour and I think it shows lmao. Hopefully tomorrow I can use another one of @mashedpotatooooos inspiring requests, because she sent me one I've been thinking about for days now.
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            You want someone to blame. You want someone to yell at, someone that you can rightfully take all of your anger out on. You want to be able to point your finger and stomp your feet like a child all because this is someone else’s fault. Who do you take your anger out on when an entire organization is to blame? No one. Instead, you do exactly what you’re doing now, which is sitting on the dirty floor with your knees pulled up to your chest as you try to come up with a plan. You’re the only one that was exposed, the only one that’s about to go through physiological and psychological hell. Sam and John Walker were still securing the perimeter of the compound when you stupidly ran your fingertip along the fine powdery substance that was sprinkled along the walls and floor of the small holding cell. It was even more stupid of you to rub the powder together between your thumb and forefinger before sniffing it for any trace of a scent. As soon as you inhaled the microscopic particles, you let out a cough, your throat immediately feeling scratchy. Bucky was behind you in an instant, grabbing you by the elbow and tugging you away from the holding cell. When his eyes fell to your hand and he saw the white powder along your fingertips, he knew you’d gotten yourself into some serious shit. Before he even had a chance to alert Sam and Walker via comms, you were placing your clean hand on his chest and shoving him away from you hard. He stumbled backward two steps, but kept his eyes trained on your face. Your cheeks were pink, which he assumed was from the small coughing fit you’d just had, but having no idea what you were exposed to, it could’ve been from whatever drug it was that HYDRA left all over the surface of that holding cell. How could you have been so reckless?
            You sit with your head resting on your knees and your eyes squeezed shut, trying to drown out the incessant voice of John Walker. He’s been going on and on for over a minute now about what he thinks is the best way to handle the little predicament you’ve found yourselves in.
            “We don’t even know what she was exposed to, Sam. You and Bucky should stay here and finish the mission, I’ll take her back to the quinjet and see if we can figure this out. There has to be some sort of testing equipment or something there.” Of course, Walker wants to leave with you. Bucky catches himself clenching his right fist, while his left hand rests dangerously close to where his knife is sheathed along the side of his tactical pants. Bucky isn’t letting Walker do shit with you.
            “I’m not going anywhere.” You say defiantly, finally picking your head up and looking at the three men who are maintaining their distance from you. You threatened to lock yourself in the contaminated holding cell if they didn’t stay at least ten feet away from you, so that’s about how far they all are from you now. “He’s right, we don’t know what I was exposed to, but I’m not leaving this building until we find out what it was.” It’s the smartest thing you can do. For all you know, it could be some sort of biological warfare shit and you’re not about to go down in history as patient X. You’re staying put.
---
            It’s less than fifteen minutes later when the symptoms have begun to set in and you’re actually considering locking yourself in the holding cell. It started out almost unnoticeable, with your heart rate steadily increasing and your body temperature rising to an uncomfortable degree. You chalked it up to being nervous about whatever unknown substance might be coursing through your veins. Soon after, all you wanted was to take your clothes off and soak in an ice bath. This was partially because of the sheer heat your body was radiating from the inside out, but also because you felt some kind of surge of adrenaline making you feel like you could run fifteen miles with ease.
            “She isn’t herself, she’s definitely feeling something but she’s not going to let any of us get close enough to look her over.” Sam says to Bruce, who’s currently seated in a SHIELD laboratory, searching through various HYDRA experiment files to figure out what substance you might’ve been exposed to.
            “Well, one of you is going to have to try, because without knowing the basics of at least a physical exam, I can’t rule any of these compounds out. It’s a guessing game without more information.”
            “I’ll do it. She’ll let me.” Walker’s confidence nearly makes Bucky and Sam both burst out laughing.
            “Who the hell do you think you are, man? She isn’t going to let you do shit.” Sam chuckles, looking at Walker out of the corner of his eye. Walker scoffs and shakes his head, clearly disagreeing with Sam.
            “C’mon, she can be reasonable.” Walker argues. Of course you can be reasonable, you’re almost always reasonable. But this more than likely isn’t one of the almost-always instances, and if Walker really thinks Bucky is going to let him do any sort of physical exam on you, he’s sorely mistaken.
            “I’ll do it. I was right behind her when she was exposed, she knows it’s possible I was exposed too. More possible than either of you having been exposed.” Bucky points out, shooting Walker a death glare before he has a moment to argue. Walker quickly shuts his mouth and remains still in the corridor. The three men stepped out of the small abandoned surveillance room when you started acting like every word they were saying was making your head hurt. Now, Bucky turns around and faces the door, ready to approach you.
            “Just look her skin over everywhere you can, look for any rashes, discolorations, new wounds. Try to get a look at her pupils too, I need to know if they’re bigger than usual or smaller, like pinpoints. Anything you notice that’s out of the ordinary, I need to know about it so I can narrow down the type of chemical it might be.” Bruce’s words echo in the concrete corridor as Bucky palms the door handle and pulls it open with a soft creak.
            As soon as the door shuts behind Bucky, your eyes meet. He can see how uncomfortable you are, how a few stray strands of your hair are sticking to your forehead, how you’re breathing heavier than normal even though you still sit on the floor. It tugs at something within him and suddenly he wishes he was the one who’d walked into that damn holding cell first. Why the hell did he let you go in first? He should’ve been looking out for you.
            “Bruce needs a few questions answered so he can figure out what you were exposed to.” Bucky tries to keep his sentence short and to the point. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you and give you a reason to kick him out, so he’s treading carefully. He’s honestly surprised that you haven’t told him to leave yet. As his eyes roam over your small frame, he can see that you’re miserable. At this point, you’re too miserable to argue with him. You simply nod, agreeing to whatever it is that Bruce wants him to do. Bucky tilts his head over to an empty metal desk pushed up against a side wall, and you quickly understand that he wants you to sit on it so he can get a look at you. You push yourself up off of the floor slowly, knowing you won’t be very steady on your feet. Not only are you beginning to feel lightheaded, but it feels like every nerve ending in your entire body is on fire. Your skin is simultaneously freezing cold while being burning hot, and there’s a sharp, stinging pain somewhere deep in your stomach.
            Noticing how unsteady you are, Bucky moves across the room wraps an arm around you, guiding you over to the desk. After helping you sit on top of it, he can’t stop himself from pushing those few stray hairs away from your face and cupping your chin with his right hand. You feel hot to the touch, definitely feverish. Your eyes flutter closed as you focus on the feel of his skin against your chin, but Bucky believes it to be a reaction to whatever pain you’re feeling right now. He notes that your pupils looked much bigger than normal before you closed your eyes. He also notes that your cheeks are flushed, your heart is beating so hard that he can nearly count your pulse rate where the skin lies over your carotid artery in your neck, and you’re keeping one hand on your lower stomach.
            “Do you have any spots, anything on your skin?” Bucky’s voice is quiet, but he keeps his hand underneath your chin. It almost feels like you’re leaning into his touch, though he can’t be sure. You finally open your eyes again and look up at him. You’re ready to say something like I don’t fucking know, I’m in full tactical gear, but speaking a sentence that long feels like way too much effort right now. So, instead, you pull your shirt off and drop it on the floor. Bucky averts his gaze instantly, not wanting to be intrusive and look at you with only a bra covering your top half.
            “You have to check, Bucky. The lights are killing me.” Your words come out as a meek whisper. Of course the lights are killing you, your pupils are so blown that they’re letting in every tiny bit of light. When the super soldier finally looks back down at you, his jaw clenches as his eyes coast over your bare neck, shoulders, and the central part of your chest. He doesn’t see a single imperfection. He looks further down your torso, past your black sports bra, over the contours of your waist and abdomen. Nothing. Nothing but smooth, perfect skin, slightly glistening with a sheen of sweat. “I think I know what this is.”
            “How?” Bucky’s eyes lift to meet your gaze once again, but this time, you look more conflicted than uncomfortable.
            “Touch me.” Bucky has a million questions. He wants to know what you think this is, why you want him to touch you. He’s ready to ask every question that’s swirling around his head, and you can see that he sure as hell isn’t about to touch you on his own accord, so you take matters into your own hands. It’s the quickest way you can think of to prove that your assumption is correct. You reach out and take his flesh hand in yours, guiding it up to your face and pressing his palm flat against your cheek. A soft whimper leaves your lips as soon as you feel the warmth from his contact. Bucky stiffens, but doesn’t pull his hand away from you.
            “What is it?” He demands to know.
            “HYDRA was experimenting with ways to produce more super soldiers without needing great amounts of the original serum. They thought they could get super soldiers to breed, to produce offspring with all of the same strengths and abilities.” It takes a few seconds for Bucky’s mind to wrap around exactly what you’re saying, but as soon as it does, he’s already made a choice. He’ll help you. He’ll do it. He’ll do what he knows needs to be done to give you as much relief as he possibly can. There isn’t another word spoken between the two of you as Bucky steps away from you and crosses the room, turning the lock on the door.
            Out in the corridor, Sam and Walker hear the door lock and look at each other with a mix of confusion and concern.
            “One of them just locked the door.” Sam says to Bruce. Bruce sighs heavily before taking a long pause. “Bruce, what the hell is this?”
            “You’re in a facility where HYDRA scientists would induce super soldier reproduction. I’m guessing Y/n and Bucky have figured that out.”
---
            The desk won’t hold the weight of you both, Bucky’s damn sure of that. Which is why he has you lying on your back with your legs dangling off of it as he stands between your legs and unbuckles his tactical pants.
            “You don’t have to do this, Bucky. I could—”
            “You said it’s the only way, and I’m sure as hell not letting Sam or Walker do it, so I’m doing it.” Bucky snaps, shoving his pants down enough to free his already hardening cock. He’s lucky you’re in such a miserable state right now, otherwise you might’ve sat up and tried to sneak a peek at his dick and noticed how it already stood erect for you. He wasn’t getting off on you being in such a bad situation, but as soon as you told him that you needed someone to do this for you, his cock decided it was going to him. He wraps his fist around the base and strokes forward, toward the tip a couple of times as he watches you shimmy your own pants down your legs. You have them nearly down to your knees when you let out a cry of pain, quickly letting go of the pants and clutching at your stomach. Your eyes are still screwed shut as Bucky finishes pulling your pants down to your ankles and then gets you into the only position he can think of in this moment. He lifts both of your legs up, keeping them together, and rests them over his right shoulder. He’s careful not to even give himself the chance to look between your legs. He won’t do it, not like this. He stares down at your scrunched up face as he moves closer to you and lets the head of his cock slide up and down between your folds, gathering your wetness along his shaft.
            “Bucky, please.” You moan out, your back arching off of the desk and eyes opening to look up at him. When the two of you make eye contact, the head of his cock notches into your entrance and he pumps into you slowly. “Fuck, it’s so big.”
            Fucking hell. Why did you have to say something like that? Bucky stills when he’s only halfway inside you, feeling how tight you are compared to how thick his length is. He knows it must be hurting you, but you continue to stare up at him, with both pain and pleasure flashing in your eyes.
            “Don’t stop, I can take it.” You promise. Bucky’s hands grip your hips and he gives you another inch, watching how your face contorts at the way he’s stretching your entrance.
            “Stop saying shit like that.” He warns you through gritted teeth. That’s the moment you realize Bucky might have a bit of a size kink. It’s not at all where your head should be at right now. You should be focused on finding relief and getting this chemical out of your system as fast as possible. But, something within you tells you to keep going.
            “But it’s so fucking big.” You moan again, trying to relax as he pushes the rest of his length inside of you. The needy sound that rips through your chest when he bottoms out inside of you echoes in the empty room, and Bucky has no doubt that Sam and Walker both heard it. A dark idea enters his mind as he slowly drags his cock back out of you. John fucking Walker. He’s been after you since day one, that little prick. This could be Bucky’s only chance to show him that he’ll never have you, especially not like this. Like you would possibly give Walker a chance after being fucked by Bucky. Instead of thrusting into you slowly this time, giving you ample time to adjust, Bucky slams into you hard. “Fuck! Bucky, it’s too big, oh my god.” You cry out.
            Sam and Walker are frozen in shock as they stand in the corridor, listening to the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin and you moaning about how big Bucky’s cock is as you take every inch of it. As soon as Bucky let out his first grunt, Sam couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed Walker by the front of his shirt and dragged him out of the building.
            “This is fucking bullshit, Sam. This is so unprofessional.” Walker whines, wanting nothing more than to storm back in and rip Bucky off of you.
            “Shut the hell up, John. We know you think you’re hot shit, but honestly, she was never going to give you a chance. It was always going to happen this way.”
            “What do you mean? You knew this was going to happen?” Walker asks, unable to hide the anger edging his tone.
            “I didn’t know it’d be in an abandoned HYDRA lab or within my own earshot, but yeah, everyone knew they were going to fuck eventually.”
            Not only did the two of you fuck, but Bucky made sure to spill every drop of his cum so deep inside of you that it’d be dripping out into your tactical pants for the rest of the mission.
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ew-selfish-art · 7 months
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DPxDC AU: Tim receives an interesting email from DalvCo explaining why the CEO is not to be trusted- It's an internal email and suddenly Tim is experiencing supernatural phenomena. He knows that the two events are absolutely related, but he's going to let the cutie stumble his way through data points and vague threats anyway.
(Sorry this got long lmao)
Tim is exhausted after a long night of staking out a new drug cartel with Hood (which in itself took a lot of energy from both of them to have the patience for the other- things are good, not great)... so right now he's logging into his WE email on the train to his office because he's incredibly late. And while he scrolls and contemplates the failsafes he has to make sure Tam doesn't murder him outright- he sees an unexpected email from Vladimir Masters.
Tim's curiosity is piqued, he'd thought that Vlad would have gotten the hint after Tim dismissed him at that Christmas gala a few years ago. Most people took Tim's snubbing as a fatality in the Gotham socialite scene- Most knew him to be 'an agreeable young man', and Tim's reputation had paid a small price for making Vlad's failed vibe check known to the room. The tabloids blamed it on the champagne glass he had in his hand- Has he mentioned how much he hates Vicky Vale lately??
Tim has a few stops to go and he's pretty sure that he's going to delete the email, but in sleep deprived inspiration, he decides it might as well entertain him while he waits. The letter isn't at all what he expected.
"Hello Wayne Enterprise's CEO Tim Drake, I'm sending you this letter on behalf of the entire Midwest to advise that you, under no circumstances, come into contact with or speak to the CEO of DalvCo Vlad Masters. He is underhanded and utilizes untraceable tactics to procure deals. We have reason to believe you may be targeted in the next few days and hope that you are able to take steps for your own safety to avoid Vlad Masters at all costs.
Sincerely, 👑"
Tim feels bewildered for a moment and then... Like a cat with a new toy mouse. A game was afoot! He needed to track down these hackers, he needed to be their best fucking friend (find out their secrets & Vlads) and he needed to apprehend Vlad ASAP! Untraceable tactics? Tim scoffs, but the challenge excites him.
Arriving at WE, Tam looks ready to throw a knife his way (he reminds her that Pru does it better) and states that if Vlad Masters tries to make an appointment- accept it but give him the run around. Make an appointment and continue to contest it, change it, delay it until Tim is actually ready for him. The lights start to flicker, both of them notice it.
Everytime Tim gets a second to investigate Vlad in his office, the room's temperature drops. Tim notices it, and having experienced a number of supernatural phenomena, he knows it has to be related.
Tim decides not to beat around the bush. He comes back to the office that night equipped with a Ouija board, candles and a bag of other occult accessories. He quickly finds, upon setting up, that there is now a groaning Teenager in front of him- lambasting his efforts and chastizing him for taking a meeting with Vlad. Did he not get the fuckin memo??
Tim quickly begins to ask his questions, grateful to not have to deal with the party game board, and takes diligent notes.
"Right, so, you're just a concerned citizen ghost who knows what kind of nefarious deeds Vlad gets up to, how?" ---
Danny is losing his shit. Here he is, having done all the ground work to tell this guy not to meet with Vlad and he's already got him on the schedule! Danny took a page from Technus' book and transported himself alongside the short email. He didn't get this guy at all! Tim was like, basically the same age and clearly super fucking smart, why was he acting like this was a fucking birthday gift? Scratch that, the dude has a Ouija Board- it's like a lame ass birthday party in here!
Danny cannot help himself but return to the visible spectrum and give this guy a talking to- Which, the atmosphere of a birthday party still doesn't change, for ancient's sake this guy is taking notes with a megawatt smile! He's smiling! Danny just described Vlad taking down like, three American dynasties and the dude is nodding his head along gleefully.
Then suddenly, Danny realizes that he might be on the chopping block. Tim asks his first question and it's not about Vlad at all.
"Er, yeah. Just a concerned ghost citizen." Danny cringes.
"Right, and that's why you hacked into the Mayor of your town's email... Right Tucker?"
Danny blanches, not because the guy knew about Amity Park, but because apparently Tucker's online persona had been compromised. SHIT.
"Uh, I'm not Tucker." Danny attempts to lie- why was he so bad at lying again?!
"Of course you aren't, he's currently playing doomed, but it would have been smart to take the out I offered you. Do you want to tell me your name or do you want me to throw out another random guess? You should know that I've done my homework."
"...It's Danny."
"Certainly not Danny Fenton? Who is, sorry to say it, heir to DalvCo? The same one who totally doesn't have a school record of absences equivalent to well documented town hauntings?"
"Yep." Danny cringes, and giving up the goat, transforms back into his human self, "But seriously dude, you can't meet with Vlad. He'll just... take it all."
Tim blinks at him a few times, and his cheeks flush. Danny desperately tries to ignore that response as well as his own (he knows his ears are red, sue him).
"Right. Well, how would you like an internship? First order of business would be meeting with me and my PA Tam and helping us play ball." The guy has a feral grin. The grin kind of scares Danny, it definitely annoys him and a small part of him is curiously charmed.
"Dude you're not hearing me-" Danny tries before being cut off.
"Yeah yeah, supernatural bullshit is involved, Got that." Tim waves him off. Okay never mind, not charmed at all, Danny is completely annoyed.
"I swear to all the ancients-" Danny has to stop himself to calm down, "Dude consider yourself fucking haunted. I'm not helping you with a suicide mission to talk to the creep and I will be making your ass miserable for deciding to go down this path."
"Is that a promise?" Tim is basically batting his eyelashes at Danny and Danny is desperately trying to ignore that.
"Bet." And then he goes invisible.
"That's cute, pretending to leave me." Tim smirks and Danny can't help but let out an exasperated groan.
As it turns out, Tim is incredibly difficult to spook and his normal haunting methods are not fucking working. Has this guy just, like, seen every single horror movie?
----
Tim knows this is going to be fun, even if it means not going out as Red Robin for a while... Maybe he should get back into his night photography and give the guy a chance to enhance the creepiness of Gotham? Maybe start going to restaurants alone and get the guy to join him at a secluded two person table? Tim has plans on plans on plans.
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astonmartinii · 6 months
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i hope your finger’s ok!! please take all the time you need and remember you health comes first :) imma be selfish and send you a charles request cause ur writing makes me smile at my phone like an idiot and i can’t help it :p ok so!! charles x versteppen reader? shes max’s sister and drives for redbull (cause im delulu like that) and they’ve been fighting w each other since they were kids (no one knows why they started arguing they’re j petty and refuse to give it up even though they dk what they’re arguing abt anymore) and obvs they’re in love w each other - maybe another drivers flirting w her or smth and charles j snaps and hard launches the reader cause surprise they’ve been dating each other 🤭 holy shit this is long sorry for rambling 🙏🙏
angel baby, devil child | charles leclerc social media au
pairing: charles leclerc x verstappen!reader
enemies to lovers blah blah blah
yourusername
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liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and 1,743,200 others
yourusername: crazy, crazy race. sorry not sorry to the tifosi, tell ur girl @charles_leclerc to kiss my ass not my rear tyre xoxo
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user1: okay they're clearly still in the enemies phase... when can we skip to lovers
user2: i personally love that charles is the mortal enemy of both verstappen siblings that's so slay of him
maxverstappen1: crop me out again and say goodbye to a tow in qualifying
yourusername: sorry maxy, not my fault i got all the photogenic genes xx
maxverstappen1: erm rude @christianhorner tell her to stop bullying me
yourusername: two can play at that game @sebastianvettel tell max to stop being a baby
user3: the way neither christian or seb replied they really don't get paid enough to deal with them
charles_leclerc: what is it with verstappens and their love for pushing me off the track
yourusername: what is it with your front wing and my rear tyre
charles_leclerc: umm i asked you first
yourusername: stop deflecting babe, we all know you love my ass so much you wanted a touch
charles_leclerc: i'd rather deep fry my hands than touch your rear
maxverstappen1: that can be arranged
user4: can't wait for these three to all be in the same press conference next week 🍿
carlossainz55: my favourite person to share the podium with
yourusername: thanks chilli (@tifosi you heard it here sainz is against ferrari 1-2s)
carlossainz55: NO that's not what i meant
landonorris: i see how it is ... god all men are the same AM I NOT PRETTY ENOUGH FOR YOU?
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maxverstappen1
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liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 1,204,809 others
tagged: yourusername
maxverstappen1: happy birthday to my bestest friend, biggest rival and favourite roommate. though maybe now you're 23 you can get your own place so you can sneak out to meet up with your secret boyfriend on your own terms and can keep that massive ballsack away from jimmy and sassy. i love you and verstappen dominance 4 ever.
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user7: i love y/n but i think she should bring her cat to races as a scare tactic
yourusername: wrinkle doesn't appreciate your tone but it is duly noted
yourusername: awwwwwwwww i love you maxy !! and you're never getting rid of your little sister unless you get married and ur a big fat nerd so that's never happening xx
maxverstappen1: attacking me after i just bought you a whole ass car
yourusername: i JOKE. thank you soooo much and you'll never get rid of me you love me too much to anyway.
maxverstappen1: enough to finally introduce me to the mystery man?
yourusername: blocked.
user8: are we all just ignoring her doing her literal eyeliner with a knife?
user9: or the fact that max likely walked in and was like oh wait this is a sick shot
danielricciardo: oh no that was me, i'm still traumatised but it's probably the best photo i've ever taken
yourusername: easy to do with a model like me
charles_leclerc: wtf is that thing in the last one
yourusername: rude of you to think ur balls look any nicer
charles_leclerc: what?
yourusername: what?
user10: does anyone want to elaborate?
carlossainz55: happy birthday y/n !
yourusername: thanks carlos, thank you for the flowers 👍
user11: this is either their way of flirting or y/n really couldn't give a flying fuck about carlos' obvious crush on her
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yourusername
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liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 2,098,560 others
yourusername: another trip around the sun and still following my brother around, difference is now i beat him x
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user16: your honour i am so obsessed with her
maxverstappen1: can't even be angry about it, you deserve the world
yourusername: you softy, i love you
maxverstappen1: also dummy i know who your boyfriend is now did you guys forget that we LITERALLY LIVE TOGETHER
yourusername: i was intoxicated my bad but we bought you breakfast?
maxverstappen1: literally the only reason he hasn't gone over the balcony, he might want to be gone before this hangover wears off
yourusername: noted.
user17: yall want to share with the class?
user18: based on ^^ this reaction i'm going to say it's not carlos
user19: watch out he'll drop a shit pick-up line in a second and be rejected
carlossainz55: hope you enjoyed your birthday beautiful
user20: bro this guy STINKS
user19: i told yall
yourusername: thank you carlos
user21: i'm sorry this is dry as hell it can't be carlos
charles_leclerc: my shoes will never recover, i'll be sending an invoice your way
yourusername: you're a millionaire boo, you can replace those tacky white trainers yourself
charles_leclerc: is having no manners a verstappen trait?
yourusername: come for max all you want, but the birthday girl? low leclerc
charles_leclerc: when you go low i go lower
yourusername: oh believe me i know all about you and going down
user22: DO YALL MIND?
user23: do they think we're dumb?
charles_leclerc
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liked by pierregasly, lancestroll and 1,204,674 others
charles_leclerc: a weekend without racing?
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user24: what is biden doing about the soft launch pandemic?
user25: well this is oddly timed ...
yourusername: you look like you'd have sweaty hands
charles_leclerc: wouldn't you like to know
yourusername: unlike all ur fangirls i've actually smelt you sweaty after a race so you can keep your hands to yourself
maxverstappen1: you heard her 🤨
charles_leclerc: why are you here? is this a 2 for 1 deal on annoying dutch people
yourusername: you can call him annoying all you want, but you love me don't lie
charles_leclerc: my lawyer says i shouldn't comment on that ;)
sebastianvettel: when will you two stop?
yourusername: sorry seb :(
charles_leclerc: sorry seb :(
user26: i know carlos is sick reading this weird flirting when y/n never comments on his pics
user27: she comes here just to flirt cause she didn't even like the photo
user28: she doesn't even follow him 😭
pierregasly: i love a slow burn as much as the next person BUT NOT WHEN I DON'T KNOW WHO IT IS PICK UP THE PHONE
charles_leclerc: you're so dramatic, nobody knows calmar
maxverstappen1: he's lying i do
pierregasly: WHAT
charles_leclerc: by ACCIDENT i didn't tell him by choice
user29: so like, it's definitely y/n LOL
user30: oh no everyone get ready marca is going to run a story tomorrow about how charles leclerc is ruining carlos' career with psychological warfare by flirting with the girl he likes
user31: sainz sr about to wage war lol
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charles_leclerc
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liked by pierregasly, yourusername and 2,304,889 others
tagged: yourusername
charles_leclerc: i don't share. i love you. please follow me on instagram now (and let me come on max's jet) x
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user35: HOLY FUCK
user36: they're so fucking sexy my lord
yourusername: you're so weak, one teammate flirts with me and you hard launch, i've had 12 year olds use me as a face claim to pretend they're pregnant with your child
charles_leclerc: they took your face? i happen to quite like it, can they give it back?
yourusername: quite?
charles_leclerc: don't make me look bad you know i positively LOVE YOUR FACE
yourusername: and my ass since it's all you look at on track
charles_leclerc: okay you can drop the act now people know we're in love stop being mean to me :(
yourusername: but it's true, no?
charles_leclerc: rest assured i love your actual ass much more
maxverstappen1: believe me the people she lives with know WAY too much about how much you love it
user37: carlos sainz really thought he had a chance when these fools have been together for TWO years
sebastianvettel: congratulations you two, glad we don't have to watch you two trying to be subtle now
maxverstappen1: so wait when did you find out?
sebastianvettel: about two weeks into the relationship, they were very obvious
yourusername: thank you for keeping our secret dad <3
user38: y/n really said you ARE my grid dad
yourusername: oh no that's my actual dad
charles_leclerc: he's literally going to walk y/n down the aisle
maxverstappen1: please don't tell me you're engaged? i only just got over you actually being together
charles_leclerc: i'm not your brother yet don't worry (i will be soon)
carlossainz55: congrats guys
user39: it's okay bro you can cry
yourusername
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liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 2,301,541 others
tagged: charles_leclerc
yourusername: two years with the love of my life, still on max's side on val d'argenton x
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user40: they're disgusting (when will it happen to me)
charles_leclerc: we'll have to agree to disagree
yourusername: just admit it you love to push verstappens off the track
charles_leclerc: sorry babe as much as i love you, i'll never let you win x
yourusername: good thing i always beat you then x
charles_leclerc: either way victory sex still bangs
user41: yes, yes they're cute, but i need a full on play-by-play of how this relationship came to be
user42: i know these menaces were giggling and kicking their feet every time they had an argument in comment sections
yourusername: oh it was very fun
charles_leclerc: but the radio messaged are 100% real lol
maxverstappen1: thanks for having my back, you're welcome for all the gross pictures i've taken for you guys
yourusername: consider your payment like every meal i make us
maxverstappen1: well if i did it f1 would be down three drivers
user43: wait so does charles basically live with them now?
maxverstappen1: unfortunately yes. depressing music, even worse cooking than me and horrendously loud sex with my sister. i should kick him out
charles_leclerc: i literally bought you noise-cancelling headphones?
maxverstappen1: nothing you can say will save me from this trauma
yourusername: just shag daniel and get off of our case x
note: ahhhhh i am so sorry this request took so long, my inbox keeps moving stuff around lol. my finger is good thanks for asking, the human body is a wonder and i peeled off the last of my scab this week lol. i hope this was the kinda thing you were looking for !! xx
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hyperactively-me · 3 months
Note
Okay but king ghost if his queen was kidnapped or held for ransom?? I just want some protective ghost in my life
the way i had this idea planned for a while already, but anon, our brainwaves are connecting. i’ve gotten literally countless requests for this same idea. if you sent in a request similar to this, i’m so sorry, i wasn’t ignoring you, i've just had this planned for a while! (word count: 5.8k)
king!ghost x reader -- taken
warnings: kidnapping, physical fighting, physical injuries/blood/bruises, semi-vague descriptions of torture, torture tactics, throw up, restraints, heavy angst, i guess a happy ending? maybe??? idk 😭, ummmm idk what else... please please please let me know if there's anything i've missed. this is a dark chapter! check your media consumption based off the warnings!
It was a quiet night. Eerily quiet. The sounds of the summer insects ceased, the hot air still, unmoving. You were in bed, trying to sleep. You had no clue what time it was, all you knew is that you were hot and exhausted.
You roll onto your side, huffing as you throw the covers off your body. You close your eyes again, trying to will yourself to sleep.
A moment later, you hear a creak coming from the far side of the room where the doors to the balcony are. 
You immediately sit up, scanning the room.
“Hello?” you call out, your voice wavering as you slip out of bed. You immediately grab your knife from the drawer of your bedside table, walking around the side of your bed to stare at your slightly ajar balcony door. 
Your heart drops in your chest, but before you can say anything, a hand holding a rag clamps around your mouth. Soap was right outside your door. If you could just— Your scream is muffled as you try to fight off the intruder, swinging your knife back and hitting flesh, trying to stomp on their foot, kick them, anything. The intruder lets out a strangled cry from your stab, pulling your head back farther. You know you’ve made contact when you feel blood trickle down your hand. Serves them right for trying to kidnap you. The intruder wraps their arm around your torso, yanking you back as they shove the rag over your nose, forcing you to inhale the fumes. 
Your movements become more sloppy as the fumes enter your nostrils, your eyes fluttering as you fight with everything in you to stay awake. Your knife clatters on the ground as you become limp. 
“That’s it, go to sleep,” a man’s voice whispers in your ear, sending a cold chill throughout your body. And with that, you succumb to unconsciousness.
. . .
You wake up in a cold, damp cell. You go to rub your eyes, but are stopped by the clanking of metal chains. You look down, and your hands are bound together by heavy, metal manacles. 
“What the—” you say, pulling at the restraints multiple times to no avail, the iron bolted into the wall to prevent you from running. “No, no, no no no—” you cry out, flailing as you try to free yourself from the cuffs. Your heart is racing in your chest, how could this happen? The overwhelming urge to cry washes over you, but you bite your lip to stop yourself.
Your body shivers at the low temperature of the cell, the stone keeping the cold air stale in your cell. You’re still in what you wore to bed which was…not much. You push yourself to standing, walking up to the bars of the cell, trying your best to peek out into the hallway. 
The hallway is dimly lit, revealing the cold, unforgiving walls of what appears to be an underground dungeon of some sort. The air is cool, and the distant sound of footsteps echoes through the corridors. Panic tightens its grip on you as you assess your surroundings.
“Hey! Is anyone there?” you shout, your voice bouncing off the stone walls. There's no response, just the eerie silence of the place. You take a deep breath, fighting against the rising sense of despair.
As you peer down the hallway, you catch a glimpse of movement. Footsteps approach, and your heart races anew. A figure emerges from the shadows, wearing a uniform that tells you all you need to know. It’s a uniform from the Southern Kingdom. You back away from the bars, pressing your back up against the wall behind you. 
“Your majesty,” the figure says, their voice devoid of any emotion. “You won’t be leaving anytime soon.”
Your mind races with questions, but the figure remains stoic, indifferent to you cowering in the corner. The reality of your situation sets in, and a mix of fear and frustration swirls within you.
“Who are you? Why am I here?” you demand, desperation lacing your words.
The person ignores your questions, producing a set of keys to unlock the cell door. The heavy door creaks open, revealing a corridor lined with more cells. The person steps inside the cell, much to your dismay. Your breathing picks up as he steps towards you, afraid of retaliation. Instead, he makes his way towards the wall where your manacles are attached. With a key, he releases the chain from the wall and takes it in his grip. Shortening the length of the chain, he yanks on it, causing you to stumble forward. 
“Walk,” he commands, basically dragging you behind him out of your cell. You contemplate pulling against him, but not before you spot the sword on his hip. Without further thought, you lunge forward, pushing the man to the ground in front of you as you reach for his sword with your bound hands. 
The man grunts as he hits the cold, stone floor. Seizing the opportunity, you manage to grab the hilt of his sword with your restrained hands, the metal feeling cold against your skin. Adrenaline surges through you as you pull the sword free from its scabbard.
Without a moment’s hesitation, you point the weapon at the man. “Who are you? Why am I here?” you demand again, your voice trembling with fear and anger.
The man on the floor looks up at you, a hint of surprise crossing his face. Despite the advantage of the sword in your hands, he doesn’t seem intimidated in the slightest. The nonchalant look on his face makes you even angrier, and you don’t hesitate pressing the tip of the sword against his shoulder. “You won’t find answers by waving that around,” he states calmly.
Before you can react, the man kicks you out from under your feet, causing you to drop the sword as your hands instinctively go to catch yourself – that is, catch yourself the best cuffed hands can. 
You hit the ground hard, the impact jarring through your body. Groaning, you roll onto your side, the cold stones digging into your skin, surely leaving a bruise where you fell. The man swiftly rises to his feet, his expression unchanged.
“Come along, now,” he says as he yanks the chains, completely unbothered. 
You struggle to your feet, the manacles limiting your movements. Glaring at the man, you reluctantly follow as he leads you through the labyrinthine corridors of the underground dungeon. The man, seemingly unfazed, leads you through the dark, winding corridors of the underground dungeon. The chill in the air makes you shiver, both from the cold and the anxiety that tightens your chest.
As you walk, you try to gather your thoughts. How did you end up in the hands of the Southern Kingdom? How did the man breach the castle walls and enter your bedroom? How long have you been gone? Where are you? Where is Simon? Johnny? The questions swirl in your mind, but the stoic silence of your captor offers no answers.
The dimly lit passageways seem endless, twisting and turning without rhyme or reason. Eventually, you arrive at a heavy, iron door guarded by two Southern Kingdom soldiers. They exchange a nod with your captor, who proceeds to unlock the door. It creaks open, revealing a dimly lit room.
The room is adorned with flickering torches, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. A wooden table sits in the center, surrounded by a few mismatched chairs. You notice there’s a guard standing watch in the corner of the room, and two other people sitting in chairs, most likely waiting for your arrival. The air is thick with tension as you’re pushed into one of the chairs.
“Watch it,” you growl, slightly folding into yourself in the chair. 
The figure steps back, motioning to the other two people in the room. One of them is wearing a mask that conceals their features, leaving only their cold, calculating eyes visible. You try to read any emotion in their eyes, but they remain expressionless. 
“Who are you, and why am I here?” you demand for the third time, your voice wavering between defiance and desperation. You look between the three people, anger bubbling up within you. 
The man who brought you here remains silent for a moment, studying you with an unsettling intensity. Finally, he speaks, his words measured and devoid of any warmth. “You wouldn’t have gone with us willingly, so I am sorry you have to be here this way.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes. 
The figure’s eyes narrow at your display of defiance. “Your insolence won't change your circumstances.” 
You move to stand up from the chair, but you’re pushed back down by the guard lingering in the room. “We’d appreciate it if you didn’t resist.”
You stare at him, the glare still plainly visible on your face. He seems satisfied enough with your cooperation. 
“Now, you’re here because your kingdom has assets and resources we need. Your husband, the great King Ghost, won’t give up easily, but we have leverage now, don’t we?” 
You should’ve known.
A chill runs down your spine. You clench your fists, frustration and fear fueling your determination.
“Tell me what you want,” you demand, your voice firm despite the tension in the room.
The figure leans forward, resting their hands on the table, their face just inches from yours. “Your cooperation, your majesty. Tell us what you know, and we won’t hurt you.” 
Your blood runs cold at that. Hurt you? Now that caught your attention. 
You raise an eyebrow. “So, what? You plan to use me as a bargaining chip to force Ghost’s hand?”
“Yes. You’re one of his only weaknesses,” says the man who hasn’t spoken until now. “Ever since you sent your reinforcements, our army has been experiencing some… setbacks. We were going to come to this as a last resort, but the time came to use you in our strategy.”
He’s rolling up his sleeves with care, pulling some intimidating tools out of the drawer of the table. 
He notices you eyeing the tools warily. “Oh, don’t worry. We won’t be using these unless you really won’t listen.”
“And, just a brief mention before we start the questioning, you should really do more thorough background checks on your staff. You were given over to us by one of your own. Within the palace, might I add.” 
With a swift motion, the man wearing the mask pulls it off their head, revealing a face you didn’t expect. It's someone you recognize, someone from your own court—an advisor you thought was loyal, someone who had been with you especially over the past few weeks. 
“Edmund?” you gasp, disbelief and betrayal coloring your voice. “How could you?”
Edmund avoids your gaze, his eyes fixed on the table. “It was never personal, your majesty. The Southern Kingdom made an offer, and I couldn’t refuse.”
You seethe with anger, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “Greater good? Kidnapping me in the middle of the night? Betraying me? What greater good could possibly justify this?”
He shrugs. “Money.” 
With that, Edmund slinks out of the room. 
The word echoes through the room, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Money. The one thing that could corrupt even the seemingly loyal. Edmund’s betrayal stings deeper than any blade, and you struggle to comprehend how someone you trusted could sell you out.
“Cooperate, and you won’t have to endure unnecessary pain,” one of the men states coldly, motioning to the tools.
Your eyes narrow at the proposition. “And if I refuse?”
A hand slaps your cheek, the sharp sound echoing through the room. “Refusing won't make this any easier for you.”
Your cheek throbs from the slap, but you meet his gaze defiantly. You won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you break. You can’t. 
The man with the tools takes a step forward, his gaze fixed on you like a predator closing in on its prey. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The choice is yours.”
You glance at the guard, a mixture of anger and disappointment in your eyes.
“Now, let’s start with something simple. Kastron’s silver supply. Where is it located?” he demands, his patience wearing thin. “Start talking, little princess.”
. . . 
You’re not sure how long it’s been since you were dragged into this interrogation room, but all you know is that your body positively aches. You were treated relentlessly, punched to your gut and slapped at the expense of one of your captor’s short tempers. Thankfully they haven’t used the tools on you, but you can’t help but be weary of them. Your body slumps in the chair, pain radiating from your abdomen. The cold, harsh reality of your situation weighs heavily on your shoulders. Sweat beads on your forehead, a mixture of fear and physical exertion.
The interrogators stand around you, unsatisfied with the information you've provided so far. The room feels suffocating, the air thick with tension and the acrid scent of burning torches.
“Last chance,” he sneers, the coldness in his eyes sending shivers down your spine.
You grit your teeth, your jaw aching from the force of their blows. The loyalty to your kingdom surges within you. You won't betray your people, no matter the cost.
“I won’t... betray... Kastron,” you manage to spit out, defiance in your eyes.
The interrogator scowls, and without warning, delivers another brutal blow to your stomach. The pain is unbearable, and you gasp for breath.
“Stubborn little thing, aren’t you?” the man with the tools taunts, a sadistic grin on his face.
As the interrogators prepare for another round of questioning, the heavy door to the room swings open. A new figure enters, their silhouette backlit by the torchlight. The men exchange glances, a hint of surprise in their eyes.
“Alright, that is enough for today,” a commanding voice echoes through the room.
The figure steps forward, revealing a man, dressed in military attire. His eyes are stern and hold no compassion.
“Release her,” he orders, her voice brooking no argument.
The interrogators, albeit reluctantly, step back. The guard unlocks your restraints, and you slump forward, breathing heavily.
The man turns to the interrogators, his expression stern. “That’s enough, you may go.”
The two men scowl but don’t argue. They exit the room, leaving you alone with the mysterious man.
He turns to you, his gaze assessing. “You’ve endured more than necessary. My apologies.”
“You’re not sorry. Go straight to hell,” you spit. 
The man’s stern expression falters for a moment, but he quickly regains his composure. “I understand your anger, but I’m here to explain to you what’s going on. I’m General Shepherd. I lead the Southern Kingdom’s military.”
You’re silent. You recognize the name from a few brief mentions around the castle whilst receiving intel about the war, but you’ve never seen him before.
“We’re not here to hurt you—” 
You glare at him, still seething with anger and distrust. “Do you hear yourself? What the fuck are you talking about, when I’ve been kidnapped and tortured? Why should I hear anything you have to say?” 
Shepherd grabs your jaw harshly, fingers squeezing your cheeks. You claw at his wrist gripping your face, but he doesn’t let go. 
“If you would listen to what I’m telling you, then you wouldn’t be sitting in this room. Don’t wear my patience thin, your majesty.” 
His words are sharp, and you can feel the intensity in his grip on your jaw. Shepherd releases you, allowing you to lean back into the chair. You shoot him a venomous look, but he seems unfazed.
“Your husband, King Ghost, has been a thorn in our side for far too long. Quite the nuisance. The war between our kingdoms has dragged on, costing our side quite a lot. We need a resolution, and we need it soon,” Shepherd explains, his gaze locking onto yours.
“So, what? You think kidnapping me and torturing me is going to make Ghost surrender?” you scoff, annoyance evident in your voice. “He won’t surrender, if that’s what you want. He’s going to fight back harder, and you’re going to wish you never had me here.” 
“Still, it’s a means to an end. A desperate attempt to force his hand,” Shepherd replies, frustration in his voice. “We have leverage now, and we plan to use it to bring about a swift end to Kastron’s military. We’re not heartless, your majesty. We aim to minimize bloodshed.”
You can’t help but laugh bitterly. “Minimize bloodshed? By kidnapping me and using me as a bargaining tool? Very noble and humanitarian of you.”
Shepherd narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t respond to your sarcasm. “Your husband won’t let harm come to you. He'll do whatever it takes to secure your safety.”
“He’s not going to surrender,” you mutter under your breath. He’s going to do much, much worse than anyone could ever imagine. 
“He will. This war has dragged on for too long. We need a resolution, and we need it now,” Shepherd emphasizes, his tone stern. 
Your mind races, considering the weight of the situation. You hate Shepherd for this, subjecting you to a cruel game that you never wanted to be part of in the first place. It wasn’t even Kastron that started this war, it was the Southern Kingdom. The hypocrisy of the Southern Kingdom and unjust treatment of your own kingdom has driven you up the wall. You think about your people, your kingdom, and the lives at stake.
Your gaze pierces through Shepherd’s cold exterior.
Shepherd sighs, as if he anticipated your skepticism. “You don’t have to trust me. But you should consider the bigger picture. Your cooperation can save lives, including your own.”
A conflicted expression crosses your face. The idea of cooperating with your captors goes against every instinct, but the desire for an end to the war lingers in the back of your mind. You weigh your options, knowing that every decision carries significant consequences.
“What do you expect from me?” you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.
Shepherd studies you for a moment before responding, “Information. Insight into Kastron's military strategies, resources, weaknesses. Anything that can expedite the end of the war and give Kastron over to us.”
You laugh humorlessly. “See, that’s exactly what I don’t want.” 
Shepherd’s gaze remains unwavering. “Your wants are not the priority here. The fate of your kingdom is on your shoulders. If you truly care about your people and your husband, you’ll consider the bigger picture.”
Your jaw clenches, frustration boiling within you. You know Shepherd is partially right, but the resentment toward the Southern Kingdom clouds your judgment. You take a deep breath, attempting to push aside your anger.
“What guarantee do I have that you won’t just use me and murder me when it’s convenient?” you challenge, searching for any sign of honesty in Shepherd’s eyes.
He leans in, his expression serious. “My word. Betraying the terms of our agreement would not serve the interests of either of our kingdoms.”
Agreement, you scoff inside your head. As if I had any choice in the first place. 
You find his words hard to believe. The events leading up to this point have shattered your trust in anyone associated with the Southern Kingdom. However, you can’t deny the urgency of the situation.
You decide to not say anything. Shepherd nods, seemingly satisfied with your response. “All we ask is that you provide us with information. I’ll give you time to think this over.” 
Shepherd motions for you to stand, and you do so with a glare. Your body protests, every movement sending pain coursing through you. He leads you out of the room, the guards following closely behind. The dimly lit corridors of the underground dungeon stretch ahead, and you realize that you’re not being taken to the same cell you were initially in. 
Eventually, you arrive at a somewhat more comfortable room. It's still a cell, cold iron bars keeping you prisoner, but there's a cot and a small table. 
Shepherd removes the manacles from your wrists, allowing you to rub your raw skin. 
“I’m going to leave these off. Don’t get smart.” 
The heavy door clanks shut behind you, finally leaving you alone with your thoughts. A guard stands watch outside your cell, giving you no privacy. 
The reality of your situation settles in, and you can't help but feel powerlessness. The fate of Kastron rests, in part, on your shoulders. You sit on the cot, your mind racing with questions and uncertainties. 
As you ponder the road ahead of you, a small opening in the door slides open, and a guard hands you a meager meal. The gesture is cold, impersonal, but you accept it nonetheless. The guard retreats, leaving you alone again.
The hours pass slowly in the dimly lit cell. You wrestle with conflicting emotions—anger, fear, determination. The echoes of Shepherd’s words linger in your mind, and you can’t help but have doubts in your mind. Would Simon come rescue you? Or would you have to escape on your own? You don’t even know where you are being kept. Your thoughts flicker to Kastron, what Johnny must be doing right now. Surely they’re looking for you. 
As the torches flicker and the dungeon remains shrouded in darkness, you brace yourself for the challenges that will come with tomorrow. Shepherd needs your cooperation, and you’re not going to give it to him, no matter the cost. The journey ahead is uncertain, but one thing is clear—you will not surrender easily, and the fight for Kastron is far from over.
. . . 
The next two days, you’re dragged back to the same room for interrogation. Again, you refuse to speak, each blow raining down harder on you. Your nose was bloodied, face battered and red, and ribs surely bruised from the blows. You’ve been in a perpetual state of fight or flight, adrenaline and pain racking your body in devastating amounts. You were plain exhausted, body reaching its limit. 
But you didn’t really care. You wanted to keep Kastron and Simon safe, so you stayed silent. Save for your screams of pain. 
On the third night, you found yourself alone in the dungeons. It was unusual, as there was usually a guard in place to make sure you didn’t do anything out of line. 
You move to the iron bars, trying your best to peek both ways before pulling out a stolen fork from one of your meals. The metal of the fork feels strangely empowering in your hands as you work on the lock. The dim light in the dungeon barely illuminates your surroundings, but you're determined to seize any opportunity for escape. The occasional distant sound of footsteps echoes through the corridor, reminding you of the ever-present threat of getting caught. 
As you manipulate the lock with the makeshift tool, you can’t shake off the nagging feeling that this might be a setup. Perhaps Shepherd or someone else in the Southern Kingdom’s monarchy is testing your resolve, observing whether you’d take advantage of a momentary lapse in surveillance. You can’t bring yourself to care that much. 
The lock finally clicks, and the cell door creaks open. You hesitate for a moment, listening intently for any signs of approaching footsteps. The dungeon remains eerily quiet. Slipping the fork into your clothing, you step out cautiously, avoiding the patches of cold, damp floor. Your battered body protests with every movement, but the urgency of your situation fuels your determination. 
You move silently, keenly aware that any noise could betray your escape. The cool air sends shivers down your spine as you head towards the direction you’re taken in for interrogation. It’s a risky venture, and most likely a stupid venture, but you don’t want to be holed up in this godforsaken hell hole for much longer. 
After what feels like an eternity, you reach a heavy, iron door. It's slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of dim light from the other side. Your heart pounds in your chest as you inch it open, revealing a narrow staircase leading upward. The ascent is slow and agonizing, each step a reminder of the physical toll the past days of torture have taken on your body. You wince with each step, taking deep, steadying breaths. As you approach the top, you hear hushed voices and the occasional clank of armor.
Peeking through the crack in the door, you spot a guard stationed at the top of the stairs, seemingly engrossed in conversation with another. Their attention is diverted, providing you with a small window of opportunity.
Summoning the last reserves of your strength, you push the door open just enough to slip through without making a sound. The corridor beyond is dimly lit, and you stick to the shadows, hugging the cold stone wall. Pressing yourself against the wall, you listen carefully to the conversations around you, trying to piece together an escape route. Your gaze falls upon an entryway that has the last hints of the sunset pouring through the crevices. 
You reach the entryway, and a sense of trepidation washes over you. Before you could push open the door and make a run for it, a hand grabs your upper arm. Without hesitation, you clench your fork in your hand and stab the perpetrator with the prongs. 
The guard lets out a pained scream as your makeshift weapon finds its mark. They release their grip on your arm, stumbling back in pain.
“You bitch!” They cry, and a few more guards appear on the scene after hearing their scream. 
Adrenaline courses through your veins as you realize that your window of escape is rapidly closing. Without waiting any further, you burst through the entryway, darting into the fading light of the setting sun.
You bolt as fast as you can across the cobblestones, the sounds of yelling guards and footsteps hot on your tail. Every step makes it feel as though fire is shooting up your body, but you push through. Just as you think you’re about to make a clean getaway into the forest outside the bunker, you’re side tackled to the ground. 
The impact is brutal, and pain shoots through your battered body as you collide with the hard ground. The guards quickly swarm around you, their faces contorted with anger. One of them wrestles the stolen fork from your hand, while the others pin you down, restraining your limbs.
“Bloody rebel,” one of the guards snarls, spittle flying as they speak.
“Get the fuck– off of me!” you scream, trying to swipe and hit at anyone in your reach. 
Your attempt at escape only intensifies their aggression. The guard you wounded with the fork clutches their side, a seething expression of pain etched across their face.
The leader of the guards, a stern-faced man with a scar running across his cheek, steps forward. “Thought you could just waltz out of here, did ya?”
He delivers a swift kick to your ribs, making you howl in pain. The guards show no mercy as they haul you to your feet. You go deadweight in their grasp, making it harder for them to drag you back to your cell. When they manage to pull you halfway back to your cell, you start kicking and screaming again, not wanting to make this easy for them.
“Fuck all of you, let go of me!” you scream, trying to yank your wrists from their grasp. 
“Shut the fuck up,” a guard yells at you, digging their fingernails into your wrist. 
As you're thrown back into your dark, dank cell, the manacles are back on, alongside chains on each ankle. The heavy door clangs shut behind you, and the bitter taste of defeat settles in your mouth. Two guards now stand outside your cell, watching you intently. 
A few minutes go by, and General Shepherd strides into the hallway. His eyes, devoid of warmth, fixate on your battered form.
“Leave us,” his voice commands, and the guards retreat from the dungeon.
He stands just outside the iron bars, his gaze cold and calculating. 
“You’re a persistent one,” he remarks, his tone devoid of empathy.
Despite your battered state, you summon what strength remains within you and glare defiantly at Shepherd. 
You glare at him, defiance burning despite the exhaustion. “Fuck off.”
He doesn’t say anything, which enrages you.
“I said, fuck. Off. Leave me alone!” you yell. Shepherd's stoic expression doesn’t waver. Instead, he observes you with an unsettling calmness that sends shivers down your spine. The silence stretches, and you can feel the weight of his gaze.
Finally, he speaks, his voice low and measured. “You have spirit, I'll give you that. But it's time to realize the futility of your resistance. It’s been nearly four days. More than half a week. I don’t have the time or patience to keep you around.” 
“I’ll never bow to the likes of you,” you retort.
Shepherd sighs, almost as if he’s disappointed. “You’re not seeing the bigger picture here. Your defiance only prolongs the suffering. Kastron can have peace, Ghost won’t have to face such difficult decisions. All we need is your cooperation.” 
“I’d rather die,” you spit out, every word laced with venom. “And I don’t think Ghost would appreciate it if I turned up dead. You think he’ll surrender just because you beat me to a pulp? Think again. He’s coming to get me any day now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll show you mercy or pull back the troops. You’ll see. And you’ll be sorry you even looked at Kastron’s borders.” 
His gaze doesn’t falter. “Perhaps. But, death is a choice, too. And it’s not just your life at stake, is it? There’s a kingdom relying on your decisions.”
You clench your fists, the chains rattling with your restrained anger. “I won't betray my people for your false promises.”
Shepherd leans against the cold stone wall, crossing his arms. “Think about it. Reflect on where you are right now. I’ll be back tomorrow, bright and early. I hope you’ll have come to your senses by then.”
Without waiting for your response, he turns and leaves the dungeon, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. Alone in the cold darkness, you curl up on the cot as best you can given the heavy chains.
. . .
Shepherd keeps his promise, returning in the morning. 
“Well?” he prompts, a hint of impatience in his tone.
You meet his gaze with defiance. “Go. To. Hell.”
His expression remains unreadable. “Very well. You’ve made your choice.”
You’re dragged back to the interrogation room, only this time you’re silent. 
You’re met with the tools set right in front of your chair, and a scary looking person you’ve never seen before. 
As you’re restrained to a chair, your eyes glaze over. 
For once in your life, you’re quiet. No snarky comments, no sharp words. You’re silent.
Because you’re truly afraid.
. . . 
The metallic scent of blood fills the air. You don’t think you’ve ever lost as much blood in your life. 
The room is spinning, and your body feels detached from your consciousness. The pain, once sharp and immediate, has dulled into a throbbing ache that permeates every fiber of your being. The interrogator’s methods have taken a drastic toll, and you’re teetering on the edge of consciousness. 
You think your wrist is sprained, if not broken. You glance down at it, the swollen and bruised flesh causing your stomach to churn. You definitely look worse for wear right now. 
Eventually, they tire of their methods, leaving you slumped in the chair, bloodied and broken. The tools they used on you lie abandoned on a nearby table. Every movement, no matter how slight, sends waves of pain through your form.
As the interrogator steps away, their job seemingly done, a faint groan pushes past your split upper lip. The throbbing in your head matches the rhythm of your heartbeat, each pulse amplifying the pain. Your vision swims, and you struggle to keep your eyes open.
Shepherd approaches, crouching to meet your gaze. 
“I had hoped you would see reason," he says, almost conversationally. “The pain will continue until you cooperate.”
You manage a hoarse chuckle, the sound more bitter than amused. “Sorry I can’t be of use to you.”
He straightens, his gaze unwavering. “I have all the time in the world. You however… I’m not so sure. I suggest you reconsider. Your defiance harms not only you but those you claim to protect.”
With that, Shepherd turns and exits the room, motioning the guards to take you back to your cell. 
The guards, their expressions cold and indifferent, unshackle you from the blood-stained chair. Your body protests as you’re hoisted up, pain shooting through every limb. They guide you out of the interrogation room, each step a painful shuffle. Your vision is blurring, and you lose your footing a few times. As they lead you back to your cell, you catch glimpses of other new prisoners, faces worn and defeated. The stench of dampness and decay fills your nostrils, and you throw up on the floor in front of you. You think some of it has traces of blood. 
The guards show no reaction to your vomit, their faces remaining stoic and indifferent. You stumble forward, the world spinning around you, and your steps become increasingly unsteady.
The door to your cell creaks open, and you’re unceremoniously thrown inside. The manacles and chains are back on, securing you in the darkness. The guards, their duty done, exit without a word, leaving you alone with your pain.
You lie on the floor for who knows how long, focusing on your breathing and attempting to not fall asleep in the fear that you won’t wake up for a long time due to the severity of your injuries. 
In, and out.
In, and out. 
In, and out. 
A few hours pass, and you manage to calm your swirling vision and headache. With a grunt, you pull yourself up to your cot with your good hand, dropping onto the solid mattress with a grunt. 
You’re not sure how much longer you could go on like this. It was all too much. 
As you lay there in the dimness of your cell, a distant noise catches your attention. Footsteps, echoing through the dungeon. At first, you dismiss it as another patrol, but the rhythm and urgency in the steps hinted at something different. A figure emerges in front of your bars, and you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the return of the guards or another round of interrogation. 
To your surprise, a familiar voice cut through the silence.
“Dove?”
- - - - -
(masterlist)
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greatshell-rider · 2 years
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i forgot about barend being an artist but
Barend snorted, rubbing his nose on his sleeves, then went back to his sketching; it wasn’t just horses anymore. Barend drew ships, in amazing detail. Sponge admired the ability, but secretly wished Barend would return to drawing horses. Horses were alive, beautiful. Ships were boring.
...
When Sponge pulled away, Barend got shakily to his feet. He was home, all right. And he could sketch all he wanted, pretending his mind was out there on the water, skimming before the wind, but he knew he was here, and winter would be long and full of pain and fear.
was sure the hell of a reminder
#from drawing horses to ships#thinks about how marlovans are obsessed with their horses and their horses are the most vital part of their warrior society#thinks about how the horses represent ties to the land and to marlovan culture and how in drawing ships it represents barend's longing for t#the freedom of the seas and yea that one's obvious BUT then adding on the experiences of inda and fox. also marlovans with honestly much str#stronger personal connections to the land (fox eventually less so#but he was obsessed with getting revenge/becoming king for a wee bit iirc) and how at first ships/the sea/becoming pirates might not seem as#freeing for them as it is so blatantly for barend#yes for fox going to sea allowed him to learn the sword and practice his knife skills and all that but! it goes further than that!#im thinking about how inda's goodbye to tdor was snappy and rude AND CONSTANTLY COMPARED TO TANRID'S OWN BEHAVIOR#tanrid who had been beating on inda all that winter so inda was picking up his bad manners particularly then in the face of excitement/relie#relief offered by his return to the academy. thus why he was a binch to tdor#but the important bit is! inda was becoming like tanrid. even if only for a small/short bit. inda! of all the guys!#inda favored by his mother. inda who never sought violence nor glory. inda only ever wanting the best for his friends. etc etc#given the marlovan culture and their practice of beating boys as often as it can physically be taken it is godsdamn impressive how 'well' an#anyone fuckin turns out. (especially sponge with the added pressures of being a prince ahem that's off topic)#it's little wonder tanrid turned out the way he did. it takes only a little wonder and speculation to see inda becoming a much harsher and#harder person than he turned out to be had he stayed in iasca leror all his life and trained in the academy until he was grown#key word HAD. my boy went to sea! and in the same manner as fox and barend it FREED him. from the brutality of marlovan society. for years#he had to HIDE being a marlovan. he had to learn a whole new way of fighting and tactics. on sea rather than on horseback#it did what the sierandael feared all along: taught him to look and think in different ways than typical marlovan teachings. taught him to#be independent. (relatively. ofc inda still struggled with the chain of command shit when evred ordered him to conquer the strait aha.)#to not be so blindly obedient as is literally beaten into boys as children. going to sea SAVED inda and changed him perhaps dramatically#than what he might've been had he stayed at the academy. and for fox yeah initially he was always so full of anger over the injustice done#to his ancestors that still heavily punishes him and his family today and so he was threatening to be a hashtag problem at home#but being on sea for so long as a pirate and with inda certainly fuckin changed the guy (gay ass bitch (affectionate))#as we see by the end of the series when he settles down in his family's prison for a few years not causing civil unrest before quietly#fucking off to norsunder (holds head in hands)#anyway#ships and horses amiright#inda quartet
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Best Automatics Knives
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bi-writes · 2 months
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hello 🐝!! hope ur doing well, luv!
was thinking about bff!roommate!simon loving readers food. the reader starts baking and cooking for fun and uses simon as a test subject to rate the food LOL. reader's food slowly becoming one of his comfort things and maybe him risking cooking for/with them
just pureeee fluff!!
had this idea while looking at my burnt brownies LMFAO
wish ya the best ⚡
this is so sweet. this came out much angst-ier than i intended lol.
more bff!roommate!simon (part 7/?)
cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, simon is big 👁️👁️, the mask doesn't come off, aNgSt and LoNgInG
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it's one of the first dinners that simon spends with you in your new apartment. he has never lived in a home that he didn't hate coming back to.
when he was a child, he feared his father. when he was an adult, he feared the loneliness and the quiet; it left room for the thoughts in his head to manifest and grow claws. but now, he found himself in the back of a car after deployment without dread in his chest.
when he steps into the foyer, the apartment is warm. there is no dust on the forgotten, bare counters. there is no screaming, no crying, no hushed voices and angry eyes. there is a warm yellow glow throughout the apartment; the lights you have put up since he left cast such a comforting shadow across the inviting furniture, the pictures you've hung on the wall are happy, the books you've put away and the candles you've lit are familiar.
and there's a smell. something smells so good. he closes the door behind him and locks it, setting his bag down. he follows the sounds coming from the kitchen. there's the sound of something simmering, cutlery hitting a wooden cutting board.
when he emerges into the kitchen, something in his chest constricts. you've got your bottom lip between your teeth as you concentrate on peeling some potatoes, trying to be careful not to nick the tip of your finger. there's a pot on the stove, a low fire lit as something cooks. there's more candles, a glass of wine there, a neat mess of vegetable scraps and ingredients.
he doesn't know what to call it; the taste of the word in his mouth sounds something like home.
"simon!"
and there's your smile. a bright, shimmering thing that comes over your face, relief in those gorgeous eyes and glossiness in your gaze as you hold back the excited tears you're overwhelmed with. you drop the knife you were using, hurrying around the counter to greet him, and simon grunts as your arms fling around his neck, bringing him down to your level as you hug him tight. there it is again--something tight and mean in his chest, something that feels good but something he can't say out loud.
"y-you're home--" you pull back gently. "you're back."
you smile, and simon catches the tear that escapes before it can run down your cheek.
"w-welcome home," you whisper, and you mean it, and his breath is stuck in his throat because something was waiting for him here, and it is you, and you are perfect.
"'ello, luv," he murmurs. "somethin' smells nice."
"yeah, i--" you sniffle, taking his arm and bringing him into the kitchen. simon is still fully dressed in his gear, sturdy jeans with holsters fastened around his thighs, a thick belt, a tactical vest tight around his broad torso. you pick up a tasting spoon, dipping it into the stew and holding it up to him. "tell me how it tastes. i'm...trying something new."
simon meets your eyes from under the mask before he lifts up the fabric slightly. you don't pay attention to the corrugated skin you see, the discoloration; you just smile and feed him the spoon.
he closes his eyes gently. he has been living on ready-made meals in the field and the food prepared in the mess halls. the food isn't bad--but it isn't made like this. it doesn't come with an angel feeding it, it doesn't come with an apartment filled with peace, it wasn't made with that unspoken thing that is shared between the walls of this place.
it tastes wonderful. it's warm, and it sits so nice in his stomach, and simon wants more immediately.
"still needs some time, got to get the potatoes done," you say, as if reading his mind. "it'll give you some time to wash up."
and when he comes back, you're still there. he blinks; this isn't a dream. you're still in the kitchen, asking him how he's feeling, your hair in front of your eyes as you pick up plates and bowls and more things you must have picked up when he was gone--what the fuck is going on?
who's house am i in?
what kind of fucking dream is this?
when do i wake up--when does this all get taken away from me? because i don't fuckin' deserve this--ghosts don't eat--ghosts don't get to live, and they don't get to share these memories, and they don't get to fall in lo--
"simon," you say softly, putting a small bowl into his gloved hands. his dark eyes fall, focusing on the curve of your lips and the softness of your skin and the way you feel in front of him. "ready to eat?"
yes. yes, yes, yes--
simon has been waiting all his for this feeling. the domesticity of home, the familiarity of not being alone, the serenity in something not unknown. and this would not last--he knows this deep in his bones. dead men do not get to savor these moments; he knows his demon will come to collect the time he's stolen, but for now, he will sit at the table he shares with you, drink in the warmth that you bring. he will listen to the gentleness of your voice, and he will fight tears one day in the field trying to remember exactly how you sound at this exact moment in time.
and he will try again to keep this feeling. he will pick a day that you work, a day when you are gone, and he will try and recreate the homecoming you gave him. he will fuck it up--of course he will, because simon was never taught how to love someone else like this. but somehow, he knows you won't care.
you will look at him the way you're looking at him now--simon puts the stars in the sky, the moon into orbit, gravity in motion, he brings the heat of the sun and the snow in the winter, and maybe he doesn't do this with the world you live in, but he does it with whatever lives inside of you, and it's enough for you to know that this is all that matters.
his hand along your thigh, his eyes on yours, the thing that is stuck between his teeth that he won't say but that you can feel in the air.
the thing between you that follows you, even when you go to bed that night in separate rooms. the thing that keeps you up at night knowing he is just across the hall, that he's right there, he's right fucking there--
he's right there.
so why can't i just have him?
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Girldad Rosekiller vs. Girldad Wolfstar: Selling Girl Scout Cookies
(Yes I'm aware the Girl Scouts are an American thing. Indulge me.)
Rosekiller:
They aren't so much "selling" the cookies, as they are threatening people to buy them in support of their daughter "Or else".
Some Dude: "Nah, sorry man, but I gotta sell my own kid's cookies." Barty, pulling a knife out of fucking nowhere: "You'll buy the damn cookies or the only thing you'll be selling is your own severed hands."
Short, Sweet, and highly effective.
Wolfstar:
They have a whole plan. They used to just go to James first because this man will just buy every single one of those fucking cookies with no buyer's remorse, but Regulus has a firm ban on allowing any more than 3 boxes in the house at any given moment because they just had palets of the damned things sitting in their cupboard and now he gets physically ill at the very thought of anything other than thin mints.
So instead, Remus has a sale plan that he and Sirius created. It lays out the best locations, and with their encouragement, their daughter is very easily one of the best salespeople in the business.
Sounds normal right?
Wrong.
Because even a well-thought-out plan can be somewhat derailed based on Sirius's influence alone.
Let me set the scene:
[[On a sale day, Sirius and their daughter are sitting at the breakfast table before Remus wakes up. Sirius drinks some bougie iced espresso drink he made, and she has a plate of smiley-face pancakes out in front of her.]] Sirius: "So what do you say when someone starts to walk close to the table?" Their daughter, smiling up at him: "Hello, would you like to buy some cookies?" Sirius, nodding: "Good. Now, what do you say when they say no?" Their daughter: "Please sir, my mum just died of cancer." Sirius, grinning proudly: "That's my girl." Remus, having just walked into the kitchen, his hair a mess, and his jumper hiked up due to the hand scratching an itch on his stomach: "Please tell me that you did not teach our daughter to use Cancer as a sales tactic..." Sirius: "Of course I did! It's brilliant!" *She raises her hand from her seat* Remus, with a soft sigh: "Yes, Angel?" Her: "But I have two dads. I never knew my mom." Sirius: "Ah, but that's the trick, Darling." *He pokes her nose.* "Sales is all about the blatant exploitation of other people's emotions in order to make a profit." *looking to Remus* "Tell me I'm wrong." *Remus breathes out a resigned laugh and shakes his head incredulously* Remus: "It's the fact that I genuinely can't that upsets me the most..."
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i-drop-level-one-loot · 3 months
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Howdy, going through a phase with COD men (König my 6'10 BBG) and they would make such good Yandere husbands, would it be okay to request a Yandere military man who's completely delusional about a hostage he rescued? knife play and being stepped on with a tactical boot would be a bonus <3
btw the way you write dark content scratches such a specific itch and makes me want to wail, the yandere pirate story was *chef Kissssssss*
Honestly, the only thing I know about COD is that I kick ass at zombies lol so this is definitely just an oc
Yandere!Military Man x Hostage!Reader
CW: non-con, mention of death, assault, delusional ideation, dehumanizing language, dead dove
"Esteemed journalist (Reader L/N) has gone missing while covering the.."
The radio was drowned out by the vehicle hitting a rock, earning an aggravated groan from one of the men. Angrily, he slammed his fist on the dash board, as though he could intimidate the radio into working better. A couple of his brothers chuckled while the rookie squirmed nervously in his seat.
"Fucking, shit ass-" Adrian "Clank" Muigg muttered, quietly releasing a stream of curses in a very thick accent towards the machine.
(Most nicknames in the military were neither cool, nor had a badass backstory, most had fairly humorous or demeaning origins; Muigg, fresh out of boot camp, murdered an innocent television set in an attempt to fix it, which changed his name from "Big Bastard" to "Clank".)
The youngest man there prayed he wasn't visibly sweating. "Is everything alright, sir?"
Boston, the bushy browed man at the wheel, laughed with his entire chest. "That radio lady's talking 'bout the love of Clank's life!"
Clank felt the back of his neck heat up, and had to redirect his anger into tapping his foot to prevent himself from whacking Boston.
"I didn't know you had a partner?"
"He don't! HA! It's a one-sided, puppy love!" Boston joyfully mocked his best mate. "He's got that reporter-person's picture 'bove his bed, and has every article they've ever written. It's very sweet!"
Bright blue eyes warned Boston of the danger he was playing with, but Boston payed him no mind, causing more anxiety in the new recruit.
It was true, however, that Clank had a star struck crush on the journalist. They were brave in a way Clank hadn't seen before, the kind of bravery that made an unarmed civilian put their life in danger to expose the world to the horrors of war. This wasn't the first warzone (Reader) had willingly gone into, but it was the first time their mission overlapped with Clank's.
They were covering the battle Clank was involved in.
And it enraged him.
While their bravery is what initially drew him to them and their work, the longer he followed (Reader) the harder it got for him to read about the danger they got into. Weren't they fearful for their own life?? Why didn't they care for themselves as much as he cared for them??
The nearly six foot eight man had fantasized many times about what he would say and do if he got the opportunity to meet (Reader). He had an entire monologue prepared that exemplified his adoration for their work without ousting himself as a borderline obsessive fanboy.
However, that entire speech was forgotten when Clank burst into the room three hostages were being held in after killing the hostiles within the building, and found himself face to face with (Reader) in the flesh.
They stood defiantly, arms outstretched to protect the two other reporters behind them, not even wearing a bullet proof vest, ready to sacrifice themselves to save their coworkers.
Clank lowered his weapon, numbed by the sudden influx of confusing, and conflicting, emotions.
He was hurt, because he finally got to meet (Reader), and they were prepared for him to kill them.
He was enamored, because even with dirt clogging their pores, hair matted with sweat and drying blood, skin bruising and swollen, they were still the single most radiant being he had ever laid eyes upon.
And he was angry. Why wasn't (Reader) cowering like a good little civilian? Didn't they know that they could die? Why didn't they care about their life?
"I'm here to rescue you." Clank's voice was robotic, and unattached. It didn't feel like he was the one saying it, as the three frightened adults relaxed, scrambling over to his side. "Follow me."
He watched his object of affection as they obliviously helped lead the other two hostages down the stairs to the military vehicle. Their right eye was nearly swollen shut, but they were supporting a grown ass man with a slight limp. Clank imagined blowing the man's brains out.
As they made it down to where the group could see Clank's team, (Reader) released their friend and attempted to go back up the stairs. Still experiencing his out of body conundrum, Clank grabbed their arm forcefully, hard enough to earn a yelp from his favorite celebrity.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" He seethed, hissing the question between his clenched teeth to prevent himself from screaming it. The other two greedily ran outside to Boston's embrace, leaving them alone in the building.
"My footage, they kept it upstairs." Professional as always, the diligent champion of justice kept calm despite the feeling as though their arm would snap in Clank's fist.
"That is not important!"
"You don't know what I saw! It is, and I need the evidence, the proof, of what I saw!"
"Clank, where are you?" Boston's voice on Clank's radio distracted him enough for (Reader) to snake out of his grasp, bolting back up into the building.
"Shit-!" He pulled out his walkie as he ran up behind the surprisingly quick journalist. "Everything's good, I'll be down in a few minutes, start taking the others back."
"Uh, no? Excuse me-"
"That's an order."
"Clank-"
"I said; that's an order."
The violently pissed off man holstered his radio as he charged up the stairs three steps at a time.
His precious (Reader) had taken it too far this time.
Even if they didn't care about their own life, he cared. He loved them, adored them, worshipped them, so how fucking dare they continuously put their life in danger like this?
If they were to be wed one day, their life would be his. And that was downright disrespectful.
(Reader) could be heard rifling through cabinets and cupboards through the door of the first room on the floor above the one they were held prisoner on. Clank attempted to cool his rage before entering, wishing to not scare his future spouse again.
Glancing up only briefly, the adult of smaller stature offered a meak smile before going back to searching. "I'm sorry for that.. I don't mean to make your job difficult, but this is really important. We almost died for this footage; hell, LeDoux had his knee cracked open by one of those- his knee must be killing him."
-almost died-
-almost died-
Their words repeating in Clank's eardrums played over the exclamation of (Reader) finding their equipment. (Reader) almost died, for what? Nothing was more important than their life.
"I'm sorry?" Bloodshot eyes stared wide with confusion from under pursed eyebrows.
Without realizing it, Clank had spoken his thoughts out loud. But, perhaps this was for the best. They would have to learn the truth sooner or later. "Nothing is worth your life." He doubled down as he slowly approached (Reader).
It took a lot more energy forcing himself to smile than he wanted. Clank had never been so stressed or angry or conflicted in his entire life.
"That isn't for you to say." Sharp words responded with a huff, thrusting the camera into a duffel bag.
Clank released a humorless laugh. "You are like a small dog, aren't you, my dear?" His muscles were tensing under his uniform, and although (Reader) couldn't see it, they could feel the dangerous shift in his mannerisms. "You do not know of the danger you are in, so you bark loudly."
Although a pit of fear weighed down their stomach, the much weaker of the two hid it well, scoffing, and moving to stroll past Clank, praying that he was bluffing.
A harsh slap to their cheek confirmed that he was being serious, sending the already injured (Reader) to the floor.
Before they could scramble to their feet, a heavy, steel toed boot was placed firmly on their chest, pressing the air out of their lungs.
(Reader) could feel the blood rush to their head as they struggled to breath.
Clawing at Clank's shin and calf didn't move him.
"It is not your fault, that you are such a little dog. But, like all little dogs, you must be trained. Yes?"
Not a single word could be uttered. Black spots bounced around (Reader's) vision.
Clank eased up on the pressure just enough for oxygen to fill his love's deprived lungs. Between coughs and sputters, (Reader) only got out "Stop-" before his heel was digging into their sternum again.
"Tsk tsk tsk.. Now, I don't want to do this, but I have to. For us. So you must obey me, little puppy. Now, what do dogs say?"
(Reader) glared up at him in pain and hatred, sneering as angry tears welled up in their puffy eyes.
"Woof.." The pitiful bark was spat out.
"Ah ah ah." He wagged a finger at them in a chastising fashion. "Be nice, little puppy." His weight increased warningly, squeezing out a pained cry.
".. Woof."
Seeing the person Clank had loved for the past four years under his boot, writhing, flushed in the face, glistening eyes staring up at him and only him.. Clank could feel himself stiffening, and it disturbed him. Why did seeing his beloved cry in pain give him a hard on?
No, it is not because they are crying in pain.
Clank smiled, warping the situation to rationalize his hard cock pressing against his zipper. It was that they were being obedient for him.
Another cry rang out, louder this time, as Clank accidentally put too much weight on (Reader's) ribcage, lost in thought while admiring their pathetic face.
He got off, kneeling down so (Reader) wouldn't think about trying to get up. They got the message, and continued lying, grasping their chest and breathing raggedly.
"Good dog." Clank ran a hand through their hair. "You will listen to what I say, won't you?"
"Ye- ...woof." Their words quivered in shame.
"Good. Now, get on your knees."
(Reader) bit their tongue with how quickly their mouth clamped shut. It was humiliating, but their chest hurt so badly.. They rolled over, propping themselves up onto their hands and knees.
Their resolve to do as Clank said to avoid more pain was immediately forgotten when they felt his large hands tug at their pants.
"What are you doing?" They yelled in fright, whipping their head back to look at him before having their skull smashed into the floor, holding them down.
"Training, remember? For someone known for their intelligence, you sure are a moron. Bark, bitch."
Tears mixed in with snot, as (Reader) snarled "Fuck you!"
Clank removed his hand from their soft hair to firmly grasp their hips with both of his hands, pulling (Reader) onto his dick. "Incorrect."
"No!" (Reader) screamed, feeling Clank's bare member as it entered them painfully all in one thrust without lubrication. As they cried out, a slap to their ass rang out through the nearly empty room.
"What do dogs say?"
"Fuck you!" Another painful slap left a welt that would certainly bruise.
"You want to act like a bitch, putting your life in danger as though it doesn't matter, you're going to be treated like a bitch!" Clank raised his voice, terrifying his victim. "Now, what do dogs say?"
Slap!
"Woof.."
Slap!
"Woof! Woof! Bark!" They barked between viciously sobbing, heaving as he ravaged them from behind, fucking them so hard that their entire body rocked forward dangerously. The only reason why they hadn't fallen face first into the cement flooring was Clank's right hand digging painfully into their pelvis.
Whereas for (Reader) this was a nightmare, joy was already melting away Clank's anger.
"See, this will be better, for both of us. When we get back, you'll quit your job, and I can finally take care of you."
His thrusting became more passionate, and (Reader) could feel his precum as he began to slide in and out more easily. "I've dreamt of this for so long, and now I will finally be yours: whether as your husband or as your owner."
That triggered (Reader's) fight or fight response, realizing what Clank was implying. They attempted to throw themselves forward, to scramble away while he was still inside of them.
A strong arm caught (Reader) easily. Their spine was bent backwards, holding the attempted escapee in a head lock with a knife pressed to their throat as Clank continued stretching out their hole.
Despite their desperate pleas, their new fiance held (Reader) still on his cock as he released inside of them, going drunk on the way their walls felt clenching him as they milked him dry.
Eyes hazy with lust, he kissed their jaw, still keeping the knife held firmly against their neck just in case.
"Good dog."
A/N: I'm sorry it took so long! Thank you so much for your patience, I hope you like it ❤️
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boldlyvoid · 5 months
Text
Scare Tactics
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18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader
Summary: Surprisingly, Aaron agreed to a darker roleplay this Halloween.
Warnings: Ghostface role play, scene planning and negotiations, taking about safewords and limits, CNC, stalking, stalker phone calls, fake break-ins, handcuffs, oral (male receiving), deep throating, rough sex, degradation, name calling, slight pet/owner kink mentioned, begging, vibrators, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampies, domdrop, aftercare
Word Count: 6100
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When he gets in that night, it’s late. Pushing midnight, late. That’s not really a shock to her, he’s always got something going on. Between driving his son everywhere he needs to be, working on the PTA and teaching night classes at the local college, Aaron Hotchner is a busy man. Always has been, and always will be.
She’s in bed, scrolling through things on her phone as she waits for him to arrive. She is just catching up on the newest trends and celebrity gossip when she hears his heavy feet coming up the creaky old steps of their century home. While it is a beautiful place to lay low in the middle of nowhere, the sounds it made— especially at night— were insanely creepy.
The TikTok she’s watching doesn’t help either… she’s been listening to creepy Reddit stories and looking at home footage of spooky happenings. The videos she’s seen the most tonight, however, are ghost face videos. Be it thrust traps or couples going to the store to buy a mask to enhance alone time later that night, she’s seen them all.
There’s one on her screen as Aaron opens their door, she quickly locks her phone and looks at him with a guilty smile.
His old profiler ways clock in on the awkwardness right away, “What were you doing?”
“Nothing,” she presses her lips together and shakes her head, pretending she doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
“Wait… were you watching porn?” He asks. Eyes narrowed in on her, waiting to read her reaction.
She laughs, “no? Oh my god? I mean…. It’s not, but it definitely does something to me.”
He sits on the edge of the bed, “well, now you have to tell me?”
She sighs, thinking how she’s going to explain it to him of all people. “You’re going to think I’m insane.”
“Too late,” he teases.
She shoves him, “Seriously, it’s weird… I don’t even like the movies but—
“Oh, you were looking at thirst traps again?” He’s only recently learned that term.
She can’t help but smile, “Yeah… do you know the scream movies?” He nods. “There’s a trend right now where couples are having sex while the dominant partner has the ghost face mask on.”
“It is like a full role play? Breaking in? Phone calls? Knife play?” He asks as if they’re setting boundaries already, planning a kinky scene is something they’ve done a few times. He likes to know all the limits, the expectations and what turns her on about it before they agree to anything.
“Wait, you’d do it?” She asks, sitting up straighter. “Seriously?”
He nods, “if it’s something that’ll get you off, why not?”
She tosses the blankets back and gets to her knees, he pulls her into his lap and holds her by her hips. She cups his face and presses a quick kiss to his lips, “so you don’t think it’s weird?”
He shakes his head, “Not at all… mask kinks are incredibly common.”
“And if I did want you to pretend to stalk me and break in and overpower me…”
“I’d need some prep time, I’ll have to have a free day the next day and Jack can’t be in the house that night,” he explains his boundaries. “I’ll, of course, give you aftercare right after and when you’re okay, we can switch?”
She pets his hair and nods, “Of course, my love. I’ll take the best care of you after. I appreciate everything you’re willing to do for me.”
“You just have to get the mask and maybe we can talk about the specifics of a script or series of events for the night,” he whispers, brushing his nose against hers. “Maybe you can get something new to wear during it?”
She likes the sound of that, but she just has one question. “Black or red?”
He gets a burner phone a week before the scene is set to happen. He doesn’t tell her thats what he’s done but when he’s getting ready to leave for work one night he smirks from the closet and says “if you get a phone call from an unknown number… be sure to answer, okay?”
She knows he has a class tonight, he has Introduction to Legal Skills from 6-8 and then Trial Advocacy from 9-11:30. Jack goes to bed around 10:30, so she knows he’ll call sometime after Jack's in bed. Otherwise, he could hear the conversation and either be scared for life knowing his parents had kinky sex or grow concerned that his stepmom had a real stalker after her. And he’s been traumatized enough for a 17-year-old boy.
Sure enough, her phone rings at 11:45 while she’s in the living room, on her phone with the TV on in the background.
“Hello?” She answers, a fake sense of nervousness in her voice.
“What are you watching, Y/N?” He asks, his voice deeper than usual. Almost scarily deep.
“Excuse me?” She can’t believe he’s really doing this. “Who is this?”
“Have you never watched a scary movie before? You should know asking that is a death wish,” he teases. “But you never answered my question.”
“How do you even know I’m watching TV?” She asks, it’s not like the sound is up. She looks out the window to make sure he’s not out there, completely forgetting that they have security cameras inside and he can access them on his real cellphone.
“You’re on the couch, in a cute little black tank top and shorts… aren’t you cold? It’s October.”
“How do you know that?”
“I know a lot more than you think,” he taunts.
“Then shouldn’t I know something about you too?” She asks, turning it back on him. “Don’t you think that’s fair?”
“Hmm… I suppose it would, but isn’t part of the fun all in the mystery?”
“You must know my husband used to be an FBI agent so—
“Ah yes, agent Hotchner,” he laughs. “Retired, haunted, old man, Aaron Hotchner.”
“He can still kick your ass,” she assures. Both scaring this character and stroking his ego at the same time. “And enjoy doing it.”
“We’ll see about that.” He says before hanging up.
It makes shivers run down her spine and all the hair on her body stands tall. If she didn’t know this was actually him, it would be incredibly terrifying. Yet for some reason, she’s more turned on right now than anything.
When he gets home that night, she’s still in the living room. Waiting for him. He puts his bag down, kicks off his shoes and hangs up his coat before making his way over to her and crashing down onto the couch. He lays his head into her lap and she brushes his hair back, “tough class?”
He nods, “they asked so many questions. It’s literally not even that hard.”
“Awe,” she sympathizes. “Not everyone is as smart as you, handsome.”
“How was your night?” He looks up at her with a smile.
“Good, Jack drove us to get some ice cream tonight and he was actually really good at it this time and then I got a weird phone call…”
“Huh,” he raises his brows quickly. “Weird… do you know who it was?”
“No idea.”
“Well, just keep an eye on it,” he advises. The profiler in him wants to say don’t answer the phone again but the game was too fun. He wanted her to answer again, he wanted to tease her, he wanted to make it as real as possible.
This was going to be a fun week.
She gets a call every night that week. The calls last anywhere from a minute to 10, depending on how long she can keep him talking in his sexy deep voice. She switches into a cute little night dress before their next conversation and she sits on the couch facing their security camera with the hem of her nightgown pushed up a bit too high… giving him a show.
“So…” she asks, wishing she had an old corded phone to twirl around her fingers. “What do you look like? Are you cute at least?”
He snickers, “That’s your question today? Really?”
“Yep, I mean if you’re going to stalk me and find me and make me yours, you better be hot,” she teases him.
“I’m… average, I guess?” He struggles to compliment himself.
“I figured you wouldn’t be as handsome as my husband…”
He sighs, “I’m going to make you pay for all these comments.”
She laughs, “okay… I’m sure.”
“Taunting a psychopath is never a good—
“That’s a lie, I know from my husband that sometimes taunting them is what they need. Sometimes they’re such losers that this is all an act, pissing them off makes them slip up and expose themself… so is this all an act? Are you secretly a loser who needs attention? What, did your mommy not love you enough growing up? Or was it daddy beating you that made you this way?”
“You’ve got two days,” he reminds her. “I’m going to get you.”
He hangs up and she smirks, she loves riling him up like this. She knows that once he gets his hands on her, once he has that mask on, she’s in for the ride of her life.
Sure enough, the Friday before Halloween, Jack heads out to a party and says he’ll be sleeping over at a friend's house that night. His phone is charged, his costume is on and his ride is about to pull up to their driveway.
“You remember you can call either one of us, at any time of the night, and we will come get you,” she reminds him. “No matter what state you’re in… I understand that drinking is something you’ll probably do tonight, and I won’t tell your dad, but go easy. Have water between beers and don’t drink from a cup you didn’t pour yourself or one you left unattended no matter how much time passed. And if you feel weird, uncomfortable or you just want to come home, you call me.”
“I know, Mom,” he assures her, looking at her with that annoyed teenager look.
“And drugs… please, please be careful. Peer pressure is real, being curious is okay, but don’t do anything intense. Smoking copious amounts of weed before the age of 27 can stop your brain from fully forming and other drugs can literally kill you because you have no idea what they’re mixed with—
“Mom, I’m not going to do drugs tonight,” he cuts her off, looking as serious as his father can.
“Okay,” she lets out a deep breath just as the headlights shine through their stained glass front door. “Give me a hug,” she says, arms open and waiting for him.
He steps into her space and holds her tight, “I love you, be safe.”
“I love you too, I’ll text you when I’m on my way home tomorrow.”
“And before you go to bed too, please? Even if its just a heart emoji, I want to know you’re going to bed, I don’t care what time it comes in,” she stares him down before letting him pull away. “I love you.”
“Okay, okay,” he smiles. “I’ve got it, I’m going now. Have a good night.”
“Oh, I will,” she smirks.
“Gross!” He calls out as he heads out the door, skips down the stairs and heads out to his friend's mom's car. She waves at them, gets a wave from the driver back and then they’re gone.
She locks the door once he’s gone, turns off the lights downstairs and heads up to her room where she changes into the new lingerie she bought at Aaron’s request and she lights a few candles around her room. She grabs the mask from her closet as well as a black silk robe and black boxer briefs and she lays them all on the table in the entryway downstairs with a note that says “Wear me.”
She goes to the kitchen and gets them some snacks for after, a couple water bottles and his bottle of scotch with a glass in case that’s what he wants after. He needs to be able to relax and unwind and know he did a good job and he’s not a bad guy for divulging in this role-play for her. If anything, he’s the best man in the world being able to do this for his wife.
And she waits in her room.
The first call she gets is from Aaron, 10 minutes after his class ends.
“Hey baby,” she answers quickly.
“Are we still on for tonight?” He double-checked, making sure nothing had changed between his leaving for work and now.
“Mhm, I’m waiting for Mr. Ghostface to arrive,” she whispers, voice low and dark. Making sure he knows just how ready she is.
“And you remember the safe word?”
She hums again, “I do, and we can both use it, remember?”
“I will if I need to,” he says and she can hear the smile on his face. “Did Jack leave okay?”
“Yeah, about an hour ago,” she assures. “We’re all good to go unless he calls and needs to come home.”
“I’m sure he won’t,” Aaron’s positive. “Can you do me a favour?”
“Sure?”
“You put my mask downstairs?”
“I did,” she smirks. “And an outfit…”
“Oh, okay,” he sounds so excited. “Can you put my handcuffs down there too?”
“Are they in the safe?” She double-checks, cause the last time she saw them they were in his bedside drawer…
“They are…”
She gets up from the bed, goes into their closet and presses her thumb to the sensor, he could probably hear the lock click as the door swings open. He has 2 guns and his cuffs right there, sitting on top of their important documents and her most expensive jewelry.
“I’ll leave them downstairs for you,” she says as she takes them out and shuts the safe once more. “Anything else you want?”
“Just you,” he teases.
“okay well, I’ve got another phone call I’m expecting, so I should let you go,” she says while heading back down the stairs.
“Can we just pause for a sec?” He asks.
“Mhm, what’s up?”
“So you still want me to pretend to break in? We’re still doing everything we talked about?” He asks again, obviously nervous.
“Hey, we don’t have to do any of it if you’ve changed your mind?” She assures. “I mean it, we can just do something vanilla tonight, we don’t have to do a scene.”
“I want to make you happy—
“I won’t have fun if you don’t,” she resets the boundaries. “You tell me what you want to do and that’s what we’ll do.”
“I’m going to call you from outside, I’m going to make my way in and I’m going to sneak up the stairs and find you in the bedroom where I’m going to restrain you by cuffing you to the bedpost and have my way with you,” he lays out the series of events. “We’ll have sex, I’ll free you, I’ll take care of you until you calm down and then I would like some cuddles.”
“I have water and snacks in here waiting for us to be done, would you like a bath after?” She asks.
“Yeah, that would be nice,” he says and she can hear him smile again. “Okay, good. Good, we’re ready to go.”
“I love you,” she whispers. “I’m so excited to try this.”
“I love you more,” he reminds her and then he’s off. They say their final goodbye and she heads back upstairs to her room to await her hell prince.
She sees his headlights as he pulls into the driveway but she doesn’t hear his door shut, they just go out. That’s when her phone rings again.
“You again,” she teases right away. “Let me guess you know I’m home alone and you just wanna ‘talk’?”
“I just wanted to hear your pretty voice one last time,” he says with his deepest voice, it’s almost a growl.
Chills run down her spine once more. He’s way too good at this.
“What?” She asks, fear on her tongue.
“I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.”
“I’m not going anywhere?”
“You’re right… I’m coming to you.”
The line clicks and all she’s left with is the sound of her heartbeat in her ears… and her panties. Well, lack thereof. This set didn’t really leave much to the imagination. It was perfect to tear off. Easy to cut if need be. And currently, soaked.
Her ears feel like they’re on fire as she tries her hardest to listen to what’s going on downstairs. Either he’s being extra quiet or he’s not in the house yet. But he will be. He’ll change and he’ll climb the stairs and push her door open and take her. And she’ll take him. She’ll take him so good he’ll want to wear this fucking mask all the goddamn time.
And then the stairs of their century home creak, one by one as he climbs them ever so slowly. Slower than ever before. They creek and pop, they whine and echo down the hall towards her bedroom. There are only two times that these stairs sounding this awful are so helpful and it’s during role-plays like this and when their teenager sneaks out at night.
He makes his way down the hallway, towards the bedroom door and he looks through the crack. Mask on, that classic screaming, white face shines through the dark. He pushes the door open, making it squeal on rusty hinges. They really need to fix those.
“Aaron?” She calls out.
“Think again,” he teases, voice muffled behind the mask but still deep.
She scoots up the bed, drawing her knees in closer to her body as she cowers away. Checking him out in the meantime. The way he’s hard in his boxers, how his robe opens to show off his cute tummy and salt and pepper treasure trail… he’s delicious and all hers.
He creeps forward, “Don’t you know the rules to survival in a horror movie?” She shakes her head in fear. “Rule number one, sex equals death.”
“I wasn’t—
“But you were ready for it,” he points at her with his free hand and she notices how he’s gripping his cuffs with the other. He starts to twirl the cuff around his finger while chuckling deep from within. “What a shame he leaves a sexy thing like you home all by yourself most nights…”
“He’ll be home any—
“No, he won’t,” he taunts, and she can hear the smirk on his face. “I’ll be long finished with you by the time he comes back.”
He pounced on the bed, struggled with her to get a cuff on her one wrist and bring them both up to the headboard so he could loop the cuffs around the bars and trap her there. “You’re mine.”
“Please don’t do this,” she begs, trying her hardest to stay in character.
“Boo hoo,” he says, really not giving a shit what she wants or doesn’t. He straddles her waist and walks on his knees until his junk is right there near her face. “You’re going to take what I give you.”
She can’t help sticking her tongue out, wetting the fabric of his boxers as he presses his bulge against her face. Mouth watering, she can smell him under the fragrance of their detergent on his boxers. “Cock drunk already? You’re such a good little slut, no wonder that old man loves you.”
She whines, “Please Mr. Ghostface…”
“Say it,” he growls.
“Let me suck your cock, please? I need it,” she begs this time, watching him pull his boxers down just enough to expose his cock.
It stands tall, he grips himself by the base and taps it against her tongue a few times and she moans before licking at the head and taking him into her mouth. She drags her tongue along the pulsating vein on the underside of his perfect cock. He’s uncut and thick and her mouth is watering by the time she takes him between her lips. She relaxes her jaw, avoids her teeth, and uses her tongue around the head… all things he’s asked her to do for him in the past. This is the only cock she’s sucked and actually enjoyed doing it in her whole life.
The man above her grips her hair tighter and groans, “sweet christ… such a good little slut for me, taking my cock like a fucking champ.”
She hums around him, so content already but the praise mixed with the degrading words… fuck, was it ever good? She gains more confidence, sucking this man's cock like her life depends on it. Wet and sloppy, she gets drool all over her chin and it drips down her neck to pool at the pillows but she doesn’t give a fuck. She takes him deeper, letting the man fuck her throat, breathing through her nose with her eyes shut, she gags slightly but it’s bearable, she likes it… Mr. Ghostface really likes it, too, if his moans behind the mask are any indication.
He drags his hand from her hair, down the side of her face and he cups her cheek as he pulls out, hearing her whine. “If I’m going to fuck you, I’m gonna need this back,” he teases.
She whines again, “but, but?” Her voice horse and her breathing heavy.
“But nothing, you’re going to sit there and you’re going to take it like a good little whore I know you are,” he taunts.
Getting off her and the bed, he lets his boxers go and he tosses off the stupid little robe he was wearing to complete the fit. Now naked except for his mask, he pulls her beside drawer open and pulls out her vibrator and the pocket knife she keeps there for… reasons like the time she couldn’t get the knots undone when she restrained him once.
He tosses the vibe on the bed and flips the blade out of the pocket knife. She squirms, “What are you going to do with that?”
“Cut these new panties off you… never saw these in the drawer the last time I was in here,” he says, building the story more.
“You’ve…you’ve been in my home before?”
He nods, “many times.”
“You’re a sick fuck,” she spits at him.
“Mhm and you’re going to love it,” he says as he climbs back between her legs.
He drags the tip of the blade from her stomach to her hip, down her thigh and back up. “Look at the way you quiver for me, how eager you are to spread your legs… don’t tell me your FBI boyfriend taught you to just give it up like this?”
“Husband,” she corrects him.
“Boring,” he taunts. “Husbands are useless, you get boring sex and boring conversations and then they die.”
He slips the blade under the elastic on her hip and starts to cut it off. Slowly, she feels the fabric snap apart and exposes her to him. He grips the hem on her other hip and pulls her panties off the one leg he didn’t destroy. He flings them off and tosses the knife onto her bedside table but he tosses it too hard and it slides all the way off, behind the table and almost takes the lamp out with it. “Oops,” he laughs from deep within.
He takes the vibrator back in his hand and turns it on, “I can’t eat you out without showing you my face, so I guess I’m going to have to make you cum a few times with this…”
“Fuck,” she whines, legs spread as she arches closer to the sound of the buzzing.
On the lowest setting, he drags the head of the vibe over her inner thigh and over her hip bone. Up her stomach and then onto her hardened nipple. She whines again, “please? Please Mr. Ghostface?”
He hums, “Be patient, slut.”
He runs it over her other nipple, watching as she tosses her head back and bites her lip, hard. She tugs at the cuffs, making them click against the metal bed poles as she soots down the bed, trying to get closer to him, begging for some friction where she needs it most.
He slowly brings the vibe back down her body and presses it to her clit a bit roughly, he presses the button to speed it up, putting it on the second speed and hearing her yelp. “oh my god?” She grinds against it, “holy fuck.”
“Don’t be afraid to make some noise, we’re all alone here tonight,” he assures. “And if we’re not… if your husband walks in on us I want him to hear how much of a slut you’ve been for me. Let him know what you want can’t be achieved by him.”
She moans again, it’s oddly hot pretending to cheat on him… he leans in closer to her, holding the vibe to her clit as he hovers over her. She leans forward, wanting to kiss him even though he’s in a mask, she whines, “Need you,” she whispers. “Please?”
“Cum for me first,” he says, shaking his head. “I want you soaked and trembling when I slip into you. And if you’re good, maybe I’ll un-cuff you for it.”
“Oh god,” she arches her hips again, pressing herself against the vibrator even more, “Oh please?”
“Close already?” He teases, pressing the button again so it can go as fast as possible. “Go on whore, you can do it. Cum for me.”
Her thighs are absolutely trembling as she gets closer. With her eyes tightly shut and her jaw dropped, she lets out breathy moans and rides the head of the vibrator. He’s so close to her, pressed to her side with his hard cock resting on her hip, “you’re doing so good, baby, come on, it’s right there,” he praises her, letting his character slip a bit.
She accidentally says his name as the dam breaks, she cums with a quake, “Oh my god, oh fuck,” she whines as he keeps holding the vibrator to her clit and she can’t pull away from him.
He snickers, “There she is, I love that noise you make when you cum on this thing.”
“How—
“You keep asking stupid questions,” he cuts her off. “What part of I’ve been stalking you can’t you get through your thick skull?”
“Please, please stop?” She begs. “S’too much.”
He pulls back just for a second, causing her to sigh and then he presses the vibrator right back to her. “You really thought I’d let you stop at just one? When I know you like to cum at least 3 times… that’s why you got this toy, isn’t it? Cause that old man you’re shackled to can’t go more than one round without getting tired.”
“Fuck you,” she spits, whining and grinding against the toy in her overstimulation.
“Oh, you will,” he whispers. “I’m going to get you all pliant and dumb and then I’m going to flip you over and fuck you senseless like the little pet that you are. Maybe I’ll even keep you forever? Get you a cute little collar and a leash and make you mine.”
She moans again, bucking her hips towards the feeling, he knows it takes her a bit longer to get to the second one sometimes. So he keeps talking. “I know just how much you like that, being fucked in doggy. You like being held down, feeling my balls clap against your ass while I fuck you deep and hard. When I push my weight against you… and when I wrap my hand around your throat to draw you in for a kiss.”
She doesn’t give any warning, she just comes right then and it’s clearly a shock to her too. She shakes like mad and not a single coherent sound leaves her mouth. She’s completely wrecked, cock-drunk and ready for more. He turns off the vibrator and lets her relax for just a moment, he runs his hand over her stomach and up to her boobs, cupping it and rubbing his thumb over her nipple, making her twitch again. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you…”
She just nods, trying to catch her breath, she can’t find any words to say.
“If I un-cuff you, are you going to run away?” He asks, watching her shake her head. “Didn’t think so… not like you could with your jello legs.”
She smiles, full of euphoria, “yeah…”
He heads over to his own nightside table, the key is in a little dish where he puts his watch and ring at night. Although, his ring is downstairs tonight, to add to the ambiance that this is a stranger fucking her and not her husband in a mask.
He’s quick to get her out of the cuffs and he soothes over the ache in her wrists. “You okay?” He asks, his voice soft and low, breaking character slightly.
She nods, “you? It’s not too hot in there?”
“It’s fine,” he nods too. “Ready?”
She lets him roll her over, he gets her on her knees with her ass in the air and pushes her face into the pillow. “It’s time for the ride of your life.”
He taps his cock against her ass cheek, making it jiggle. He loves her curves and her flub and the way she shakes and jiggles and how he has all this skin to hold onto while he fucks her like this. He grips her cheeks, spreading them apart to see how much of her cum has slipped down from one hole to the other, she’s glistening and wet and so, so ready for him to fuck her. He grinds his cock between her folds, using her slick to coat himself and glide back and forth, teasingly, before he sticks it in.
He doesn’t give any warning, he simply rams his cock into her, making her gasp. “Oh, you feel better than I imagined…” He pulls out slightly and slams back inside again and again, not giving her any time adjust to it. “Been obsessed with the idea of fucking this pussy from the moment I first laid eyed on you. Knew you’d take me so well.”
She whines into the pillow, reaching her hand back, he holds it and goes to reach for the other. Holding both her hands, making her hold herself up with her core muscles as he fucked into her. Her tits dangle and shake with the force of his thrusts, she makes the most whorish moans and gasps. When she gets tired, she pushes her face back into the mattress and arches her back even more.
She mumbles into the pillow and he grips her hair, pulling her back, “what?”
“Harder!” She eggs him on.
Chuckling, “Such a good whore…” he teases. He reaches for the vibrator and turns it on. He slips it underneath her and he pushes on her back so that she can grind against it as he fucks her harder. Absolutely ramming into her, she goes feral for it. Making noises he hasn’t ever heard from her before as the bed hits the wall at a jackhammering rhythm.
She grips the sheets like her life depends on it, drooling into the mattress where her face is pressed, she screams as he hits her cervix hard. She’s so close, he can feel it by the way she clenches and sucks in him deeper, the sounds she’s making and the way she trembles. It’s intoxicating. He’s fucking addicted to it. He’s going to need to do this to her more often if she likes it this much…
She feels so good, but it’s everything else that’s got him so close to cumming deep inside of her. His rhythm changes as he gets closer. He ruts against her faster, making her ass shake even more as he chases his high. He’s breathing heavily, at a loss for words, but he knows how much she gets off on his voice. “Right there,” he pants. “Right fucking there, take it. Take it, whore. Oh, fuck, you feel so good. So fucking good for me.”
She says his name again, chanting it this time, “Aar!” She screams as she cums for the 3rd time tonight.
He fucks her through it, right there with her. He can feel her getting wetter than ever before like she’s managed to squirt and that gets him. He starts to cum, feeling it rush through his body as he fills her up. She lets out another moan, feeling him fuck his cum deeper into her a few times before he drops down onto her. She’s strong enough to push herself up and scoot up a bit so she’s not trapped on top of the vibrator and they both sigh. He takes off the mask and throws it to the side, slipping out of her, he lays on her side with his arm slung around her. She turns to the side, crawls over him and cups his face in her hands. She kisses him, hard. His hands roam her back as she swipes her tongue over his bottom lip, silently asking for more.
She’s always been a kisser during sex, it really killed her to not be able to kiss him during that. It was so hot… it was everything she wanted and now it was her turn to thank him. She pushes his sweaty hair back and hums into his mouth, she kisses the side of his lips and then his jaw over to his ear. “That was everything…”
“I did good?” He asks, fucked out and dropping slowly.
“So, so good, baby,” she praises. “I loved every second of it. You’re so good to me, you always do what I ask for. I love you.”
“I love you,” he whispers back, holding her closer with his big hands cradling her back. She kisses his neck once more and goes to sit up but he wants to cuddle just a little longer. “Stay.”
“Okay,” she rests against him, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. “We’ll clean up when you’re ready.”
He runs his fingers up and down her back, she traces a heart over his chest with her nail and smiles. She’s so relaxed, so tired and so, so happy to be with him. “You’re amazing, Aar-bear.”
“You’re… you’re everything,” he says at a loss for words. “I can’t believe how loud you got?”
She laughs, a little embarrassed, “well, we usually have a kid in the house so I can’t get like that… and if we hit his wall like that at night he’d lose his mind.”
Aaron laughs, “Yeah, I’ve gotta check and see if we chipped the paint…”
“When he goes to college we’ll have to put some foam on the back of the headboard,” she teases. “We can fuck like this all the time next year.”
He lets out a sigh, “Yeah… we definitely need to do more role plays.”
“And you can pick them too, you know?” She says, sitting up to look at him. “Anything you want, we’ll do that next.”
“Right now I just want to have a bath with you and then change the sheets and go to sleep,” he says with a smile.
“Okay,” she agrees. She gets up carefully, a little sore and she’s definitely going to be feeling it tomorrow… she takes the vibe off the bed and finally turns it off, throwing it back into her night table to worry about later. There’s a huge wet spot on the bed where it was. “Did I…”
He smirks, “I think you did… it was hot.”
“Wow,” she’s shocked and amazed.
“You go start the bath, I’ll strip the sheets,” he offers. “Put in whatever you want.”
“Do you want a drink?” She asks. “I brought your scotch up, too.”
“You really are the most perfect woman,” he praises with a smile.
She picks up his mask from the floor, it landed pretty close to where her underwear ended up. She gathers all their clothes and tosses them into the dirty laundry, but his mask… his mask goes into the closet where it will stay until they need it again.
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arafilez · 2 days
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ▰ ▰ ✶ WØRLD EPISØDE FIN: WILL ⪨
ㅤㅤ➛ ㅤiv.ㅤ ARRIBA 𒉽 kang yeosang❛ 𓇿
🥂̸̤ㅤㅤMDNI smut e2lㅤ ✸ㅤyou are sick and tired of this mission but you will do it, you will kill himㅤㅤ───ㅤㅤ w: weapon usage, blood, extreme injuries, sex ㅤㅤ»ㅤㅤ wc: 4.5kㅤㅤ𠈔ㅤㅤ moodboard
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ❛ lacuca racha, step in step cha cha . ❜
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“Oh for fuck’s sake send someone else,” you scream at your mission email and threw your head back in the chair. This is stupid, this is absolutely and horrifyingly stupid. You have done this mission two times now and failed.
And it frustrates you.
You have never failed any mission and this new one which you have tried two times in the last month has brought you nothing but failure. It also made you injure badly at your waistline which is still in its healing phase but at least you can run and combat now. But suddenly the same mission is handled to you again after four weeks of resting period.
Kill Agent ‘K.Ys’ from Ateez.
Just on the day you come back.
Terrific.
You stand up kicking the chair in rage as it slams into the wall behind you and walk towards your boss’s office. Knocking on the door, you don’t bother waiting for a ‘come in’ as you strut inside and slam the papers on his table.
Your boss doesn’t turn around and maintains a calm demeanour as if he is expecting you and it infuriates you more as he slowly turns around to see you.
“Well, I see you got your mission,” he grins and you roll your eyes visibly.
“Sir, I am obviously injured, I have failed the last two times I tried this, you should be sending someone better,” you reason calmly even though just a few seconds ago you slammed the door.
He chuckles and you shiver at the underlying sarcasm in it and you look at him as he stands up. “For an agent, you are obviously not very clever, are you y/n?”
“Sir, I don’t understand,” you stutter out getting nervous at his figure. His eyes search your face and you shiver lightly at the thoughts which you are aware he is plotting in his mind.
“You are our best agent for this, you have done it two times, so you can do it again. The third time is a charm, as they say,” his voice suddenly turns sweet and cheerful and your doubts increase at his sickly tone, why is he behaving like this?
You decide not to question and nod your head wordlessly working your way towards the door as your hand lingers over the knob.
He was just being nice, right? Even though he did say you are stupid and suddenly changed his sentence to something better.
You wear your tactical suit and make sure the guns and the knives are in place along with the small loop earring that acts as a laser. You carry another gun too this time because you don’t know how your meeting will go with K.Ys this time.
You turn around murmuring a quiet, “I will not disappoint you, Sir,” and leave. He is definitely up to something. And that something includes you.
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K.Ys and you are known for your notorious encounters. Your past meetings have been rather interesting.
Apart from your missions to kill him you have seen him multiple times in your stakeouts. The known-for-his-words seducer, the model-faced seducer of Ateez. As an enemy agent it went way beyond your ethics how the girls just lay on his feet.
K.Ys, whose real name is still unknown to you, is a man who has a way with his words. The amount of times he had tried to rope you in with his sweet words, and seductive language and the equal number of times you had almost twisted a knife in his body. Like is he hot? Yes, maybe, probably, definitely! But lying on his feet for that? Absolutely not, where are people’s dignity nowadays?
“One more sentence from that mouth of yours and I will twist you to death,” you warned him.
“I would like to see you try, my love,” he spoke with an enamouring smile that you had half the mind to slap it off.
So when you were finally assigned to eliminate him a month ago you could have never been happier. Finally you will get to see him shut up that too under your mercy. Too bad, he was actually really hard to kill.
The first time you were finally assigned to kill him you had walked past the wired barriers and quietly entered the abandoned factory you were given information as the temporary base for Ateez K.Ys. You had backup waiting out for your signal and you entered the password for the door only to be hit with an ‘Access denied.’ Your brows furrowed in confusion and you tried it again but the same red light popped up. You racked your brain and spoke through your earpiece about the problem only for your boss to yell that you were the one wrong and he should have sent someone better.
Getting annoyed at his continuous comments you yanked off your earpiece, put it in your pocket and tried again. Same result!
“What are you looking for sweetheart?” his deep voice interrupted you as your hands hovered over the lock. You turn around swiftly push him to the door and hold a knife to the person’s throat and he merely chuckles. The dim light showed off his perfect features as you tried to scan his face and there he was, in all his glory, K.Ys of Ateez.
You internally cursed yourself for tugging over your earpiece but maintained a stern stance as you spoke up, “Well, you are a lot more tolerable when under my knife, Agent K.Ys.”
He merely chuckled at your sentence and paid no heed to the knife in front of his throat as he said, “What a pleasant surprise!” His demeanour had a dangerous edge to it and you felt him scanning your face with his eyes he spoke up again, “I assume you are here to kill me?”
“Yes,” you shrugged and took out your gun to eliminate him. This was easy, your boss was worried for nothing. You hold it at his head and just as you were about to pull the trigger K.Ys vanished. You gasped out visibly confused and before you could act someone came behind your back and slashed you with a knife. The warmth oozed your skin as you groaned and turning around you saw the same man now smirking. The superficial cut was in the back of your mind now, as you ran and punched him in the face as he held your fist easily.
“Drooling over a hologram sweety? That’s how handsome I am, aren’t I?” he whispered and twisted your arm as you groaned in pain sitting on your knees. You definitely should not have pulled off that earpiece.
You slid on the ground kicked his shin and picked up your gun from the ground. “Too cocky, aren’t we?” you smirked swirling your gun in your hand.
“Oh darling, you should not try to kill me,” his voice increased in his pitch of seduction and you rolled your eyes kicking his stomach again and he groaned from the contact. Chuckling at him you aimed your gun but before you could shoot something hit the back of your head and you blacked out.
The second time, you were in disguise. You had information about the club he was going to and used his seducing skills for information and you readied yourself for it. A red sleek dress with a thigh slit, red heels, red lips, and red highlights in your hair. You put on a face mask and wore the thigh chain which would work as the recorder, hid the gun in your dress and attached a katana inside your shoe.
You walk inside the club getting induced by the smell of alcohol and sweaty bodies. Emotionless, meaningless conversation filled your ear and made you wonder why you took up a job in this dimension.
Not wanting to dwell with your thoughts you made your way towards the back room and entered it. The first scene you saw made you roll your eyes as a girl ground on K.Ys as he whispered in her ears and she repeated it.
Suddenly his gaze fell on you and dark eyes glazed your body and you tried to discard the heavy feeling under his eyes checking you out. On the good side, your plan was up and working. You smiled through your face mask and he smirked back suddenly the person in front of him was of no use anymore as he made her get off his lap. You snickered to yourself as you saw her leaving without even one release and made your way towards him rocking your hips lightly.
“Oh babygirl, you found the right person for you,” he whispers as you straddle him and he circles his hand around your hips. His heated gaze made you light-headed as you scolded yourself and you’re hormones for it but you returned it back and slowly kissed the corner of his lips.
“Teasing me now?” he voiced out as another hand caressed your waistline and you pulled your hair to the side exposing your neck area. His eyes landed on your neck as he kissed your collarbones and made his way up. You pulled up your leg and circled it around his waist and the katana was almost out. You just have to push it inside him.
“So pretty,” he kisses your jawline and starts sucking on it as you moan out a little too loud for your acting but tighten your hands around the katana. You had to kill him.
Your eyes widened as you felt a dagger pierce your waistline making you limp against his figure. It is twisted in and a strangled cry left your throat as you fell. You looked up through hazed eyes and watched him leave before backup arrived.
You walk inside the alley with the white cloak wrapped around your body and head to kill K.Ys for the third time. To say you are desperate to kill him is wrong. You are more than desperate. You are sick and tired of your boss treating you like a toy, sending you on the same mission and trashing you when you return unsuccessful.
Your mind fills with hatred towards him and the way you felt your weaknesses emerging and you decide that this time you will do it. You will kill K.Ys.
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This is stupid in more ways than one.
You look around subtly keeping a watch for him and clutch the gun at your hips. You have to do it, you have to kill him. And you have to get out without getting hurt.
Yeosang knew you were coming, all courtesy of Wooyoung and his twin’s hacking skills and he smirks to himself as soon as he hears Wooyoung through his ear-piece point out which one is you. He watches carefully as you go past him and shakes his head to himself. You are subtle, he will give you that. But he was able to notice your ministrations and continuous fidgeting.
He tilts his head to his side and walks towards the end of the alley and he is aware of the subtle footsteps behind him. He confidently goes towards the storeroom and doesn’t bother to look back.
You see him not turning as you pick up your pace and walk behind him. He opens the sliding door and slowly turn around and lock your eyes with him. Your hood is down as you take in his features slowly, the mint highlights below the black hair, his sharp nose bridge, a remarkable face and the sheer suit he was wearing.
And you run.
He only watches, one eyebrow-raising at you and you take your gun and click the trigger multiple times. Yeosang simply dodges the bullets and you run faster and enter the storeroom.
The door shuts behind you and your senses click. This was a trap and you walked right into it. Nevertheless, you clutch your gun and look around.
You click on your gun lightly and discard the cloak. Crouching below you hide yourself behind the numerous boxes and your feet silently trudge the ground.
“You are the pawn again, y/n?” you hear K.Ys’s voice boom through the factory and he somehow knew your name. You resist the urge to get up and get a look at him and shoot the bullet.
Yeosang clicks his tongue and continues, “But you are too pretty to be killed.”
Your blood boils at his words and before you can think with your mind, you get up and fire a bullet in his direction. He dodges it pretty easily and chuckles saying, “Don’t use up all your bullets, babygirl.”
You walk towards him as you say, “I will if it means you will be dead for good.”
“Full of spite now, aren’t we?” he smirks tilting his head and walking towards you. Your eyes travel down the muscles twitching under his sheer sleeves and your eyes wander on them a bit before you regain your posture and cock your gun at him.
“Oh darling, you may not want to kill me,” he says his voice turning sickly sweet and you let out a sarcastic laugh and say, “Keep repeating those sentences K.Ys and-“
“My name is Kang Yeosang, love, learn it,” and as soon as he says that you push him towards the boxes as some of them tumble behind and hold the gun to his head.
“The only difference between the last times you said those sentences is that you lived and today you will die, Kang Yeosang” you reply, your eyes glazing over the man at your gunpoint, a satisfied smile tinting your lips.
Yeosang tilts his head in amusement and swiftly yanks your hand on the gun towards him making you stumble over his figure for a millisecond and suddenly you are the one pinned to the boxes. You two keep fighting with good amounts of defence. You kick him on the knees making him groan after some seconds but he quickly gets up and pushes you to the nearest wall glaring at you.
You glare back at him and as if a switch goes on inside Yeosang he says, “Are you sure you aren’t here just to have a good time? Did your boss send the good girl to have a taste of my dick?”
“Shut the fuck up, I hate you,” you grit out pushing him but to no avail and he laughs looking at you, his deep laughter echoing through the storeroom. He pins your hand behind you stands up against the wall properly and hovers over your figure.
“And I hate the way you laugh so much at your useless teammates’ lame jokes, but we are not on complaining basis now, are we?” he challenges and your eyes scan his face. In all your six months of countless encounters of his arrogance and your stubbornness you might have realise that, in fact, he really is good looking.
“Playing hard to get won’t get you anywhere, darling,” he purrs and you whimper as your mind travels places. Blame Yeosang’s seductive words, or his deep voice, or you not being able to get a good fuck for years now your mind pauses to think. You feel yourself getting lightheaded at his words.
He is a seducer for god’s sake, of course, he is good, and you are here to kill him so get your priorities straight, your mind screams at you. A pathetic whine leaves your throat when you feel Yeosang lightly kissing the skin behind your ear, his hands hovering over your waist hovering a bit.
Fuck priorities, you scream internally and your reactions amuse Yeosang as he grips your hips tighter and you moan at him whispering right into your ear, “Just as I thought, you are all talk and no bite.”
You gasp loudly and open your eyes to see him. The well-lit storeroom accentuates his features as you see his dark, lust-filled eyes boring into yours. You take in his face that looks like a sculpture and you curse the Gods for making a man this beautiful.
“I hate you so much,” you breathe heavily and watch his eyes run all over your face before grinning, “That’s not new, tell me something I don’t know.”
“You can’t get information from me, Kang,” you glare at him and you see a shift in his eyes as it locks with yours, “Are you sure you want this?” You stare at him dumbfounded, you mind clouding at the thought of his hands being pressed to your body, his mouth leaving warm, open kisses and you a whine leaves your throat. “Fuck yes,” you say.
He smirks at your answer pressing his lips at the base of your jaw. You feel his nose brushing along as his soft lips imprint on your skin and you throw your head back to the wall. Your hormones are acting up too wildly for your own good.
“Yo-You are fucking insane,” you breathe out and he merely smirks saying, “You are the one falling apart when I have barely touched you princess.”
“I need you,” you whine pathetically, the thoughts of killing him at the back of your mind. You can kill him after he fucks you for all you care. You will think about your dignity some other time too. Right now you just need him inside you.
He sucks your neck harshly at your words, his teeth clashing on your skin making you cry at the contact. He pulls back shortly admiring his work and presses his lips to yours. You kiss him back and the kiss is everything but soft, tongues fighting for dominance, teeth clashing and you groan as you fill him manoeuvre you by clutching your head and pushing it closer to his.
A string of saliva interconnects you two as he leaves your lips and presses light kisses, unsure fingers hovering over the zipper of your body suit. His breathless features and messy hair send a rush down to your core making you grow impatient by every second.
“Yeosang just take it off,” you whine and he is quick to tear it off your body and drinks in your sight. He feels himself getting hard as he slides off your panties and inserts his digits pushing them in with no mercy.
A strangled cry leaves your throat at the sudden contact while Yeosang pushes his fingers inside scissoring you open. “Fuck princess, so wet, only for me isn’t it?”
Your malicious words dry at the back of your throat and you can only mewl, he smirks at your fucked out state saying, “You were talking big a moment ago, what happened now?”
A half-whine half-gasp leaves your throat at his words and he continues, “Boys here can’t fuck you like this can they, princess?”
“N-no they can’t, oh my god,” you gasp as Yeosang’s finger hits your G-spot repeatedly making you dizzy and you hear the slick sounds of your clit filling the room. Pressure builds up in your stomach and Yeosang can feel it too with the way you are clenching around him making him pull away,
A disappointed grunt leaves your lips and you mutter, “Asshole.”
“Keep talking like that and I will leave you here to fend for yourself.”
“You are so full of yourself.”
“And you are about to be full of me but you don’t see me complaining do you?”
You shut up soon and feel your mouth watering as he takes off his suit and you stare at the bulge in front of you. He smirks at your reaction pushing you back to the wall.
You cry loudly as he pushes his cock inside you and grip his shoulders and he gives you time to adjust. As soon as you nod he thrusts into you repeatedly broken whimpers falling from your lips. He groans himself but still takes his chance as he intakes your figure and says, “I wonder what your boss’s reaction will be after he knows his ‘best agent’ got fucked senseless by K.Ys.”
Your nerves heighten at his words, at the knowledge of your boss, at the fact that you are in fact supposed to be killing and you mewl a quiet “faster” to him as he pounds into you relentlessly. Your throat feels dry and you can’t even form a proper sentence as he abuses you hole, hitting in the right place every time.
“Come on princess, don’t be so quiet now. Show some gratitude for being fucked as you deserve and moan my name,” Yeosang hoarsely speaks up and you let out broken and loud moans at his words.
“That’s right, nobody can fuck you as I do, can they babygirl?” you scream at his words saying, “No, o-only you.”
“C-close,” you mumble at him, your senses at the peak of not getting your release earlier and he pushes himself in again saying, “Yeah? Well, I don’t know if I should let you come yet.”
“Shit, Yeo please,” you cry out at his words and a teasing smile lingers on his lips at the nickname and he whispers, “Okay love, cum, let go for me.” A loud moan of his name leaves your throat as you finally get to release and he thrusts himself through it coming soon in the condom after you.
You pant heavily your legs feeling like jelly and he pulls himself out and murmurs a small “I got you”. He holds your waists, makes you sit down and kneels in front of you carefully.
“What the hell are you doing to me Kang Yeosang?” you whisper as you see him cradle you, your head falling on his shoulders as he picks up your gun, katana and suit and keeps them beside you.
“You are supposed to kill me,” you whisper but Yeosang pays no heed to your words as he scans your body for any mark that would hurt. His eyes stop on your own, and you feel delusional as his soft brown ones hold your gaze. No way in hell is he now going all soft on you!
“Why do you always let your boss treat you like a pawn?” he whispers and you rest your head on his shoulders again. Your eyebrows furrow at his sentence and ask, “What do you mean?”
“You are like a suicide bomber to them, they send you to lure me and then try to kill both of us,” he says softly, one hand caressing your hair but suddenly you hold the hand and yank him away. You glare at him, the light constriction in your throat becoming worse every second. Just the time you thought he is being nice!
“Stop with the brainwashing, if you want to kill me do it now,” you grit your teeth, eyes seething with anger and he sighs handing you your earpiece. “Listen for yourself,” he says but you ignore him. You put on your suit hurriedly and he watches you as you put on the earpiece.
Your ears feel the familiarity of the machine as you are about to pick up your gun and suddenly your boss’s voice floats in your ear.
“She is dead already I think, easier for us, you know K.Ys is in there so kill him, go.”
You stop dead on your track and suddenly everything hits. Your boss’s weird change in behaviour, his fake smiles, him handing you this mission specifically. But how did Yeosang know?
“Yeosang, h-how did you know?” you look up at him and he watches you slowly pick up your hand, clutching the gun so tight he can almost see your knuckles whitening.
“I saw them attack you both times and we saved you the second time,” he speaks nonchalantly as if saving your enemy agent is the most normal thing ever. Your eyes float with confusion and thus Yeosang explains it in short.
Yeosang saw the figure behind you hitting your head and he quickly called for their fighting team. Before the person can even touch Yeosang, San jumps in and kills him. His eyes moved to you and Yeosang shrugged confused as to why your people were trying to kill you. Seonghwa quickly pulled him out of there but his eyes lingered on your figure but left you there.
The second time Yeosang looked up in horror when the same man who slashed your waistline pounded on him. Yeosang had skills and fought the man and soon was assisted and after they made sure he was dead he looked at you.
“They keep sending her as a pawn,” Seonghwa voiced his thoughts and Yeosang contemplated sometime before saying, “Should we bring her back to base?”
“Hongjoong is gonna kill you,” San whispered but looking at your unconscious face he sighed saying, “Fine, we will treat her and then leave her at her house with a sedative.”
Your house was pretty easy to find, all courtesy to the push-and-pull couple of Yunho and Wooyoung’s twin, as they treated you fast. Hongjoong seethed with anger but got defeated when Yeosang told him the plan. He has never seen Yeosang this worked up for anyone and even though it worried him, he knew he was treading another fire himself.
Yeosang, with the help of Mingi, had dropped you off at your house, with a perfectly clean bandage and with one last lingering look your way they had gone away.
“Is that why I was at the doorstep of my house?” you ask him softly and he nods unable to meet your eyes and you exhale. You were a pawn to them, a person they would happily kill for their sake. You, their best agent, were just prey to lure the predators.
“I might have hated your guts when we met a few months ago, but I don’t let anyone get treated like a pawn, and besides, you are not a bad person,“ he says, his mind hovering over his outburst at seeing you injured. He was very close to killing everyone who tried to kill you.
“Can I join you guys, take revenge here and go back to the A-dimension?” your sudden question makes Yeosang look up at you. He didn’t question why you were here in the first place but nodded.
“You still have to meet Hongjoong though,” he trails off unsure as he steps in front of you. A mixture of his cologne and sweat hits your nose and you sigh contently. You could get used to this. You could get used to him.
“I think he will like me considering how good I am at combat,” you smile lightly looking at his face and he shrugs, a light laugh falling from his lips as you continue, “And considering his seducer actually fell for one woman.”
“That’s a lie,” he scoffs but can’t resist it when you press your lips against his encasing him in a soft kiss. He kisses you back, his hands caressing your cheeks and you smile making him smile too.
You pull back staring at his eyes, deep in affection, and say, “Right, because you wait for consent and kiss the informants like this after too?”
“Shut up,” he groans and you laugh at his shy demeanour.
Holding his hands you say, “Call your fighting team, I want to show these Z-dimension bitches what their ‘pawn’ can do.” 
✸ㅤ ara's notesㅤㅤ───ㅤㅤ yeah, this one is changed, i improved it lmao ㅤㅤ»ㅤ series mlistㅤ ateez mlist ㅤ main mlist ㅤ naviㅤㅤ𠈔
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✸ㅤ taglistㅤㅤ───ㅤㅤ @haneagerr @tunaasan @evidive @huachengsbestie01 @philijack @atiny-lizbeth @chxnnii @nakiiko @therealcuppicake ㅤㅤ»ㅤㅤ comment here or in series mlist to be added or removedㅤㅤ𠈔
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buckyalpine · 2 years
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Live Stream
18+ Minors dni
Bucky x f reader, reader x avengers (platonic) 
A/N: My first piece of writing ever for the lovely @buckies-dolle’s writing challenge. I had so much fun with this!! I know its not amazing, I had 100 ideas I wanted to add. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Also please leave all the comments, would love to know what you think 💕🥺
Prompt: 29. Please what baby 
Warnings: Smutty smut (voyeurism, daddy kink, lil choking, breeding kink, unprotected sex) swearing, some angst (flashback with sad Bucky), Fluff! 
Word count: 6.7k It’s so long. I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t stop.
“Okay, seriously where the hell are they?”  Tony paced around the room, having lost contact with you and Bucky for over 12 hours. The mission was simple; retrieve a few files from an old inactive Hydra base, something you had done many times before. However, the long period of radio silence was starting to worry the team as they sat together watching the now blank screen that was previously sharing a live feed from the mission.
“Y/n’s done this before; she knows what she’s doing. The base is inactive anyway, I’m sure they’ve already finished and made it back to the safe house” Steve said but it was more to himself. He couldn’t help the anxiety that kept gnawing at the back of his mind thinking about Bucky. Even though Hydra no longer had any control over him, he worried for his best friend every time a mission involved the fucking group.
“They’ll be fine, they’ve never had any issues on missions before” Nat chimed in, though she also started to feel uneasy wondering if you were both okay.
“I know she can handle herself but the poor thing is stuck alone with tin man” Tony scoffed.
Steve quirked an eyebrow. “And that’s a problem because…?”
“Because y/n speaks like 3 words a year and all cyborg does is grunt and stare. This is their first mission partnered together and they go missing. Fantastic” Tony glared at the screen as if giving it the stink eye would force it to reconnect to the feed.
“We’ll try reaching them in an hour, their phones are probably dead” Steve sighed, getting up to stretch from the seat he sat in for the last 3 hours.  You were the newest agent to join the team just over two years ago. Highly skilled and an excellent assassin though initially, Tony had his doubts when Steve brought you in.
Flashback – 2 years ago
“I want to trust your word capsicle but I don’t see killer assassin. She looks like one of those dwarf bunnies Thor keeps insisting we get”
You were sitting outside of Tony’s lab anxiously picking at your nail polish. Steve was excited to introduce you to the team, knowing you’d be an excellent recruit but it would take some convincing.
“I promise she knows what she’s doing when she’s on the field, that’s when it matters, right?”
All it took was one mission for Tony to quickly backtrack on his words.
“How the hell did you manage to take them all down without making a sound?” Tony said, eyes wide as he saw 6 hydra guards slumped by the door while you wiped the blood from the knife onto your tactical pants.
“I’m just really quiet” you said with a small shy smile, quickly retreating down the hall to take up a new position.
On the field you showed nothing but blood lust. Every move was quick and calculated, wasting no time in taking down targets while lurking silently in the shadows. Outside of the field, you were completely different. You didn’t do great with large social gatherings but you were an excellent listener when someone needed to vent. Your skills also meant you were quick to notice people’s changes in mood and behavior. You noted exactly what they’d look for when they needed comfort. It made it easy for you to quietly take care of others, something you loved to do and they loved you for it. Peter enjoyed having someone who understood all his pop culture references. Nat and Wanda were ecstatic to have another girl join the team. Tony smiled every time he woke up in his lab to a cup of coffee made exactly how he liked. You had Sam’s heart the day you made beignets. Over the past two years, the team grew protective over you.
Present
“Which safe house did you put them in anyway?” Sam asked, now also starting to feel uneasy having not heard from you in so long.
“I actually put them in the Motel that’s half way between the base and city. Thought it would be more comfortable for them if they had separate rooms” Tony shrugged, having stopped pacing and now glancing at a gadget he had sitting on the table. “There are also trackers in their phones but they’re useless unless the phones are turned on. Both of their trackers are offline right now”.
“Is there really no way for us to contact them?” Steve was on edge now, thinking about how Bucky would be handling staying in a room alone after visiting a hydra base. Did they even make it back to their rooms yet?
“I mean there is one way for us to check on them but I didn’t want to do that unless they were definitely in danger” Tony said, now fiddling with a small gadget he had sitting on the table. “I had a few cameras installed in some of the safe houses and places we go to after missions just to be safe. I can hook this up and we’ll be able to see everything live in their rooms”.
“Tony!” Nat smacked his arm. “Were you ever going to tell us you had creeper cameras set up?”
“It’s not for creeping; I just didn’t want a repeat from when Cap, Peter and Bird brain over here compromised the safe house. We didn’t have eyes on anyone, got lucky Thunder was able to help them”.
“I told you I got bad vibes from the hostage” Peter groaned, recalling the failed mission where Loki had managed to infiltrate the group, posing as their captured Hydra agent.
“Number one, what does that even mean. Number two, it was supposed to be a hydra agent, obviously these so called vibes you are referring to would have been bad” Sam said, with exasperation in his voice. “If you spoke like a normal person and said hey I think this guy isn’t actually the one we were supposed to capture, maybe we wouldn’t have been compromised”.
“ANYWAY, the system can only be accessed from the compound,” Tony took the gadget he was fiddling with and plugged it into the computer.  “This controls all the cameras, FRIDAY can you pinpoint their coordinates and feed it to the computer. Sam, get redwing ready in case this doesn’t work”.
Sam left the room and the team anxiously gathered around the screen, as it started loading. Two room numbers appeared on the screen; one for you and the other Bucky’s.  At this point Steve was practically breathing down Tony’s neck hoping to see you both safe and sound. He felt a pang of guilt knowing he was the one to bring you to the team and if something ever happened to you- “Alright, check y/n’s room first”.
“It’s empty…”
“What do you mean empty?” The air in the room grew thick, laced with anxiety.
“You’re looking at the same thing I’m looking at Rogers, its empty. No one’s there, doesn’t even look like anyone’s stepped in the room. Where the fuck would she be?” Tony was close to putting on his suit and going to your location directly instead of waiting any longer. Suddenly one of the tracker screens flashed a green light beside Bucky’s name. “Wait, Bucky’s phone tracker is back online. Cap, call Barnes”.
The phone rang for ages until an out of breath Bucky picked up.
“H-hello?” “Bucky, where are you, where is y/n, did you guys make it to the rooms safely?”
“Steve? Y-yeah made it a few h-hours ago.  Uh should be in her r-room- ah. Probably tired from the m-mission. Didn’t talk to h-her”
“Why do you sound like that, if you’ve been injured we can send for extraction immediately, is y/n okay?”
“Nonono its fine uh- fuck its nothing we’ll be- hng sorry. I’ll be fine. Y/ns probably fine, think she went for a walk, I’ll check, bye”  
The call ended abruptly, Steve looked dumbfounded at the group. “He hung up, he sounded off”. Some of his worries eased; Bucky sounded sort of okay but still no word about you.  Also why did he sound like he was out of breath if they made it to the motel hours ago? Something wasn’t adding up and he wasn’t about to take any chances trying to call Bucky again. “Okay fuck this, I don’t care about anyone’s privacy anymore, Tony just turn on the cameras for Bucky’s room”
“Language cap” Tony shook his head, clicking on Bucky’s room number; the screen lit up sharing the live feed from his motel room.
On the screen the team saw Bucky pounding you right against the wall, your arms and legs tightly wrapped around his waist, clinging onto him.
“D-d-daddy don’t fucking stop, please d-don’t stop oh my god B-Bucky!”
Bucky’s metal hand moved to close around your neck, squeezing at the sides as he groaned watching your eyes roll to the back of your head.
“Yeah babydoll, you like that? You want me to keep filling you up, such a good little slut for me y/n fuuck” Bucky’s head fell onto the crook of your neck sucking dark bruises onto the sensitive skin.
“What the fuck are you guys wa- WOAH” Sam’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he returned back into the room to see Bucky’s large naked form on the screen, manhandle you against the wall, sweat glistening off his shoulders. Angry red lines littered his back from where you were gripping him, holding onto dear life.
Tony’s mouth dropped. Steve turned redder than he thought was humanly possible. Nat choked on the water she was drinking. Sam was thankfully quick enough to slap his hands over Peters eyes and ears before yelling at Tony to turn it off.
“OKAY, they’re CLEARLY more than okay, TONY TURN IT OFF!” “IM TRYING BUT ITS NOT WORKING!” “Seriously? Mr.  I have a custom fancy suit billionaire play boy genius can’t turn off a computer screen?!” “I never had to use this live stream system before! It’s not my fault just- okay this isn’t working. Everyone clear the room. Do not come near this place for the next hour. God I hope they stop within the next hour”
To say everyone was shocked was an understatement. Their y/n. Sweet, quiet, shy y/n wrapped around the super soldier, while he fucked her into oblivion.
Sam was the first to speak up. “This couldn’t have been their first time right? Like they looked- that is not how anyone’s first time together goes, when the hell have those two even spoken?! Steve, did you know anything about this? Also are we sure that was y/n? I need go to out and get some air; I’m going to need therapy after this”
“No, Bucky’s never mentioned anything before. Now that I think about it though, he did seem to be adjusting better over the last year but I didn’t think anything of it, just thought he was getting used to being free.”
“That was definitely y/n” Tony chimed in “How many other y/ns do you know, with y/c/h. I knew she was a freak on the field but I didn’t see this coming. Honestly, this raised my respect for Barnes, didn’t think he’d have it in him”.
Your salacious sounds and the sound of skin on skin slapping carried through the compound making it impossible for the team to ignore. Tony had a very obvious tent in his pants.
“OMG Tony” Steve hid his face in his hands as he saw Tony adjust himself.
“What do you want me to do capsicle, don’t act like your above getting a boner”
“I mean its’s…hot” Nat smirked, unable to ignore the sounds that continued to pour out from the surveillance room.
Bucky’s cock rammed into you at an indescribable pace, hitting that exact spot that made you cry out with each thrust. “So. Fucking. Tight.” His thrusts punctuated you with each word. “H-how are you still so tight after I’ve fucked you so many times, you fit so perfectly around me baby, could live in this pussy forever” he groaned into your neck.
“Need you daddy, need you so bad, m’ so close”, your whiny needy voice was music to Bucky’s ears as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You clung onto him, biting into his shoulders to try and keep your voice down but he made it impossible.
“Yeah baby, you gonna cum again? Can feel you squeezing me so tight holy fuck, make a mess on my cock” Bucky pulled his head away from the crook of your neck to look down at where you connected. He whimpered at the sight, his shaft completely covered in your slick, obscene sounds filling the room every time he fucked into you. “Be a good girl and cum baby, cum around my cock” He moved his hand to trail down between your bodies, pinching both your nipples before rubbing quick circles on your sensitive clit.
“I’m g-gonna- daddy I’m gonna cu-“Your words got cut off by your own climax unexpectedly hitting you hard and fast. “ohmygodohmygodohmygod”. Your vision blurred, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes at the force of your climax. You could no longer hear anything, the blood rushing through your ears over powering the sound of Bucky fucking you through your high, pressing down onto your clit to make it last as long as possible. He felt your walls squeeze and clench around him making his cock throb, momentarily stuttering in his pace as he felt his own climax starting to build up.
“Fuck you squirted, I can feel it d-dripping down to my balls, you’re so fucking perfect, taking my cock so well babydoll, think you can give me one more? Love the way your body feels baby, I need you to give me one more”
You had already cummed twice, oversensitive from the previous two orgasms Bucky gave you. As soon you reached the room, Bucky wasted no time ripping your clothes off and latching his mouth onto your clit.  His tongue swirled in circles, rutting his hard length onto the mattress to relieve some of the tension. You didn’t even bother checking into your assigned room. After the third climax, you were too far gone to hear anything Bucky was saying to you at this point, feeling limp in his arms, barely registering the bruising grip he had holding onto your ass and thighs. The sudden coolness of his metal hand slapping your check broke you out of your trance.
“Tell me you slut, or are you too cockdrunk over daddy’s cock to answer me”. His pace had slowed down to a slow grind pressing you hard against the wall, drinking in your fucked out expression. He loved seeing you like this; hair disheveled, cheeks stained with tears and mouth agape, unable to form a complete sentence. The only sounds leaving your mouth were moans each time he pushed into you deeper. Your neck and shoulders had a trail of small bruises; his favorite way to claim and mark you. You were the most beautiful sight he ever saw in his life. You could feel the base of him rubbing over your oversensitive clit. You moaned into his neck, digging your nails into his shoulders, adding to the litter of scars you already marked him with. “F-fuck daddy s-s-so sensitive. C-c-an’t”.
Still fucking into you, Bucky moved from the wall, dropping you onto the bed. His body caged you, face dark with pure lust and adoration. Throwing both legs over his shoulders, as he hit a new angle that made you see stars. You could already feel a new high build up causing you to sob into Bucky’s shoulder.
“Can’t?” He mocked your tone. “You sure you can’t give me one more baby?” Picking up his pace, Bucky was relentless, his animalistic primal urges completely taking over his brain. His thrusts unfaltering as he drove you further into the mattress. “Come on babydoll, just give me one more, need you to cum around my cock so bad, one more time, please baby please” Bucky’s dominance started faltering as he started to feel your walls clench around him.
Your hands gripped tightly onto his biceps, clawing up them, trying to ground yourself as you felt right on the edge. Bucky trailed kisses from your neck, focused on how your chest bounced with each thrust. “So fucking beautiful, could look at this all day” He moved down to pull your nipple into his mouth, giving it a harsh tug. It sent another wave of pleasure over you, causing your walls to flutter, slick further drenching his cock. “I can feel you milking me baby, come on, let go. I got you baby, let go, cum for me y/n, baby please, need this so bad, want to feel you” 
That was all it took, his words caused your walls to flutter uncontrollably, your clit throbbing as you felt waves and waves of euphoria wash over you. “BUCKY FUCKK”.  You looked beautiful beneath him, every moan leaving your lips making his cock leak with arousal. His pace grew sloppy as he fucked you through your high, now starting to chase his own. “Fuck yessss baby, say my fucking name, feel so good when you cum around my cock. Love when you make such a mess on me, keep squeezing me y/n feels so fucking good oh fuck m’ not gonna last long baby girl” Bucky sobbed into your shoulder, your walls pulling him in deeper, tightening making it almost difficult for him to move.
“Fill me up daddy, please, feels so good B-Bucky” You were completely fucked out, floating in and out of consciousness, wanting nothing more than to feel him fill you up. You needed him just as bad. You pulled him down, nipping at his lips, giving him sloppy kisses all over his face. You let your tongue slip in between his lips swallowing his moans as his arms gave in and he let his body collapse onto you. Your words had an indescribable effect on him.
“Don’t say that unless you want it baby, you want my cum? You need me- shit, need me to fill you up? You like when d-daddy- fuck gives you all his cum, keep you so full for d-days?”
“Please daddy, pleaseplease”
“Please what baby, tell daddy what you want, say it”
“Need your cum in me, fuck please Bucky!”
“Fuck baby, m so close, love cumming in this pussy, you love when I cum in you baby? You love feeling me fill you up till your dripping and making a mess? Don’t even know if this sweet tight pussy can handle it baby, God theres so much fucking cum, I can feel it” You nodded, sucking onto his neck, marking him “Greedy c-cumslut, you’re f-f-fucking mine. Always. Fucking. Mine” Bucky could feel his heavy balls aching, tightening as it slapped against your soaked core. A warm feeling of ecstasy tingled through his spine, travelling through his body, his cock throbbing, desperate to release. 
“Might just have to get you pregnant, fuck, you’d look so fucking beautiful carrying my babies” Oh you liked that. You fucking loved it. Bucky’s words caused you to cry out pulling him even closer. Even in your fucked out state, you definitely heard what he said.  Bucky could feel your arousal gush around him, your body now clinging onto him with a vice like grip. “You want that baby? You want my babies? Baby m’ gonna cum” “Fuck yes Bucky please, give me your babies daddy, need it so bad” You moved your legs to wrap around his waist, digging your heels into him, forcing him deeper into you.
He moaned at the feeling of your legs wrapping around him, his metal arm gripping the head board allowing him to speed up his pace. "I'm gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, m’ gonna fucking cu- FUUCCKKK” Bucky bit down hard onto your neck to keep from roaring out, the grip he had on the headboard caused it to crack and splinter above you while his other hand tore the sheets he was gripping onto.  You could feel his cock swell, hot spurts of white cum burst though his sensitive head, spilling out of you as he continued to gently rock his hips into you, whimpering . “So much cum baby, still fucking cumming, you feel so g-good y/n take it baby, know you always take it so well”.
Bucky stilled in his moments, nuzzling against your neck, placing gentle kisses on all the bruises that now covered your neck and shoulders. “You okay bubs?” He pushed a strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear while softly caressing your forehead. You nodded, hardly able to speak but the blissed out expression you had on your face told Bucky all he needed to know.
He got up and went to turn on the shower, making sure it was at the exact temperature you liked before picking you up and carrying you over. Both of you stood under the hot water, letting the steam relax your muscles. The scent of lavender filled the shower as Bucky poured some shower gel onto a washcloth, massaging your back and shoulders. You took your time placing little kisses over the scarred tissue where his metal arm met his body. After you both cleaned up, you wrapped yourself around Bucky, clinging onto him like a koala bear as he picked you up, setting you down onto the bed, covering both of you with the soft sheets.
Back at the compound
“I think they’re done. Its quiet now” Steve made his way up to the surveillance room again, hoping to see you and Bucky with clothes on.
“Alright, lets go see” Tony began to follow Steve, and saw Peter pale as ever, still looking like he saw a ghost as he shakily got up from the chair. “Not you Spiderling, you stay there. Cover your ears or watch tiktoks or something”
As they walked into the room, the scene on the screen was yet again not something they expected to see.
“Can we stay like this?” Waves of sleep washed over you, cuddled up on Bucky’s chest, his metal arm tracing mindless shapes onto the soft skin on your hips.
“I could stay like this forever with you baby girl, I love you” Bucky pressed soft kisses onto your forehead and nose. You nuzzled against his warm body, inhaling his soft scent as you fought sleep, trying to stay awake for as long as you could with the love of your life. Bucky noticed your squirming. “Go to sleep bubba, its been a long day” His fingers made their way to your hair, gently massaging down from your scalp to your neck.
“Don’t want to” you mumbled into his neck, hitching your leg over his torso him so you could pull yourself impossibly closer to him. “This is the first time we got to spend together alone without having to hide from anyone. I want to be awake for every single minute”
“You know, we could just tell everyone and you could move into my room. Been over a year of pretending, I don’t like not being able to kiss you whenever I want,” You looked up to see Bucky pouting down at you. “You’ve been so patient with me, taking everything at my pace. I want to whole world to know you’re mine, that I love you”.
Bucky wrapped his arms around you, rolling both of you over as he now laid on top of you. “I knew from the day you sat with me in the bar and asked if I preferred to be called James or Bucky, you were special” He nuzzled his nose against yours, placing a soft kiss on the corner of your lips. “Every time you sneak into my room to help me with my nightmares, I hope the sun doesn’t rise so I can hold you for longer. I can’t describe the happiness I feel when I’m with you; I want to be able to do this all the time”
“Are you sure Buck? You’d want me to move into your room with you? You know this also means no more sneaking around on secret dates” “More than sure doll, need everyone *kiss* to know *kiss *you belong to me *kiss*”
“Okay, they are adorable” Wanda gushed as she watched you and Bucky fall asleep, blissfully unaware that anyone had heard or seen the last few hours together. Nat blushed seeing her friend unbelievably happy, protected in the arms of someone that clearly loved her more than anyone else. The shy demeanor you had around everyone else was non-existent with Bucky.
“I have to admit, they make a good pair. Didn’t think Barnes or y/l/n had it in them. Guess you have to always watch out for the quiet ones,” Tony grinned, genuinely happy you both found happiness in each other. “Maybe we should soundproof the walls in tin mans room if they’re going to move in together. Actually I’ll do it now so he doesn’t suspect anything. You okay there cap?”
Steve’s eyes were glassy hearing how happy and in love Bucky was with you. His best friend deserved it after all he had been through and the fact that you were the one to give him happiness made warmth spread through his chest. He was so happy he brought you to the team. Bucky’s stoic expression disappeared entirely. They had never seen him so gentle as he cuddled into you while you slept. For the first time, the team saw him look at peace.
***
Bucky thought he would have to convince Steve to delay sending the jet to pick them, surprised when Steve easily agreed. “No problem Buck, actually the jet might arrive later than anticipated, that’s okay with you and y/n right?”
“Yeah that’s fine, thanks punk”  *call disconnected* Steve smirked, purposely sending the jet a day later than necessary. He would have no problem with sending the jet a week later if it meant you both got to spend some time together. “Steve sounded….happy” Bucky looked confused as he placed his phone back on the table, walking back over to the bed where you were wrapped under the sheets. His dog tags hung around your neck, your hair spread on the pillow like a halo. You skin glowed as the sun crept through the curtains, you looked like an angel. His angel. “That’s good right? Come here and cuddle me” You made grabby hands towards Bucky as he flopped onto the bed trapping you under him. “Oof- get off me you big baby” You giggled and Bucky nuzzled his face into your bare chest, wrapping his arms around you. “No. m’ comfy just like this” Bucky grinned up at you peppering kisses along your jaw. “It’s good, just odd. He’s usually trying to get me back as soon as possible, especially when Hydra is involved”.
***
As you both exited the jet, making your way back to the compound you wondered how the team would react to you and Bucky getting together. There wasn’t anyone that would oppose the relationship but you were not sure how to explain that you had already been together for a year. You spoke to Bucky the very same day Tony happily welcomed you to join the team.
Flash back 2 years ago
Tony looked for any reason to throw a party and after seeing you on the field, he figured it was a good enough reason to celebrate. Parties made you anxious so you quietly made your way to the bar where another figure sat. He was handsome; different from what you had seen plastered all over the world a few years ago. His long hair was cut short, the previous silver arm from Hydra replaced with dark gunmetal grey and gold vibrainium. He was dressed in a plain black t-shirt that stretched across his chest and arms along with his dark jeans that hugged his legs nicely. What should have been a quick glance was turning into staring as you struggled to tear your eyes off him.
Bucky sat, nursing a glass of whisky. He looked over to you, surprised that you had chosen to sit at the bar as well instead of getting your drink and leaving. You fumbled with your fingers, realizing that he had seen you. You didn’t want to make it obvious you were just silently staring at him, quickly thinking of something to say.
“Hi” You smiled, feeling the heat travel through your cheeks and down your neck. “I’m y/n”.
“Ah, so the welcome party is for you.  I’m James; some of my friends call me Bucky though”.
“Well what do you prefer to be called?”
Your consideration for what he would prefer. It was so small. So simple. People always assumed he went by Bucky. But the fact that you bothered to ask which name he preferred brought up a new feeling he didn’t know existed. He felt his cheeks flush.
“You can call me Bucky, doll”.  
 Bucky found himself frequently bumping into you in the same places he’d go to have some quiet time to himself. Usually he wasn’t a fan when there was someone else present but he didn’t mind when it was you. You didn’t try to pry him with questions or invade his space. You also enjoyed sharing quiet time with Bucky. There was a mutual understanding between you both, filled with shy smiles and blushes.
Things took a turn one night when you woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of a crash. You heard thrashing coming from Bucky’s room and found your feet working faster than your mind. You knew he had nightmares but you were not sure he’d want anyone to see him when he was so vulnerable. The thought of him having to go through all those nights alone made your heart ache. Your heart raced as you stood in front of Bucky’s door; the thrashing stopped but you could now hear soft sobs coming from inside. You gently knocked on his door. “Bucky?” No answer. Again, your body was acting faster than your mind as you quietly opened the door and slipped into his room.
Bucky was on the floor, the sheets thrown off the bed. A picture of him in his army uniform from 1940 thrown across the room, glass shattered on the floor. He had his head buried between his knees, his fingers tugging at his hair as he tried to ground himself from another nightmare. You carefully made your way towards him, dropping to your knees in front of him. There was no second thinking as you pulled his hands away, wrapping your arms around him so you could cradle him to your chest. You placed a soft kiss on his hairline, gently rubbing his back in small circles and rocking him to calm him down.
“Shhh, its okay” You moved your hand to cup his cheek, making him look at you. “You’re safe Bucky”. Your thumbs wiped away the tears that kept spilling.
“So many of them” Bucky’s voice cracked as he spoke between sobs. “I killed so many of them and none of them deserved it. I’m a fucking monster”. He buried his face into your neck letting his tears fall onto your t-shirt as he continued to cry.
“That was never you Bucky” You felt your own eyes stinging with tears threatening to spill out. You held him tighter, your voice growing shaky as you continued to speak “No one gave you a choice then. Look at all the lives you saved when you were free to make choices again Buck”. You stood up, gently pulling Bucky to get up and lay on the bed instead. Bucky was exhausted; he feared the images that plagued his mind as soon as he let sleep take over. He looked up at you; his eyes filled with torment, the dark circles underneath showing it had been ages since he slept in peace.
“You don’t have to talk about anything. I can stay with you till you fall asleep. Come here, lay down”.
Bucky reluctantly got up, too tired to argue and tell you it wasn’t necessary because he didn’t want to bother you. He secretly hoped you would stay; you were the one person he knew he could be silently comfortable around. You sat up on his bed against the head board. As he put his head on the pillow, he felt your hands gently touch his hair. He started to feel his eyelids grow heavy. “Are you okay with me touching you? You can tell me if it makes you uncomfortable”. Bucky shook his head, leaning into your touch. He shifted over, moving so his head was now resting on your lap. You felt your heart flutter, gently running your fingers through his soft hair, the simple action lulling him to sleep.
Bucky’s sores filled the room as you continued to gently massage his head. Happy he had fallen asleep, you wondered if you should leave. He didn’t seem to mind you helping sleep again but you were not sure he’d be comfortable with you staying the whole night. You started to shift until you felt a tug at your wrist and saw Bucky looking up at you like a lost puppy. “Stay…please?” You could felt your heart melt, his soft eyes looking up at you hopefully. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable Bucky, are you sure?”
“I want you to stay”.
 Present
You both entered the shared living room; Bucky gently squeezed your hand, knowing you were feeling nervous. You huffed a sigh of relief seeing it was empty, continuing down to the elevators making your way up to the floor you shared with Steve and Bucky. As soon as the elevator doors closed, Bucky pulled you close smashing his lips against yours, pressing you against the wall. Bucky’s mind had been racing ever since he asked you to move into his living space. He couldn’t wait to have you all to himself, to hold you when he slept and wake up to you. His hand gripped your waist as the other gripped the back of your neck, lightly pulling your hair. You smirked, enjoying the gentle burn with each tug, letting his tongue slip through, snaking your hands under his shirt clawing your nails down his back.
“God babydoll you have no idea what you do to me” Bucky groaned, breaking away from your lips momentarily for air. “Can’t wait to have you in my bed every single night, your gonna be bent over every surface while I rail you from behind. I’ll get to fuck you to sleep, keep you full with my cum all night and wake you up with my face between your legs”. You whimpered arousal soaking through your panties as Bucky kept whispering filth, sucking little bruises down your neck. He pushed your legs apart, his thigh pressing onto your aching core.
The ding of the elevator reaching your floor broke you both out of your lust filled trace. Bucky tapped the side of your thigh “Jump”. You wrapped your legs around him; Bucky wasted no time carrying you over to his room, ready to have his way with y-
“What are you guys doing in here?”
Bucky saw Tony, Steve and Sam squirreling around his room with measuring tape. The three whipped their heads around, eyes wide. Tony wasn’t bluffing when he suggested sound proofing the walls; he got Steve and Sam to help him measure the room before having anything installed. They caught a glance of Bucky carrying you before he had set you down beside him, pretending nothing happened.
“I own the compound Barnes, technically all the rooms are my rooms”
“Fine, but why are these two with you? And what were you measuring?”
“I was…” Tony panicked, deciding the change the subject. “Why were you carrying y/n?” Tony smirked wiggling his eyebrows, watching as you hid your face into Bucky’s arm. Bucky felt the blush warm his cheeks. He was excited for everyone to know but he didn’t wasn’t sure how to explain anything on the spot and the growing tightness in his pants wasn’t helping. 
“Uh I wasn’t… she was tired from the mission and you didn’t answer my question”
“I FAINTED” Steve panicked, hoping his outburst out distract Bucky from the fact that they were in his room. He didn’t exactly think anything through. “You?  fainted? In my room?” Bucky looked at Steve as if he suddenly grew a second head.
“Yeah Frozone, you fainted?” Tony glared at Steve, wondering how the hell this man managed to carry the shield for this long if this is how he responded to pressure. “Will you shut up” Sam grumbled to Steve under his breath.
“Yeah, sorry pal. Came looking for something, thought I might have left it in your room. Tony and Sam came to help. Turns out it wasn’t there” Steve’s face was the same shade of red as the day he saw you in Bucky’s motel room. He could think on his toes on missions but this was different, he didn’t know how to lie to his best friend.
“Then when did you faint-”
Tony and Sam mentally face palmed. Tony couldn’t decide which risk was worse: allowing Steve to continue with his train wreck of a lie or to just tell Bucky the truth. “Actually Cap we can take it from here, show Barnes the new surveillance equipment since he was away when we tested it”
Steve nodded; relieved he could change the subject as he walked a confused Bucky down the hall over to the room.   
“Y’know, when you guys went offline for 12 hours, we were all worried about you both. The whole team sat for hours waiting to hear from you. Can’t tell you how relieved I was when I finally saw you were okay”
“You always worry,” Bucky smiled to himself, then frowning when he remembered something “how did you know y/n wasn’t in her room? And what do you mean saw, you just called me on the phone punk” “Uh……..yes. I meant heard. When I heard from you” Steve opened the door to the room the team was gathered in the day before, blood draining from his face when he saw the live feed hadn’t stopped even after you were both safe at the compound. Tony still hadn’t figured how to switch it off but managed to create an AI that controlled the entire building. Unbelievable. Tony and Sam made their way over to ensure Steve didn’t attempt to pull anything else out of America’s Ass. Bucky walked over to the screen frowning as he noticed the room it was showing looked familiar. “Wait. Isn’t this my motel room?”
“Huh. Would you look at that? So it is. Tony how did that happen?”  Steve looked at Tony and Sam, eyeing the door, planning his escape.
“How long has this been streaming for?” 
“uh………” Steve dashed out the room. Tony and Sam could figure this out on their own.
On the bottom of the screen read: live for 46h 15m 9s. You had only been at the Motel for about a day and a half….
“When did this start recording?” Sam looked at Bucky, then Tony then back to Bucky before running out the door to follow Steve.
“See, we didn’t hear from you for over 12 hours, so I did what any great leader would do and checked on you to make sure you were okay” “Huh” “Just a few cameras to have eyes on you in case something happened. You should be thanking me Barnes” Tony already started tip toeing backwards slowing making his way to the door before Bucky connected the dots.
“When did this start recording” “I can say with confidence, you have a nice ass Barnes!” Tony dashed out the room,
 “STARK!!”
Thank you @buckies-dolle wouldn't have written anything without you <3
4K notes · View notes
ghostlychief · 9 months
Text
Don’t Blame Me
Pairing: MW2 Ghost x f!reader
Summary: They say love makes you crazy, so can they really blame you?
Warnings: mentions of blood, knife usage (stabbing, stabbing people’s eyes, eyes being ripped out of socket); mentions of combat fighting; hints of torture and injuries from torture; typical MW2 lore
NSFW, MINORS DNI: blowjob, fingering, eating pussy; missionary; creampie; aftercare
WC: 7k+ (IK IT’S LONG)
A/N: hello hello! here is the long awaited ghost fic that’s been in development for quite awhile. Thank you so much for participating in my pole, and i hope you enjoy!!! I really let myself indulge in more of the gore this time around, so please read with caution if that kind of content bothers you.
ENJOY🫶🏻🖤
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--
You didn’t know blood could be this thick.
But, as you cut through the swarm of your opponents, you really don’t care how much of it gets on your clothes, seeps into your crevasses, and splashes on your face. No, you really don’t give a shit. Your only objective is to get to Ghost, and quickly.
All you see is red, literally.
Before you even fully process what you’re doing, the knife in your hand has already sunk into a neck, blood spurting everywhere, drenching you further.  You carry on, the one person you’re trying to reach at the forefront of your mind.
Should you have felt some remorse for the lives you ended? Probably, but it was like you brain was turned off. Actually, no, that’s incorrect. It was like your brain was wired differently, like it was wired to focus on one thing and one thing only: retrieve Ghost.
You can’t recall when you two got separated, or when he got captured in your last mission. All you remember is the pain you felt when you noticed he’d been taken.
You could blame yourself for his capture, but you decided to turn your fury towards someone else rather than yourself. You realized over the years that self-loathing wasn’t very efficient. It tends to waste time.
It was easy after all; it’s not hard to hold contempt towards the people that stole your lover away from you.
This was their doing. I’m only showing them the consequences of their actions.
It’s what you had to tell yourself. Otherwise, you didn’t see how you were going to come out of this alive. You had to redirect your rage, your frenzy. You had to channel it through your veins, making sure it heated you, and coursed through in a way that burned.
It had to be this way. It was the only way to help you be relentless against your opponents.
You were pretty proud of your knife skills; it was your favorite weapon after all. You always made sure to carry at least two with you at all times.
Today, you strapped on four and you were lucky, since you lost your first two about ten minutes ago. They were no doubt lodged into someone lying on the ground, pierced through their eye. That was your sweet spot, never failing you to effectively take down your opposition.
By this point, it felt like you had sliced your way through a hundred men and yet you still haven’t reached the door of the facility Ghost was being held in. Hope was on the horizon though because you could faintly make out the top of the door frame, which egged you on further. Your muscles worked tirelessly as your arms continued to swing at the men attacking you.
Occasionally, you would move your arms in a quick jabbing motion, repeatedly stabbing the opponent in the stomach and then you would land one last finally blow to their eye, your signature move some would say.
One of the downsides of this move was that sometimes, it took a lot of strength to pull your knife back out of the eye (hence your missing knives), which resulted in pulling their eyeball clear and out of its socket.
Not the best outcome of this tactic, but it is what it is.
Unfortunately, for your last victim, this very thing happened. You were thankful when his screams died down quickly.
You had a moment to catch your breath, hanging your head, quivering hands resting on your upper thighs. You looked up just in time to see someone charging at you, yelling, and with their own knives in their hands.
You noticed that they were the only one alive left outside.
One more. I can take care of him.
You swiftly moved to the side, but could hear the whisp of his blade cutting through the air. That was no good- he got too close.
Time to fix that.
Since you were so deft in your knife wielding ability, you also had a knack of being light on your feet and quick. Something that certainly benefited you.
While the man was no doubt taller and heavier than you, you were faster and anticipated his movements with ease. Sooner than later he too was on the ground, finished, with a sliver blade in his left eye, your red hand-grip the only thing you could see sticking out of his head.
You decided to leave it there, as a parting gift of course.
That’s where you got your nickname, Red Eye, seeing that your weapon of choice was wrapped in a blood-red grip that blended in with the blood that seeped out of your victims’ eye sockets. You thought the nickname was silly at first, but you just grew to accept it over the years. What can you say, you like the fancifulness of it every once in a while.
While you always had reputation, this name made your reputation grow into something almost bigger. While your peers and opponents knew you as the women with the red soaked blades, this name gave you a more, how should you put it?
Eerie reputation.
After stepping over your last remaining victim, you finally reach the double doors, leading into the building Ghost is being held captured in.
Before you entered though, you heard a voice through your comms. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Red Eye.”
Fuck me.
You hear Soap over the comms, “Wait for backup. We’re detecting three bodies via heat signatures”
You let out a groan, but made sure that your comms didn’t pick up on that.
“We don’t have time for that. I need to engage now.”
“You will do no such thing.” You hear Price’s voice cut through, stopping you from opening the doors.
“It’s a miracle you made it this far without any back up. Don’t test my patience.”
Ok, so you may have left without anyone knowing and got a two-hour head start before the rest of your team caught up to your location.
It’s just- they were taking, what it seemed like, forever to develop a plan to get your boyfriend out of captivity. You get it, logistics need to be air tight. But this was Ghost, Simon. Your Simon out there.
You knew he could handle what was given to him, but that didn’t ease any worry or hurt left in your heart, and it made you see red with anger.
That’s how your more or less ended up here, alone, slicing through about 30 men all by yourself. Not the smartest move you admit, but you had to get to Simon. You knew his time was running down, like a sand timer, each minute gone left him more perilous than before.
You were definitely going to get your ass kicked tomorrow at debrief.
You were just about to go in, thinking to hell with listening to orders, when you hear at least two sets of feet jogging across the gravel.
“Jesus, Red Eye. Leave any for the rest of us?”
You just roll your eyes at Soap, ignoring his comment. “C’mon guys, we need to hurry. Let’s take the last of the fuckers out and get Ghost back home.”
“Roger that.”
You go in first taking point, Soap and Kӧnig flanking you.
This time around, you have your handgun out, but your knife is safely held with your left hand, resting on the underside of the muzzle.
The hallway is dark, but it’s to your advantage. You think you see a light source coming from the hallway on the left that you’re coming up to, so you raise your left hand and point in that direction, signaling to Soap and Kӧnig.
This is where you come across the first person.
We must be close.
You let Kӧnig take him out. He comes up swiftly behind him and locks an arm around the man’s throat. First knocking him out, but then ultimately, finishing the job.
You three continue down the long corridor. They seem to go on forever. Sweat drips down your temple, and you hastily swipe it away, not wanting anything to obstruct your vision.
As you come closer to the end of the hallway, you start to hear something.
You raise your hand to signal Soap and Kӧnig to stop, and turn around so they can see you raise your pointer finger up to your lips.
You listen for the sound again, and you realize what it is this time.
Your blood runs cold, and goosebumps form on your arms, freezing you in place as you listen to the deafening sound that doesn’t seem to stop.
Ghost is screaming.
You don’t think you’ve ever heard him be this loud, let alone sound so full of pain. You have to pull it together though, you’re almost to him.
You continue on, making a right this time, and Ghost’s screams become louder. It’s good and bad of course. Good because he’s near you and you’re close, bad because he hasn’t stopped screaming.
You wonder how long this has been going on for.
You feel a heavy weight float down your chest, that takes its resting place in your heart. You find it hard to breath, and it takes every fiber in your being not to go into full panic mode.
You get closer and closer to the room Ghost is in, but you don’t hear him anymore. There is no one outside guarding, so the remaining two people must be inside with him.
Your stomach churns over.
You hadn’t realized it, but you fell behind both Soap and Kӧnig, but without a beat, they took your spot at point, leading you to the door.
They bust in first and immediately go after the two men that were standing by Ghost, who is strapped to a chair. It’s your job to get Ghost free of his confines.
But when you look at him, you freeze all over again.
He’s slumped in the chair, hands and feet bound by thick ropes that are no doubt leaving crude burns in his skin.
His pants have rips and holes in them and from further examination, you realize it’s from cigarette burns and cuts from blades.
You can’t see any damage on his arms but you’re worried what his shirt is hiding on his torso. You realize he’s slumped because he’s knocked out cold, probably from a concussion. But you know he’s alive because you see the slight rise and fall of his chest. It’s ever so faint, but it’s there.
You look around the room and notice a medium size table with different kinds of weapons and tools splayed out along the length of the table. You notice some have dried blood on them, while other tools are still dripping red. Rags litter the table as well. They’re dirty and also have traces of lingering blood.
Once again, you feel the embers burning through you, and you feel like you’re about to explode into a fury of rage.
You turn towards the two men that Soap and Kӧnig took down.
The two bodies lie on the floor and before you realize what you’re doing, you crouching over the first man, and with your blade, you start stabbing both of his eyes, switching on and off between the left and right. While you do this, a blood curdling scream leaves your lips.
It’s both terrifying and heartbreaking; a fine line dances between the two.
You snarl at the now eyeless man before you crawl your way over to his counterpart and release the same anger and revenge onto him. Your screech never faltering.
You don’t realize what you’re doing until you feel strong arms come up behind you and lift you off the dead man.
You start fighting their hold and it’s then when you start crying, your scream turning into a sob. The exhaustion finally getting to you.
“We got him. He’s going to be ok; it’s going to be ok.”
That’s the last thing you hear before everything goes black.
--
When you wake, you notice you’re lying on something soft. When you come to, you realize you’re on a bed, under a thin layer of covers and your head rests on a firm pillow.
You squint because the lights are overly bright but when they adjust, you notice the infamous florescent glow, meaning, you’re in the medical ward of the base.
You sit up, and you notice no aches or pains outside of your regular soreness you felt after fighting for an extended period of time. Your head also hurts, but you don’t really care.
You want to know where Simon is.
You notice a nurse a few feet away and you wave her over.
“Excuse me, but why am I in here?”
She gives you a tight-lipped smile. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that she’s nervous. She fidgets with her hands before answering you.
“Well miss, you fainted on your last mission. They brought you here to be examined.”
She moves over to the end of your bed and takes out the clipboard that resided in the pocket.
“Here, let’s see.” She looks over your paper before looking back at you, still with a trace of uneasiness.
“Seems like everything is OK. Your vitals are normal, and you have no major injuries, just some light bruising on your arms and hands. You are welcome to leave when you want.”
You glance down and notice the light purple that spans across your knuckles.
Before she can scurry away, you ask, “Wait, where are they keeping Ghost?” You shake your head, “I mean, Simon Riley.”
A look of pity crosses her face before she answers, “He’s in Ward C miss; the intensive care unit.”
She leaves before you can ask her anything else.
What the fuck was her problem?
You jump out of your bed, but immediately regret that decision when your head starts to throb right above your left eye.
Now is not the time for a migraine.
You make sure you have all of your belongings before you rush over to Ward C. Right before you are about to enter through the doorway, Price comes through and stops you with a hand placed on your shoulder.
He looks down at you – you’re really getting tired of being the shortest on the team- and squeezes your shoulder gently.
“Before you go in there, guns-a-blazing, he’s doing ok, alright?”
You just stare up at him and nod. Although it was good to hear Simon was doing ok, whatever the hell that meant, you still had so much anger left in you. So much you were hoping that just the sight of Simon healing would help quell you.
You walk past Price, a determined spring in your step, ready to be reunited with Simon. It’s been so long since you’ve last seen him.
Three weeks.
Three weeks he was gone, and you thought he was never coming back.
The intensive care unit is unusually empty so it’s not hard to find which bed Simon is occupying.
You quietly walk up to the side of the bed, and you are finally by his side.  
“You don’t have to tiptoe around me bug, I’m awake.”
Simon’s voice startles you and your head turns towards his. You notice his left arm is in a sling but a lazy smile graces his lips.
If you weren’t in a medical facility on base, out in the open to the prying eyes of the public, you would have immediately burst out crying just at the sound of his voice.
Instead, you let out a breathy, “I thought I lost you.”
Unlike Simon, your face has no hint of happiness. Your lips are slightly turned down, quivering and your eyes start to well up with tears, but you will them not to drop.
Your hands are balled up in fists but you bring yourself back down. You are here for him after all; it’s not the other way around.
You slowly unclench your fists and then gingerly sit down on the side of Simon’s bed, right at his hip.
That’s when you bring your hand up to trace down the side of his face, feeling the familiar stubble that never fails to tickle you when he kisses you.
Your hand comes back up to rub his cheek and you say again, “I thought I lost you, Simon.”
He brings his hand up to cup yours that still rests on his face. “I know, I know. But I’m here, and I’m ok.”
“Are you though?” You can’t fight it anymore, the tears stream down your face, their streaks burning your skin.
His hand that was resting on yours comes up to rub your head. “Promise.”
After that, you and Simon laid in his hospital bed for the remainder of the day. He fell in and out of sleep, but you were just thankful he was alive and breathing next to you.
--
It’s been about three weeks since Simon’s been back. He’s out of his sling and most of his bruises and wounds have healed. Expect for the deeper lacerations on his thighs. He also has some scarring from the cigarette butts. But over all, you would say he’s doing pretty alright, all things considered.
You’re both currently on base, since you needed to attend multiple meetings today, and you’re eating lunch in the cafeteria.
“So, I heard you went kind of, feral, when you came to rescue me.” Simon has an innocent look on his face, but you see him trying to hid his shit eating grin.
You narrow your eyes at him, “And who did you hear that from?”
He just shrugs nonchalantly, “No one in particular.”
You scoff. Fucking Soap.
You knew he must have told someone, if not Simon himself. He was quite the gossiper.
What a fucker.
“Well, did you want me to ask them to be friends?”
Simon lets out a low laugh. “That would have been funny.” You look up at him and see his eyes are lit with amusement.
You let out a sigh, but a ghost of a smile dances across your lips. You know he’s feeling better since he’s joking around.
--
Another three weeks has passed and you find yourself in the typical meeting room. The one you all use before a mission. That means this will be your last debrief before you jet off to where ever the location is in a few days.
The meeting goes well up until the part where Price says “And Ghost, you will wait here at the rendezvous point.”
You interrupt him, “Wait what?”
The room goes silent as you stare down Price.
“There’s no way Simon is going on this mission. Nope. Not happening.”
“Well, y/n, you don’t really have a say in this. Do you?”
The trace of condescendence has you short circuiting but you keep your cool. You glare at Price, “If Simon’s going on this mission, then count me out.” You don’t notice the slip of his name. Usually at work you call Simon Ghost or LT, but never Simon.
You storm out of the room and head back to your desk to gather your things to leave.
You hear someone lightly jogging behind you, and you have a hunch about who it is that followed you out.
You feel a hand softly grab your elbow and you hear Simon plead, “Wait.”
You sigh and turn around. Looking up at him you confess, “Look, I need to cool off for a bit. We can talk at home, ok?”
You see Simon contemplate whether to let you go or not, but he just gives you a curt nod. He gives your arm a gentle squeeze where his hand still rests, “Ok, see you at home.” --
You basically scowl your whole way home. Listen, you know you have some slight anger issues, but you’re working on it.
You get home after the long day and quickly make way to the shower, needing to feel the hot water run down your head and back. That will calm me, you think.
Once you step out of the shower, you already feel better. You’re clean, and you smell like your favorite soap. You change and do your normal routine after a shower then head to the kitchen to make yourself a warm cup of tea.
Evening tea is one of your favorite treats and it always seems to quell your nerves. Because that’s what you are right now, nervous.
You don’t want to fight with Simon, no, not at all. But you can’t help but feel frustrated at Price, and subsequently him, for deciding that he’s ready to go back in the field. Because from your perspective he’s not. Hell, it’s barley been a month and a half, and you think he needs more time to cope with what happened to him.
Sure, he’s seeing the base’s therapist, and he’s doing everything he can to keep his physical body healthy, yet you can’t help but the ball of worry that has formed in the pit of your stomach, fester. Something keeps nagging at you, and you don’t know what it is.
You just don’t understand how Simon can bounce back so quickly.
Luckily you didn’t have to wait too long for Simon to get home. And when he does, you find yourself perking up on the couch when you hear him come through the door.
He lets out a soft “Hey,” in which you respond just as softly back.
“I’m going to go shower and wash up, but then we can talk, yeah?”
You give him a nod, but also confirm, “Sure, that sounds good.”
His shower felt like eternity, but you know you only feel this way because you’re on edge. Again, you don’t want to fight with him. You just, you love him so much, you can’t stand to lose him again. No, it can’t happen again.
You hear soft footsteps on the tile as Simon makes his way through the kitchen to the living room where you’re still seated on the couch.
You look up at him before he sits down and grant him a quiet smile, and reach out your hand to his. His large hand grasps yours in his, and his thumb traces your knuckles. He then sits down next to you, and now his fingers are tracing over yours, relaxing you just a smidge.
You can feel his warmth radiating off of you instantly, and it takes ever thing in you to not glue yourself to his side.
You both slightly turn to each other, and funnily enough you each say “So,” at the same time.
You giggle and he lets out a low chuckle that makes your insides swarm. You miss him.
“You go first, bug.” The hand that has been tracing yours pulls you closer to him, and he embraces you in a warm hug as you both sit on the couch.
Before you start, you simply just bask in Simon’s embrace, not wanting to let go just yet. You begrudgingly pull away, but still keep your fingers connected in their little dance.
“I’m sorry for storming out today at our meeting. That was unprofessional, and uncalled for, but I just don’t see why you have to go on our next mission.”
“Aren’t you still hurting from what happened to you on the last one? I guess I just don’t understand why you want to go back in the field so soon.”
There’s a pause before you add, “How do you know you’re ready to go back?”
One thing you appreciate about Simon is that he never interrupts you, and he always lets you finish your complete thought before adding his.
When he can tell you’re done, he sighs and says, “Because, y/n, that’s what we’re trained for.”
“I wouldn’t have this job if I couldn’t put the pieces back together after every mission.”
You guess that makes sense, but you’re still concerned about him.
“Listen, I get that, I really do. I guess what I want to make sure of is that you’re actually doing ok and that you’re working through whatever happened to you.”
He’s told you the gist of what happened, and he confides in you whenever he feels like he needs the extra support, but you know that there are some things he’s still hiding. Which, you’re not going to push him to tell you, but you hope at some point he does.
He gives you a slight smile, “That’s why I love you. You’re always looking out for me, and I appreciate it so much, but I’m really doing fine, ok?”
He shifts so he’s leaning in closer to you, and now it’s his turn to cup your jaw with his hand. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and you nod at his answer. “I love you too.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
You grant him a smile in return and then he pulls you in for a kiss.
--
The kiss deepens and before you know it, you’re straddling his lap, one leg on either side of his thick torso. You’re a mess as you straddle him, and you wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to be closer to him, if even possible.
He wraps his arms around you and subconsciously pulls you closer to him. His large hands span across your back as he holds you close to him. Your center brushes against his you let out a moan when you feel this contact. You run your hands down his neck and shoulders, feeling the taught muscles underneath his black t-shirt. As you rock your hips against his, you hear him let out a moan, which only eggs you on further.
“Fuck, y/n. Keep doing that again.” His hands travel down to hold you hips, almost as if he’s trying to help you move against him.
Your hands move in tandem and they come to rest at the base of his t-shirt, your fingers playing with the hem. You’re itching to take it off of him, and he seems to understand what you want, because he pauses kissing you to help you take off his shirt.
Now shirtless, you bring your hands up to his shoulders and then trail them slowly down his torso, nails ever so slightly scraping against his skin. You can feel each ridge and bump from his abs before your reach the hem of his sweatpants. Your fingers graze over his happy trail before you start toying with his sweats.
You run one finger along the hem of his grey sweats, then ever so slightly, your finger enters his pants, you run your finger under his sweatpants. You’re teasing him, and you can tell he’s getting antsy by the way he shifts as your finger runs along the band of his briefs.
As you continue to tease him, you trail or lips over his chest. Your lips wrap around one of his nipples, the unpierced one, and you softly bite him before you run your tongue over his nipple, suckling.
He moans out a gentle “Fuck,” and one of his hands comes up to grasp your hair.
You move over to his other nipple, the pierced one to be exact, and you once again softly bite him then suck. You make sure to spend your time here because you know this is one of Simon’s favorite thing during foreplay. Once he’s taken care of there, you continue to trail your lips down his abdomen, and now you’re finally at his center.
You get off his lap and sit on the floor in-between his spread legs. You place your hands right above his knees, and you look up at him with your swollen lips.
“You’re going to be good for me tonight, right?” You rub your thumbs in soft circles on his legs, waiting for his answer.
You see him gulp as he looks down at you, and then his lips quirk, in a smirk.
“What do you say?” Your hands stop their ministrations and you tilt your head, understanding what he wanted.
“Please.”
His smirk deepens, “Good girl.”
At his greenlight, you come up on your knees so that you can reach him better. Your trail the hem on his sweatpants one last time before you start pulling them down off his hips, making sure that his briefs come off too. He lifts his butt to help you, and now you’ve successfully taken his pants and underwear off.
You greedily take in the size of him. His dick is hard and slightly curved as it lays against his stomach. You wrap your hand around him, he’s so thick that your hand doesn’t close around it the whole way. You pump him slowly, as you look at him. His eyes are blown out and he leans his head back against the couch. You smile at him before you lower yourself. You link one strip up his dick, making him squirm underneath you. You then you bring up your hand to start pumping him. As your hand moves up and down, your lips come up to kiss the to crown of his dick.
You look up at him again, locking eyes and then wrap your lips around him. Once your lips make contact, he lets out a low moan. You continue to sink down on him. You move your head up and down, trying to adjust to his size. The part of his dick that you can’t fit into your mouth, you cover with your hand, pumping him up and down.
Your hair falls around you, and at this, Simon carefully takes your hair into one hand, putting it into a makeshift ponytail.
“Fuck, baby that feels so good.”
You continue to suck on him, hollowing out your cheeks. You know he’s close when you see his abs start to clench and his legs start to stiffen.
The moans he lets out has your getting wetter and wetter by the minute, and you squirm, trying to ease some of the pent-up tension you’re feeling.
Your unoccupied hand comes down to play with his balls, gently squeezing them and that is what does him in. He lets out a louder groan and you feel his warm come shoot down your throat.
You keep your mouth on him, cleaning him up before you slowly take yourself off him. You wipe your lips with the back of your hand and you sit back on your heels, smiling at him.
He runs a hand through his hair, and lets out a low chuckle.
“Damn, you really did a number on me there.” You laugh yourself and you come up to the couch, sitting beside him so you can turn his head to give him a lingering kiss.
You give him a few pecks, “What can I say, I’m good at what I do.” Your eyes are bright as you look at him, and his hold the same amount of affection and adoration.
His low voice cuts through you, “Now it’s my turn to make you feel good, alright?”
You give him a brief nod, “Please.”
He pulls you back into him, and then starts to push you back so you’re lying on the couch under him. He’s kissing you frantically now, his tongue entering your mouth.
“Take your pants off for me, would you?” His hands make their way to take your shirt off, and while he does that, you slip out of your shorts, underwear gone with them.
“Thank you, baby.”
He keeps kissing you as his hand comes down to your center. He first cups you, and then brings his pointer finger to rub against your clit. As his pointer is stimulating your clit, his middle and ring finger run along your slit, gathering up all the wetness that formed over the course of the last half hour.
You see him bring his coated fingers up to you. “Taste for me,” he breathes. And without any hesitation, you suck on his fingers, tasting yourself, making sure to look at Simon while you lick his fingers. He watches you with fire in his eyes.
“Good girl.”
You’ll never get tired of hearing him call you that.
He brings his hand back down to your pussy and then enters two fingers in you, stretching you out deliciously. You whine as his fingers enter you; they feel so good inside you.
Luckily for you, your boyfriend has quite large hands, which equated to long, thick fingers, and he always knew what to do with them.
He starts picking up the pace, and the squelching sound his fingers make is deafening, and the only thing you can focus on as they move in and out of you.
You didn’t even have to ask before he’s adding in a third. You feel yourself clench around him, and you’re already losing your mind and he hasn’t even properly fucked you yet.
He’s hitting you right in your sweet spot, and your hands come up to hold him by the shoulders. He moves down ever just a hair, and you’re not sure why until he lowers his head. He spits, and then connects his lips with your clit, moving his tongue around your sensitive bud.
The addition to his lips on your clit has you seeing stars and you start to feel that familiar build up. You tumble over the edge, a bright warmness spreading through you.
Simon removes his lips and fingers from you and you’re both panting heavily. He’s bracing himself with one arm as he looks down at you.
Your hair is messily strewn across the couch behind you, and your eyes are bright. Your chest moves up and down as you try and catch your breath. You smile up at him, this time your teeth showing.
He gives you a peck on your lips. “How was that?”
You sigh, “Amazing.”
Another kiss is pressed on your lips and you can faintly taste yourself on him.
“I want to properly fuck you, and that can’t be done on the couch. Bedroom, yeah?”
You nod up at Simon acquiescing to his suggestion.
“Alright, up you go then.”
He swiftly pulls you up and off the couch into his arms. You squeal at the sudden movement but it turns into giggles as Simon carries you bridal style to the bedroom.
“Wow, my night in shining armor.” You lazily loop your hands around his neck as he leads you both to the room. He just laughs at your statement.
Once there, he gently deposits you on the bed, and wastes no time picking up where you left off.
He crawls on top of you and starts to kiss you up your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth. His kiss leaves you burning, and your hands eagerly reach for him, pulling him down further into you.
You wrap your legs around his torso, and feel his dick brush up against your center, hard once again.
He pulls away to look at you, eyes connecting. “Do you need any more prep?” He brings a hand up to brush away some of the flyway hairs that covered your face. His hand lingers, cupping your head, and his thumb brushes your cheek in a soothing back and forth motion.
Smiling you answer, “No, I’m good.”
“Ok.”
Bracing himself above you, his hand trails down to grasp his dick. He gives it a few pumps before running it along your slits, and lightly taps it on your overly sensitive clit.
He then slowly guides it into you, the stretch much bigger than what his fingers could offer. You both let out a sigh as he fully sinks into you, eyes connecting at this very moment. Once he’s fully inside, he gives you some time to adjust, his hand moving to hold your hips, thumb moving in circles.
“You okay?” He asks, looking down at you. You look up at him, “Yeah, I’m good, you can start moving.”
At your consent for him to move, he does just that. He pulls his hips back before he pushes them back into you. He starts off with a steady pace, not too fast, not too slow. You’re surprised he’s not pounding into you relentlessly like he usually does. This time his thrusts are much more calculated, calm, like he’s got all the time in the world. The slower drag of him against your walls makes you roll your eyes back, reveling in the feeling of him.
It’s only him, that’s all you can think about, all you can feel. You let go of the heaviness you’ve been feeling to focus on being with him now. It’s not hard, he makes you feel like you’re floating anyways.
Your fingers run down his face, down his shoulders, taking in as much as you can of him. Then you run your hand down his tattooed arm, mapping the intricate details of his tattoos and running over the protruding veins due to him propping himself up. Simon watches you as you run your hand across him.
He gives you a particular harsher thrust, eyes trained on you when you moan and clutch his arm a harder. He picks up the pace just a little, loving the way you look beneath him, taking his cock so well.  
“Fuck. Right there, baby,” you breathe. He hits that same spot again, but this time you move up the bed a little from the force of his hips. Your breasts jiggle as you shift up the bed and Simon’s eyes are travel to your chest. He brings his hand up to up one of them, rolling his thumb over your nipple. Simon keeps this faster rhythm with his hips, slamming into your now quivering pussy, showing you no mercy as he pounds into you with force.
His thrusts are powerful that leave the breath knocked out of you.
He removes his hand from your breast to wrap it around your leg. He positions your leg so it’s resting on his shoulder, now giving him a new angle into you. This position allows you to feel him move even deeper inside you, now feeling the tip of his dick hit your cervix, which makes you whine. His thrusts continue their hard motions, but his pace starts to slow down.
Simon’s hips start to falter a little bit in their smooth rhythm, a telltale sign he’s close. At his praising, you unconsciously clench around him, making him breathe out a silent curse as his hand tightens on your leg that is propped up on his shoulder.
“Si, I’m close,” you whine. You feel so full, so consumed by all things Simon, the only thing you can focus on is him and the building orgasm that threatens to spill over.
“Me too.” Simon removes his hand that’s been propping your leg up and moves it down to your clit, and starts to rub slow circles on the bud, making you squirm. You bring your leg down from his shoulder to wrap it around his torso once again pulling him closer to you. You drag your hands down and up his back as his thumb continues to abuse your clit. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
With a few more thrusts from Simon and the quick movements of his finger on your clit, you feel the coil in you snap, and it snaps hard. Your orgasm washes over you, a blinding white light that makes you feel like you’re going to pass out, and you call out his name one last time.
Your eyes squeeze shut and you see stars, as your pussy clamps down hard on Simon’s dick. He’s a moaning mess above you as he feels your orgasm that’s traveling through your body, your walls contracting around him.
He curses out a soft “fuck baby” and then he’s following just a hair behind you, traveling over his precipice as well, emptying inside of you. You feel his come paint your walls as your pussy continues to clench around him, as you ride out your second orgasm of the night.
He collapses on top of you but is careful not to crush you completely. You’re breathing heavy as you both come down from your highs, both sweaty messes.
He lifts his head to look at you. There’s a soft smile on his face and you smile back.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, bug.”
Your smile falters, “I never want you to leave me like that ever again. Got it?” Your voice is firm, but there’s an underlying trace of tenderness. Your hand comes up to push his hair back, waiting for his answer.
“Never.”
“Good.” You pull him back down to you for a kiss.
He slowly peels himself off of you and whispers out, “Wait here.”
You lay on your back, legs bent as you wait for Simon’s return. When you hear him entering the bedroom, you slightly sit up and you notice a washcloth in one of his hands.
He kneels back on the bed and gingerly pries your legs open so he can clean you up. He delicately starts wiping your center, his first few strokes making you writhe due to oversensitivity. His hand rests tenderly on your knee, thumb stroking back and forth as he wipes you clean. He must have run the washcloth under hot water because it’s wet and feels warm against your skin.
When he’s done, he pecks the inside of your knee and gets up off the bed to go throw the washcloth in the hamper. When he returns to you, he’s in his boxers, and he has a t-shirt in his hand.
“For you, my lady.” You laugh at him and take his shirt, pulling the soft material over your body.
You both clamber under the covers, and are now wrapped up in Simon’s arms.
There’s no place you’d rather be right now, and you’re so thankful the universe allowed you another chance to be with him like this.
If he didn’t make his way back to you, you don’t even know what you would have done. Probably would have gone mental, but who could really blame you?
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as-is-above-so-below · 10 months
Text
The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader
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Hey, Jealousy
summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: NSFW, SMUT HEAVY CHAPTER, MDNI. Canon typical violence mentioned. Note: HELLO ALL! It's been a minute! This fic isn't going anywhere by any means, just had a bit of writer's block and lack of motivation to write for a bite lol. A special thank you to @lethalchiralium for workshopping with me, per usual, and for being the best beta! Enjoy and blessed be! << Previous | Next >>
“This is your target. Memorize it.” John paused as the surveillance photo of their target, a dark-haired woman with almond-shaped eyes, made its way between the trio. He placed a black cell phone in the center of the table while Soap regarded the image. “Freyja, you’re the best pickpocket out of all of us. Your task is to lift her phone and swap it out with the duplicate. Rumor has it there’s a major weapon’s deal rearing up, and I want to know when and where.”
Taking a moment to examine the photo now pinched between her thumb and forefinger, Freyja raised a brow. While she wasn’t one to judge solely based on appearances (a tactic she relied upon herself many times), the woman pictured looked far from an arms dealer. She seemed fairly young. “She has the details?”
Price nodded and partially sat on the table, arms crossed over his chair. “She’s the buyer. Rather unassuming, I know, but our intel is good.”
“Bloody hell,” Ghost mumbled, leaning into her space to sneak a peek. “They just keep gettin’ younger and younger…”
“Ah dinnae mean to be rude, but Ghost’s no’ exactly inconspicuous. A bit hard nae tae notice a giant with headgear at a social event.”
A fair point. Ghost was the tallest member of the team outside of König.
“Which is why you will be partnered with the Captain.” Freyja didn’t miss how her husband’s watchful gaze flickered between her and her co-captain. “You’ll have to couple it up to blend in; a single woman at an event like this would draw suspicion. Ghost will be going undercover as security detail and watch your six.”
“Me? Are ye sure, Captain?”
“Affirmative, Sergeant. I’d rather not have another incident like last time.”
“Last time?” Johnny looked between them. “What happened last time?”
THEN
It should’ve been a simple task, really. A pretty young woman lures a gullible, unsuspecting new hire to a roped-off room with certain expectations, only to be met with the cold steel of a knife to their throat.
As expected, the information burst from the young man’s lips like water through a broken dam, hoping to save his own skin. The quick execution Ghost offered was a mercy compared to what would happen if his boss found out he had snitched.
He could be merciful when he wanted to be.
The Simon she married was not a jealous man. A younger Ghost, at the beginning of their… “situationship”, however…
After the body was stuffed in the room’s closet, hopefully not to be found until at least the next day, he wasted no time hoisting Freyja up against a wall with ease and fucking her senseless. Her legs tightened around his waist immediately, her Venetian mask coming loose at the sudden movement and falling to the floor.
“Yes, right there. Hah, hah, nngh-”
“See what you do to me?” he growled against her cheek, hips snapping against her shaking thighs. “Can’t even get through a fucking mission without my cock gettin’ hard, and you’re over there, actin’ like a slag. Touchin’ that bastard like that-”
“I was just - doing - my job-”
Ghost’s brutal pace stopped and pinned her to the wall. One hand no longer supporting her weight, jumped from her ass to her throat, the bare, calloused skin squeezing the sides. 
“You took it too far. I should leave you high and dry for the show you put on.”
Her fingers scratched at the short hair near the base of his neck, earning a warning sound from the man. Freyja wriggled her hips to find some kind of friction, a release. “Fuck fuck fuck – please, Ghost, don’t stop. Make me come, please–”
“Yeah? Y’want me to make you come?”
“Yes, yes, please! Please, I need to come–”
“Have you learned your lesson?”
“Yes! I’m sorry, so sorry! Fuck me!”
“You’re fuckin’ lucky I’m feelin’ forgiving.”
“Oh shit, thank you, thank you, I’m sorry–”
“You’d better be.”
NOW
The sergeant looked between Price and the couple, studying Price’s lifted brow and Freyja’s pressed lips and flushed skin. Ghost snorted beside her, which got him a sharp jab from his wife’s elbow.
“Bunch o’ rabbits, you two!” he snickered, laughing into his fist. Just how they managed to bone in the field so often, he’d never know. “It’s a miracle ye don’t have a thousand wee bairns by now.”
“Could’ve had them discharged for the mess I had to listen to.” 
“We said we’re sorry!”
“No, you said you were sorry. I won’t apologize if I don’t mean it.”
“I’m going to kill you–”
John cut them off, standing again and collecting his paperwork. “The target rarely comes out of hiding, so we can’t risk spooking her. Freyja, Soap, you’d better sell it.”
“Oh, I’ll make it believable, a’right.”
“And if somehow you find a way around this arrangement – please, for the love of God, no shagging on the job,” Price stressed, pointing at each of them for emphasis. “Got it?”
Johnny raised his hand.  “Ah would just like tae point out that, for once, I’m the good egg here,” he pointed out with a wide grin.
Multiple sets of eyes rolled. “Right then. Dapper up. I’ll see you all tonight.”
Ecstatic about their upcoming mission, the Scot jumped up from his seat, still beaming. He was already bubbling with ideas for their strategy, the backstory of the characters they would play, what he was going to wear–
“Johnny.”
“Sir?”
Ghost leaned forward, elbows planted on his knees as he looked up at the man. “Remember what I said about flirtin’ with my wife?”
“Aye.”
“Still in effect.”
.
.
.
Soap made it his mission to be as handsy as humanly possible the moment they stepped out of their vehicle. Ever the gentleman, he stuck behind Freyja when taking the steps up the grandiose front stairs into the venue; once at the top, his hand slipped across her lower back from one hip to the next.
Both operators kept their attire simple yet appropriate for the dress code. They complimented each other nicely; Johnny sported a simple black suit and a white collared shirt with the top two buttons undone, while Freyja donned a rich, dark purple, satin gown with an open back dipping to her tailbone. They were meant to fit in, not draw attention to themselves.
When they entered the ballroom, crystal chandeliers twinkling above, she glanced around the perimeter at the masked guards. Only taking in their stature for a second before moving on to the next, attempting to locate their backup –
There.
Ghost blended in seamlessly, dressed exactly like the other guards stationed around the room. All black ensemble, black combat boots, and a balaclava with a window for the eyes. They met briefly with Frey’s before she shifted her gaze up to her date, placing one hand on top of his at her side, the other between his shoulder blades.
All night, Ghost’s stare could have burned a hole through her skin straight down to her soul as her partner positively manhandled her. Nothing was safe. Her ass, hips, bare shoulders, and stomach were frequently groped, pinched, and caressed; you name it, Sergeant MacTavish did it. He came up from behind with a champagne flute for her, pressing against her as his hands snaked around to cradle her belly. Kissing obviously wasn’t off the table, his warm lips frequently finding hers; he had enough decency to keep that portion of the night brief.
Finally, after an hour and a half of loving it up with her husband’s best friend, Johnny turned Freyja into a pillar, forcing her to squeak in surprise. Gentle kisses pecked from her collar up to her ear, using his body as a shield.
“You’re going to get us in trouble,” she whispered, keeping up the appearance of a drunk, handsy couple by carding her fingers through the back of his mohawk.
He chuckled against her hair. “That’s the idea, Hen. Figure one o’ us should get a good fuck outta tonight.” Frey rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to shove him. “Eyes on the target. She’s had a chance tae get settled. Move in on yer mark.”
She followed his guidance, subtle pressure at the base of her skull pointing her in the direction of their target. Thankfully, a small purse dangled by the woman’s pelvis on a long chain, ripe for the picking. If all went according to plan, Soap would walk them into each other, allowing her to switch the dummy in his pocket with the real thing.
Freyja initiated their objective by stepping in that direction but allowed her companion to take the lead. Clinging to his bicep and stumbling slightly, she whined, “You are in so much trouble when we get home!”
“Aw, c’mon Bonnie! Ah just cannae help myself!” he purred, bending to nibble her ear and give her a reason to jerk away.
“Hey, stop that!” As she lunged to the left, she fell out of the Sergeant’s grasp and into the young woman, grabbing her to keep upright. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”
“What the fuck!” She wheeled on them, eyes wide at the sudden intrusion into her conversation. “Watch where you’re going!”
Freyja huffed angrily in Johnny’s direction, straightening herself and her dress. “I am so sorry about him. You know how men can be. Always impatient.”
“Unfortunately,” the woman mumbled, nose turned up in disgust. If Freyja could rely on anything, she could always lean on most women’s mutual distaste for men. While it always felt distasteful to manipulate while undercover, it got the job done.
With a soft huff, Freyja grabbed Soap’s hand again and departed with a soft wave, tugging him toward their exit point. Ghost was nowhere in sight.
According to plan, the Brit had dipped into the women’s bathroom when he was sure the lift was successful, and they would eventually follow. Going into the bathroom after two people clearly looking for a space to hook up would look suspicious. The real trick was leaving enough time between their entrances that nobody would notice, without waiting too long for the other guards to notice Ghost’s absence.
She used her best high-pitched, giggling squeal and ditzy movements, swatting at the wandering hands pawing at the shiny, smooth material of her outfit. It had been at least two minutes since Ghost had disappeared, and she decided that was enough leeway for them to follow without raising any alarms. But just as her palm pressed against the cool doorknob, her ally stopped behind her.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Freyja felt the abdominal muscles under Soap’s shirt tense; otherwise, his composure remained unchanged. “Sorry?” he asked with a laugh, keeping his body turned toward her. She refrained from ripping the stranger’s hand off Johnny’s shoulder and ripping back his ring finger–
The man smiled, perfect white teeth nearly sparkling in the light. “Ye owe meh a drink! C’mon, one more shot fur a fellow Scotsman?”
“Shite! Ah completely forgot!” Johnny hovered over her still and bent to run his nose along the shell of her ear. “Ah’ll be right behind ye. Just give me a fiver to finish my drink, aye?”
“Sure thing.” Freyja hung her hands on the lapels of his jacket, anchoring him in place to stretch and purr in his ear, “Don’t take too long.”
She was so fucking dead when they got home. Likely won’t walk right for days.
Barely halfway through the door, a firm grip pulled her into the room, slammed the door shut with her body, then wrapped around her throat. Her heels brought her just a bit closer to her husband’s height, brown eyes practically set ablaze. Ghost had abandoned his jacket and rolled the sleeves of his button-down, exposing the black ink on one forearm.
I should put in for a day or two off.
“Did you not learn your lesson last time?” Ghost asked, low-pitched and gravelly as if he had been restraining himself for hours. He probably had been. “Must’ve been too generous. Let’s try this again.” A man on a mission, he swiftly twisted the lock on the handle and hauled her with him several steps away from the door before forcing Freyja to her knees. His touch moved to cup her jaw.
“Broke my fucking finger watching him touch you, touch what’s mine. This mouth-” His digits snatched her cheeks, making her painted lips purse with a soft whimper. “-is mine. Your cunt is mine. Your body is mine – facts you’ve apparently forgotten. Let me remind you.”
Freyja gulped helplessly when his other hand slid the leather strap of his belt out of the buckle, then looked up at him through her mascara-coated lashes.
“Soap-“
“I. Don’t. Care. Do it.”
Her cheeks were enflamed under her blush, but she still raised a brow at him. Again, Simon wasn’t known to be a jealous man; they were very secure in their relationship, trusting each other completely. Plus, Johnny was in a committed, loving relationship, after all. But still, watching his best friend all over her, purposefully egging him on and pushing boundaries…
Anyone would lose their patience.
Her nails, painted to match her color scheme for the evening, worked at undoing his slacks and dropping them and his underwear down enough to free his already hard member. Slacks which, by the way, were fitted perfectly to hug his ungodly figure. Saliva pooled in her mouth at the sight, her hole already clenching around nothing. 
As if he had read her mind, Ghost seized the back of her head and snarled, “I’m beginning to lose my patience, love.”
Suddenly he was buried down her throat, to the hilt. Tears sprang to her eyes; she moved to dig into his thighs for purchase, which earned her additional pressure at the back of her head. “No touching.”
All Freyja could do was blink up at him and hold her hands behind her back, hoping he understood the message. Thankfully, he let up and slowly drew out before easing back in, fucking her throat with soft moans and the occasional curse. Ghost groaned at the sight of his precum and her spit gathering in his blond curlies, her dark lipstick smudging on his cock, tear streaks running lines in her makeup…
She flattened her tongue, bobbing her head with a steady rhythm while breathing through her nose and intermittently taking him until her nose was enshrouded in coarse hair. Even if she wasn’t getting off, and Ghost’s pretty face was hidden by his mask, the expressions in his eyes as she edged him toward his release were almost as satisfying.
“Fuck, you like that?” he questioned, hoarse and needy. “Almost like you were – hngh, shit – hoping I’d p-punish you.”
Even submissive, vulnerable on her knees before him and choking on his cock, Freyja still made him stutter and whimper. How many hours had he spent uncomfortably hard, keeping his dutiful post as their backup? Observing the near obscene show Soap had put on?
Ghost leaned his torso forward, supporting his weight against the wall with his free hand. He didn’t have to tell her he was close; even with his controlled breathing, his eyes threatening to flutter shut was a dead giveaway. Still, the head of his cock popped out of her mouth, garnering her attention again.
“How much of me can you take?”
“All of it.”
“Bloody hell…” He presented himself again, the hooded tip resting against her lips. “Lick.”
She immediately ducked under him and laid her tongue against the vein on the underside of his dick, applying soft, slow pressure to the tip again before taking him back in her mouth. Freyja picked up the speed and hummed around him, pushing (or rather, pulling) him closer and closer…
“Fucking shit – take it, take it, take it–”
His warm cum spilled down her throat, but she continued slowly guiding Ghost through his orgasm as he pulsated and huffed quietly above her. Freyja basked in the way he flinched, eyes closed as her touch bordered on overstimulating and torturous.
Satisfied and out of breath, Ghost jerked his hips away to avoid any more of her touch and offered his wife his hands. She immediately took them and was pulled to her feet effortlessly with a moment to find her balance. When he was finished tucking himself back into his trousers and fastening his belt again, Ghost slid the delicate strap of her dress that had slipped off her shoulder back into place, his gentle touch dragging across her skin.
Freyja was about to speak when the door rattled, someone trying to open it before they both heard a familiar accent on the other side. “Bonnie? ‘S me, open up.”
She gestured for him to stand out of sight for a moment while she unlocked the door and opened it just enough to let Soap in, careful not to expose her current state to others who may be watching from the party. When it was closed and secured again, Johnny took in their appearances; Freyja, clearly dazed with her hair tousled and makeup smudged, and Ghost, with his fly down, shirt untucked, and blazer tossed carelessly onto the sink.
Then, with the absolute, most shit-eating grin, said, “Ye’r welcome, Hen.”
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