#RUSS YOU'RE SO TALL

[hahaifolded]

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Joint Mission Author's Notes: This was supposed to be short but I had an epiphany after I finished Warnings: MDNI, Angst

This was a standard joint mission. Two teams, one task, in and out, and it's done. So why did John Price feel so nervous?

The mission seemed pretty straightforward and the new guys seemed formidable. Not at the same caliber as the 141, but they're getting there.

Really, everything looks fine, so why is he nervous?

But it didn't matter as he pushes his concern to the side as he greets the team of three on the tarmac. After some quick introductions, he guides the trio to the conference room where the rest of his team waits.

As they got closer, John felt his heart beating faster and faster. What was going on with him?

And he wasn't the only one as Johnny also had a bad feeling about this mission. However, unlike his captain, he actually voiced his concerns out loud.

"And why were we paired up with these guys again?" the Scotsman asks for the 5th time today. Ghost glares at him while Kyle groans. Gaz shoots you a quick glance to see if that had caught your attention. It didn't.

"I mean, why couldn't we get Farah and Alex to help us on this or even Los Vaqueros?" Soap adds.

"Laswell's orders," Kyle grunts out.

Honestly, the fellow Sergeant wasn't sure what the concern was. He could tell Price was also feeling something, but what? Laswell has never led them astray so this should turn out fine, right? The last time Laswell sent someone, things started out perfectly. As long as the 141 can act right, then things should go swimmingly.

Well, after first introductions, Kyle realizes that they're not the ones that need to act right. It's the new guys. Gaz caught the extra attention you got from the three.

"Sergeant Keegan P. Russ, at your service."

"Sergeant Kim Hong-jin, but you can call me Horangi."

"Lieutenant Nikto."

That last one would not have been so bad if you weren't the only one who got a handshake from the Russian.

Kyle knew he wasn't the only one to notice as he caught Ghost clenching his fist.

And Ghost was not going to let you go without a fight.

"Isn't there supposed to be four of you? Where's your captain?" he asks. Ghost stands tall and stares them down.

The three don't react as they take a seat at the table. It isn't until the three have settled in their seats that one of them speaks up.

"Our Captain already talked to yours so don't worry about it," Keegan replies. He stares back at Ghost, clearly not intimidated by the British Lieutenant.

"Great, so we're stuck with a Yankee, a gambling addict, and a commie," Ghost groans out.

"That's enough," you bark out. You shoot an incredulous look at the Lieutenant who immediately buckles down. You order everyone to take a seat so you can start your presentation. "The faster we get this done, the faster I can get back to work and you guys can continue whatever this is," you chastise.

The new team immediately voices their agreement which made Ghost's blood boil.

As you go over the details of the mission, Price looks around the room and catches the way the three new soldiers stared at you. Something in their eyes didn't sit right with him. It looked way too familiar, it almost reminded him of his bo... oh hell no.

He calls out your name and says, "you know what, I can take it from here." He pushes his chair out and places his hands on his knees, getting ready to stand up. However, before he can even get up, you immediately speak up.

"What do you think you're doing?" You ask. You're clearly not impressed.

Price feels the energy in the room shift. He looks at you sheepishly and repeats himself. "I can finish it from here."

You scoff. "Captain Price," you slowly say, "what's my position here?"

"The 141's Intelligence Operative."

"Close, the 141's temporary Intelligence Operative," you correct him. John feels his heart clench. You fail to notice his heartbreak and continue, "and what's my role as the Intelligence Operative?"

"Deal with anything and everything that has to do with intelligence. I think I got it, I'm--"

"No, no, no. I'm not done," you bite back. You're obviously annoyed. It seemed like you were annoyed most days here. "And this presentation, what is it about?"

"Intelligence surrounding our newest mission," John grumbles out.

"Okay, okay. So, if this presentation has to do with intelligence, who should do it?" You stare at him, eyes wide, waiting for an answer.

Horangi raises his hand which catches you off guard. "Yes, Sergeant Kim." Now you're sheepish, embarrassed that the new guys had to see you like this.

"Please, call me Horangi," he assures you. Much to John's dismay, that seemed to ease your concerns. "If I may, I think the answer that you're looking for and your captain forgot is that you should be doing this presentation, and I completely agree." Despite your straight face, your eyes glowed with content. You thanked Sergeant Kim and turned your attention back to Price.

"Is that okay with you Captain? May I continue?"

John just nods, feeling absolutely embarrassed and ashamed with himself. What the fuck was he thinking?

As you continue with your presentation, the 141 oscillate their attention from you to the new guys. Ghost catches the gentle look in Nikto's eyes. Johnny recognizes the look of admiration on the Keegan's face and Kyle notices the excitement in Horangi's eyes. And Price finally understands the root of his worries as he realizes that this new task force is looking at you the exact same way that you used to look at them.

It seemed like the one thing that the boys were avoiding could very much happen now and it would all be their fault.

Word Count: 980

More Thoughts - Next Thought

[its-avalon-08]

Hi. Could you do a Fernando Alonso one where reader are Carmen's sister and sometimes accompany her to races to spend time together due to reader's busy schedule with her modeling career and to the point where Fernando becomes interested in knowing more about her while George and Carmen try to set them up, since they realize how well the two get along and the tension that is in the air

meddling and podiums (fa14)

✦ pairing - fernando alonso x female!reader

✦ genre - friends to lovers, meddling george and carmen, cute, fluff,

The paddock was buzzing with the usual energy of race day. The sun beat down on the vibrant F1 scene, with fans filling the grandstands, drivers making last-minute preparations, and teams moving swiftly to ensure everything was ready for lights out. Amidst all this, Carmen and her sister, Y/N, walked through the paddock, turning a few heads.

Y/N hadn’t been to a race in a while. Her modeling career kept her moving from city to city, but today, she managed to carve out time to support her sister and spend some quality time together.

“I'm so glad you could make it,” Carmen smiled, looping her arm through Y/N's as they navigated through the McLaren garage. “Feels like I never see you anymore."

Y/N laughed, adjusting her sunglasses as she glanced around. "Tell me about it. I've missed this vibe. You know how crazy my schedule’s been. But I needed this. A break, some racing… and, of course, hanging out with my favorite sister."

“Your only sister,” Carmen teased.

As they walked past the garages, Y/N caught sight of the familiar green of the Aston Martin team and its star driver, Fernando Alonso. His presence was impossible to ignore—tall, rugged, and oozing confidence as he discussed strategy with his engineers. She had seen him on TV countless times but seeing him up close was something else entirely. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly commanding he was.

Carmen noticed her sister’s gaze lingering. "Interesting view?" she asked playfully, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, though a smirk played on her lips. "Just… observing. No harm in looking, right?"

"Right…" Carmen said, clearly noting the spark of interest. "Come on, George is waiting for us at Mercedes. But, I wouldn't mind taking a detour near the Aston Martin garage later."

Y/N chuckled. "You're not that subtle, you know."

As they made their way towards George, Y/N felt someone’s eyes on her. Glancing up, she met Fernando Alonso’s gaze for the briefest of moments. He looked curious, like he was trying to place her face. She wasn’t just another person in the paddock to him. And then, just as quickly, the moment passed, and he turned back to his conversation.

They reached Mercedes, where George Russell was leaning casually against a wall, spotting them from a distance with a wide grin on his face. "Well, look who finally decided to show up—Miss World herself," he teased, pushing off and walking over with a playful bounce in his step.

Y/N smirked, rolling her eyes as she hugged him. "Oh please, as if you don’t love having me around to boost your popularity. Admit it, you’ve missed me."

"Missed? Try celebrating the peace and quiet since you've been jet-setting across the world," George shot back, ruffling her hair in a brotherly gesture. "Now you're back to ruin it all."

"Ruin it? I make everything better, Russ. Without me, you'd be bored out of your mind."

Carmen laughed as she watched them banter, but George wasn’t done. “Honestly, I think the paddock’s been too calm. Carmen’s always talking about you, and I’m like—great, now I have to deal with two of them. Double trouble."

Y/N punched him lightly on the arm. “Admit it, you love having me around to keep you on your toes."

George laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright! You win. It’s nice to see you here, Y/N. It’s not the same without you stirring things up."

Y/N smirked. "That’s what I thought."

As they exchanged more playful jabs, George's expression turned more mischievous. "Oh, by the way, Alonso's been… asking about you."

Carmen and George shared a knowing look. "Well, you did just catch his eye. Plus, he's been asking questions like… ‘Who’s the girl that sometimes comes with Carmen?’ And ‘What does she do?’ You know, the usual."

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. "He could just ask me directly, you know."

“Oh, I’m sure he’s thinking about it,” Carmen said, nudging her.

As they chatted, George’s phone buzzed. He glanced down and grinned. “Speak of the devil. Fernando’s just invited us to the Aston Martin hospitality. Care to join?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, pretending to think. "Isn't this a bit of an obvious setup?"

Carmen laughed. "It's not a setup if there's already chemistry."

George nodded, backing her up. "Exactly. Come on, Y/N. Just join us. I bet it’ll be fun."

Y/N sighed, though a flicker of curiosity burned in her eyes. "Alright, alright. But if this gets awkward, I’m blaming both of you."

"Deal," George smirked, already texting Fernando back.

As they made their way toward Aston Martin, Y/N felt the flutter of anticipation rise in her chest. She hadn’t expected to feel like this, but there was something intriguing about Fernando. The way he carried himself, the quiet confidence… it piqued her interest.

And if the way George and Carmen were looking at her was any indication, they were already rooting for something to happen.

---

The Aston Martin hospitality suite was buzzing with activity when Y/N, Carmen, and George arrived. The gleaming green branding and calm atmosphere contrasted sharply with the chaotic energy outside. Fernando was standing near a table, engrossed in conversation with one of the team members, but as soon as they entered, his eyes flicked toward them.

George waved, leading the way. “Fernando! Hope we’re not interrupting anything important.”

Fernando glanced up, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Not at all,” he said smoothly, nodding at George before his gaze shifted to Y/N. “I see you’ve brought company.”

Y/N felt a slight flutter in her stomach as his dark eyes locked on hers. His presence was even more intense up close, and though he kept his tone casual, there was something in the way he looked at her that made her feel like they were the only two in the room.

“This is Y/N,” George said, clearly enjoying the moment. “You know, Carmen’s sister. We thought we’d drag her to more races since she’s been so busy.”

“Nice to finally meet you in person,” Fernando said, extending his hand toward Y/N. His voice was deep and calm, carrying a sense of quiet authority.

Y/N smiled, taking his hand in a firm handshake. “Likewise. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she replied, her voice steady despite the unexpected jolt that came from the contact.

“Only good things, I hope,” Fernando said, his tone light but his eyes lingering on hers.

Y/N tilted her head slightly, a playful glint in her eyes. “Mostly.”

Carmen shot George a look, clearly noticing the subtle tension between them. “So, Fernando, you’re ready for today’s race?”

“Always,” he responded, but his attention was still on Y/N. “And what about you, Y/N? How does this compare to the excitement of your world?”

Y/N laughed softly, breaking eye contact for a moment. “A little different from the fashion shows, but I think I prefer the noise and chaos here. Plus, watching these races is a nice break from my schedule.”

Fernando’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “I imagine modeling takes you all over the world.”

“It does,” she replied. “But I try to make time for things that really matter. Family, friends… experiences.” Her eyes flicked up to meet his again, and there was no mistaking the subtle undercurrent in her words.

George, sensing the building tension, decided to jump in before things got too intense. “You two are making me feel like a third wheel,” he said, laughing awkwardly. Carmen elbowed him, but George just grinned. “Maybe we should give you a little more space.”

Carmen chimed in, smiling innocently. “That’s not a bad idea. George and I were going to grab some food, actually. You know, let you two get to know each other without us butting in.”

Y/N shot her sister a look, knowing exactly what she was trying to do. “Carmen…”

But George was already pulling Carmen along, leaving Fernando and Y/N standing there alone. "We'll be right back!" he called out, far too chipper as they disappeared into the crowd.

Y/N turned back to Fernando, trying not to laugh at her sister and George’s obvious meddling. “They’re not exactly subtle, are they?”

Fernando chuckled, his gaze softening. “Not at all.”

There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t awkward. The air between them felt charged, like there was something simmering beneath the surface. Y/N could feel his eyes on her, the weight of his attention making her heart race.

“You’re close with George and Carmen?” Fernando asked, his tone casual, but his interest was clear.

“Yeah,” she replied, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Carmen and I are really close. It’s hard with my schedule, so I try to come to races whenever I can to see her. George is like an annoying older brother, but… we all get along.”

Fernando nodded, his eyes following her movements. “I can see that. They seem like good people.”

“They are,” Y/N said. “George is always looking out for Carmen, and by extension, me. Which is probably why they’re trying so hard to—” she paused, catching herself before finishing the sentence, but Fernando raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“To…?” he prompted.

Y/N smirked, shaking her head. “To do exactly what they’re doing right now—setting us up.”

Fernando’s lips curved into a small smile. “Ah, so you noticed.”

“Hard not to,” she replied with a light laugh. “They’ve been dropping hints for weeks now.”

Fernando’s expression grew more serious, though the smile never left his face. “And what do you think about that? Being set up?”

Y/N paused, meeting his gaze again. There was something about him—he was confident, sure, but not in an arrogant way. His interest in her felt genuine, and she couldn’t deny the chemistry that was already building between them.

“I don’t usually like being set up,” she admitted, her voice softening. “But… I guess it depends on the person.”

Fernando’s smile widened slightly, and he took a step closer. “And what do you think of me so far?”

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat, the intensity of his gaze pulling her in. She smiled, tilting her head slightly as she held his gaze. “I think you might surprise me.”

Fernando’s eyes darkened with interest, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

Before Y/N could respond, Carmen and George reappeared with mischievous grins on their faces, carrying trays of food.

“Did we miss anything?” George asked, far too casually.

Y/N glanced at Fernando, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Nothing you two don’t already know.”

time skip

As the race weekend unfolded, it became clear to everyone in the paddock—especially to George and Carmen—that Fernando and Y/N were inseparable. Every free second, whether it was between practice sessions, during lunch breaks, or even casual moments walking through the paddock, they were side by side. Their conversations seemed endless, filled with easy laughter and stolen glances.

George and Carmen watched from the sidelines, their plotting almost becoming a sport of its own.

Friday afternoon

“Look at them,” Carmen whispered to George, nudging him as they stood by the Mercedes garage. Fernando and Y/N were sitting on a bench a few meters away, deep in conversation. Y/N was laughing at something Fernando had said, her face lighting up in a way that was hard to miss.

George smirked, crossing his arms. “I think we’ve done quite a job here.”

Carmen giggled, leaning into him. “You think they even notice how much time they’re spending together?”

“No way. They’re too busy making heart eyes at each other.”

Saturday, after qualifying

As the sun began to dip, the paddock was alive with chatter. Drivers were heading off for briefings, and team members bustled about. But Y/N and Fernando stood off to the side, leaning casually against a wall, completely in their own world.

“So,” Y/N said, leaning closer to him with a teasing smile, “you and George seem to get along surprisingly well. He’s not too annoying for you?”

Fernando chuckled, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “I think I’ve learned to tune him out when he starts talking too much.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes. “That’s the secret to dealing with George. He loves the sound of his own voice.”

Fernando raised an eyebrow, his voice dropping just slightly. “And what about you? Are you as good at tuning him out?”

“Sometimes,” Y/N said, biting her lip, her tone playful. “But mostly, I just out-talk him.”

Fernando’s smirk grew, the tension between them unmistakable. “I can’t say I mind that.”

The air between them grew heavier, but before the moment could deepen, George’s voice cut through the tension.

“Hey, lovebirds!” he called out, grinning widely as he approached with Carmen. “Need any more help getting through this weekend together?”

Y/N groaned, laughing despite herself. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

Carmen elbowed George, shooting Y/N and Fernando a playful wink. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous he’s not the center of attention.”

Fernando chuckled, his gaze lingering on Y/N. “I don’t think anyone could take attention away from Y/N.”

Sunday afternoon, post-race

The crowd was roaring as the podium ceremony wrapped up, and Fernando had just claimed an impressive P2. Y/N stood at the edge of the celebration, smiling as she watched him pop the champagne and soak in the cheers from the fans. There was something exhilarating about being part of this world, but today it felt even more electric. Fernando’s win wasn’t the only thing sparking the excitement in the air.

As the drivers made their way off the podium, Fernando spotted Y/N standing by, clapping and grinning at him. His eyes lit up as he made a beeline toward her, weaving through the crowd. Still in his race suit, champagne dripping from his hair, he looked like a man on top of the world.

As the podium celebrations wound down, Fernando made his way through the crowd, eyes scanning for Y/N. He spotted her standing just off to the side, her smile wide as she clapped along with the cheering fans. Despite the chaos surrounding them, she was a steady presence, and he couldn't help but feel drawn to her.

Still in his race suit, with champagne glistening on his hair and skin, he approached her, wiping a hand across his face as he grinned. “Not bad, huh?”

Y/N beamed up at him, her eyes bright. “Not bad at all. You looked like you were in your element out there.”

Fernando chuckled, slightly breathless but clearly energized. “I had some extra motivation.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, her voice teasing. “And what might that be?”

He took a step closer, the noise of the paddock dimming in his mind. “You.”

Her smile faltered for just a second, surprise flashing in her eyes before she tilted her head, amused. “Me?”

Fernando nodded, his voice lowering as his gaze softened. “Yeah. Being around you this weekend… I haven’t felt like this in a while.”

There was a moment of silence between them, the air heavy with unsaid words. Y/N’s heart was racing, the playful teasing that usually colored their conversations giving way to something deeper.

“Listen,” Fernando said, his voice gentle but sure, “I know this weekend’s been crazy, but if you’re not flying out tomorrow… I’d like to take you out. Just us, somewhere quiet. No paddock noise, no distractions.”

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, her gaze locking with his. There was something sincere and almost vulnerable in his eyes, and for a moment, she forgot about the crowd, the race, and everything else.

“So,” she began, a small, teasing smile playing on her lips, “you’re asking me out, Alonso?”

Fernando smirked, his usual confidence creeping back as he held her gaze. “I am.”

Y/N bit her lip, her smile widening. “I think I’d like that.”

His eyes brightened with a mix of relief and excitement, the tension between them palpable. “Good. I'll make sure it’s worth your while.”

Y/N stepped a little closer, her voice dropping to match the quiet intimacy of the moment. “I’m counting on it.”

For a brief second, the world around them seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them standing there, caught in the electricity of something new.

As George and Carmen celebrated their success from the sidelines, Fernando and Y/N exchanged a look filled with the kind of tension that only comes when two people know they’re on the edge of something more.

And for once, the noise of the race weekend faded into the background, leaving just the two of them in the moment.

[vyzz-undercover]

pspspsps dinner time everyone

[cato/f!ambassador]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(5,700ish words) (im cooked)

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•slight dubcon [again]

•hints of size kink

•intercourse [M/F]

•discussions of virginity

•vague breathplay

•even more negligible aftercare

•degrading language

•mild possessive behaviour

•tumblr's pisspoor formatting as per last time

———————————————————————————————————

im once again doing a free magic show here and pulling a rabbit (this fic) out my ass. so, without further a-do the tagging... @kit-williams, @passionofthesith, @pluvio-tea, @the-raven-lady, @bispecsual, @egrets-not-regrets, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @lemon-russ. let me know if anyone else wanna be tagged if i do a part three HAHAHAHHAHA i might double down on the comedy-of-errors and have Guilliman get involved. Not like a three-way with this particular fic, even if I'd love to slut papa smurf out. There's always another time and another chance to sexualise an old man :3

———————————————————————————————————

Cato finds you relatively easily.

Truthfully, you make no actual sport of it. But he's never going to pass up a cheap bit of entertainment at your expense.

At this time of the ship's cycle you're most likely to be in the east wing, pointedly the lower libraries. He knows this. He won't confess why or how he knows, though—so, fuck off.

You're lazy and predictable. To say nothing of the fact you're far too comfortable scuttling about his Father's vessel. If a hypothetical assassin ever could get onto the ship without being stomped into paste by him immediately, they'd have no problems tracking you down. You may as well be a sevitor running on rails for all your movements stay the same.

He notes you're not on the first level.

Nor the second.

You are on the third, in the leftmost quadrant.

In the restricted reading area.

You do have clearance—but the fact still irks him. Typically, this was for his more decorated brothers to catalogue Xenos. Typically, one needed to be accompanied to even access this level.

But oh, no—no, you're allowed.

You're allowed because you are a damnable leach of a woman. And also the bane of his existence, did he mention that? And you're—you're—tucked up in secure side-room, reading on a data-slate; half-asleep in a little blue robe and looking the pict of adorable sloth.

You don't notice him immediately.

Clearly too absorbed in your gerrymandering-for-servitors cheat-sheet.

And that annoys him even more.

Because, are you really that obtuse? So unassailable in your own mind that you're this blatantly fucking oblivious? He's an Astartes, damn it. Sure, he's in casual rest attire instead of clanking plate—but he's a large, two-and-a-bit meter tall trans-human war-machine standing in the doorway—and you haven't even noticed him. Ignorant like some little rodent chewing away at crumbs in it's hovel.

His Father's got a vermin problem on board, and the mice are stupid and bold and literate... along with rather cozy, apparently.

A finely woven navy throw is swaddled around you where you're lying on the chaise lounge. And the sight of you bundled up inspires a vivid déjà-vu of the last time you were alone with him with little more than a blanket over you.

Cato hesitates for a heartbeat, swallows down the sudden lump in his throat and sets his jaw.

He steps into the room and waves a hand over the laser-pad locking mechanism.

There's a fractional second in which you become cognisant to the sound of the shutter door closing and where you actively notice him.

Then there's a shrill scream as if you've pinched a nerve.

The data-slate goes flying, pelted at his head. But it hits the shutter door and clatters to the floor, far-off any hint of a good mark.

Useless woman.

Realising it's him a moment later, you heave out a racketing sigh.

"Throne of Terra, Ca—" you start, and it sounds like you're going to say his first name before you rightly correct yourself and say, "C-Commander, you scared me half to death."

He immediately sets about accosting you, "Have you been sitting here with the door open this whole time?"

"No," you nip out.

"You are aware that I can tell when you're lying?"

"I'm certain you can," your tone flattens in a way he's only ever heard you talk to particularly sleazy representatives with. It's not an honest exchange, it's double-speak. It's mocking. You're mocking him.

He grits his teeth.

You've grown more open in your defiance towards him as of late, certainly not because of any revelation or reason and it rubs him in a dangerous, new way. He's not about to let it slide, either.

"Is that so?" His words are sharp and accusative and he hopes—he hopes he'll get the delight of watching you cower like you usually do when confronted by him. "Have you been lying to me often, then?"

Half his hopes come true. You look away nervously and mumble something almost inaudibly, and he'd not have noticed if not for his far superior hearing.

It was, "...maybe," and all Cato can help but do being himself, is detonate.

"And what have you been deceiving me of, you scheming little whore?" He snarls, fuming—a dozen crimes and sins crowding his mind you might be tried for. Maybe he's been far too lenient to the actual reality of your evil. Finally, validation to corroborate his deviation—maybe you'll admit you're some Slanneshi fleshchanger, and that you intended to have burrowed so deep in his mind.

Nonetheless, you're nowhere near even close to fast enough to defend yourself. But it's not like he gives you the chance.

He's crossed the distance with a practiced speed. And quicker than you can even yelp, you are pinned to the lounge—a shackle in the form of his fist around your smaller throat.

The pressure is a limp handshake by his standards. You're not really choking. Just stifled slightly for good measure.

Still, it'd be a mere flex to break your neck. He could snap you like a stylus with what was to him, ultimately, nothing but a simple twitch of his fingers. And he would think more about the blatant contrasts between you both much longer if he wasn't far too distracted by the fact you even struggle prettily wantonly. Big eyes wide and glossy with animal panic. Involuntary tears gather at the corners as you register what's going on at last. The mad temptation to lick them if they so much as dare trail down your cheeks begins eating at him.

Some rational part of his rational mind reminds him he can't get the truth out of you when he's vaguely throttling you, though—and he lets you go begrudgingly. Instead opting for looming over you as you roll sidelong on the couch, breathing fast.

He crouches down to your level and grumbles, still absorbed in his raging.

"Speak," he barks, and pointedly grabs you by the chin.

"I–I hadn't actually—" you start, breathless as you mumble. "Actually, uh, laid with anyone, even though I nodded I sort of... had."

He's staggered at the statement, "...that's it?"

A vague lie of omission, but it's not the great corruption he sought to root out.

Then he actually thinks about what you've just admitted.

Like fog banished under a rising sun, his anger at the thought of treachery immediately dissipates into blistering revelation.

"Hold on, you..." Cato starts, baffled and completely knocked for a six, meeting your gaze slowly—genuinely stunned as he pulls his hand back fully. "I... I was the first?"

You look away cursorily, face reddening not only with your previous strains, but with embarrassment.

Now, that was the reaction of a guilty conscience.

Cato doesn't know what to do with the information. Nor does he really know what he feels.

He'd been the first. He feels like he's won something over his brothers. Therefore, fuck the lot of them—and fuck Titus, specifically. Even if he's not sure why. He truly couldn't believe it. There's success, sure—but then there's taking the laurels: whole and absolute. And this... this is exactly that. But oh, for some apparently vestal thing, you'd let him bully down to the hilt in your tight cunt; whining like a whore when he spilled himself inside you. Throne, it was almost suffocating to think back on it now. So willing to have your maidenhead taken, nevermind the fact you weren't the only one who'd had a new experience that day. But you didn't need to know that.

"Another notch to my mantel of victories then," he ultimately decides is the best thing to say, gloating to himself.

"Unbelievable," you sigh softly as you shakily sit yourself up.

But there's the problem again. The one tangible, constant problem with having laid you. It's made you mouthy. He only ever glimpsed your boldness when you interacted with other baselines in the past. You never sassed Astartes, or at least, he's never seen you do it. But now that stubbornness and unwillingness to back down in a political forum is on full display heedless of situation. As if you've suddenly become one of the auto-felating Imperial Fists—or any of Dorn's insufferable ball-busting scions, really. Worst of all, it's only managed to somehow make him even more enthralled annoyed with you than usual. You're still too good at quashing your anger, hard as it is to rouse. But he loves loathes that you bite the lure instead of shying off now.

"To think that I was the first—is your entire professional role not centred around charm? Would no one else have you with that rotten attitude you've been hiding?" he says, knowing he's being nasty, knowing he's twisting the knife; and absolutely praying for you to fall for it.

Cato watches a rainbow of emotions pass over your features, before you settle on one that makes you look like you ate something sour. He's hit a weak spot. But the sentiment holds true. His Primarch thinks you the best and brightest to sway planets? You couldn't even seduce some daft, drunken aristocratic fool to fuck you.

You, the prettiest baseline he's ever seen.

...maybe Guilliman is right in saying the Imperium has rolled belly-up with bloat.

"That's not—that's not why and you know it," you open your mouth and jumble your words briefly before getting out, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone who won't have a panic attack because of the several Astartes that insist on following you around?" You continue, raving and flustered, "Do you think anyone would get near me with you—or—or... maybe Captain Acheran, or the good Chaplain, let's say, breathing over my shoulder?"

"You should be grateful any of us waste our time babysitting you," Cato oafishly shoots back like a petulant child, brows furrowing, "You should be thanking me for doing the brunt of it."

Your nose scrunches up, "Pardon me, Commander, it's surely entirely my fault that we are both at the whims of our Lord Primarch."

He pauses.

Something about this interaction isn't stirring his temper like it should.

He should be absolutely livid with anger, or at the very least blowing your eardrums out with a 'shut the fuck up,' at full Astartesian line-command volume.

Yes, he should be seething, and yet he's not. To his surprise, he's actually feeling more enthused than anything.

This feels... exciting, almost.

"You've only grown the backbone to talk back to me because I fucked one into you," he remarks sharply in reply.

You sputter, and go red, robbed of your words.

"Or maybe this is mere performance," He adds with a sneer, tipping his chin up proudly.

You roll your eyes and let out a dramatic puff of air, "Y-You're such a..." you start, but your voice tapers off—and you look away, pouting.

"I'm a... what?" He taunts, leaning close.

You grumble, apparently feeling brave again; meeting his gaze and puffing yourself up.

"You're a bully," you hiss, clearly upset but undeniably frazzled enough to be somewhat ranting again as you add, "A bully w-who's so disgustingly egotistical you've convinced yourself you're some great conqueror or... something... j-just for having been in me, as if I've never put anything in myself before."

Oh, but wait, Cato likes the idea of that. He likes it so much he completely forgets to acknowledge the insults in your statement prior. He likes the idea of you suffering like he had been—alone, yearning—aching for something you didn't know the dizzying reality of. He can imagine you smothering your sounds, those blessed whines he's got memorised, into a pillow in that cushy little quarters of yours, squirming on your meagre fingers, or maybe cold silicon. You didn't need that lesser imitation now. Cato'd gladly fill that role. He'd gladly fill that hole, too.

Nonetheless, he immediately wonders who you were getting off thinking about.

He'd streak the length of the ship for it to've been him you'd been fucking yourself over.

"Who were you thinking of?"

You blink at the completely offhanded question, then start sputtering, stalling.

"What? I-I—" you stammer, "That's not important or relevant—I just... did it, it's—"

"Keep lying and see where it gets you," He cuts in, raking you with an aggravated frown, and oh, excellent, you're starting to relearn he's not fond of your half-truthing, finally.

You duck your head a little, cringing under his gaze, trying to scoot yourself backwards. But there's nowhere to go.

Cato realises belatedly that in the middle of your antics, the sleeve of your robe has started to fall from your shoulder. His brain short-circuits momentarily with the sheer amount of air that floods his head. Your warm, soft skin on display just for him. He didn't get to see all of you last time. He felt a good portion of you, yes—but he didn't get the chance to admire acknowledge the whole vista. Not because he was too desperate to rut against to try. Or because he was probably going to swoon like a fool if he did. Shut up, he's no coward. Afterall, his hands had been close to your chest, but now—now he can actually look.

He's going to absolutely ruin that lovely canvas you've given him.

"Nobody," you say softly.

"Groxshit," he snaps.

"Fine—" You swallow and start scrambling for a response, "Malum C-Caedo."

Cato genuinely cannot help but bark a laugh at that, "Spare me, you haven't even met the man, moron—you're only saying that because your most recent reading was on his last briefing," he rolls his eyes. "You forgot I was there with Guilliman when you were given it."

You look at him like a cornered little mouse, and finally—finally, your sleeve falls just enough that he's given a perfect view of one of your tits.

"You already..." you grumble softly. "You already know who, then, so I shouldn't even have to dignify this."

"It's me, isn't it?" He asks darkly, and while he tries to sound haughty, the fact he's thrilled by both the notion and the sight of your partial nudity ends up warping his tone into a vaguely manic chuff.

You glance aside and stammer loudly, "N-No."

No, you say—but he hears your little heart flutter. And sees your pupils dilate.

"I hope you're aware you can't lie to save your life," Cato drawls.

Your gaze snaps back to his, and for a brief second, your expression is flushed with embarrassment; until it changes to a sour little scowl.

"I'm not a bad liar, you're just an Astartes—" you start furiously, but check your flustered anger.

Cato smirks.

It's not a completely clean victory, but it's good.

It means his own lusting madness is at least reciprocally vindicated.

And at that realisation, Cato's impulse control violently loses balance; and he's painfully aware he cannot, for the life of him, contain the hungered almost purr-like sound that crawls up his throat.

You go back to looking transfixed at that, and he pauses.

There's something... pulling him in even more than before. He feels as if he's taken the bait, and the hook, and the line and sinker—hell, he's taken a good bit of the rod, too. Everything's a little too heated, and he's got an innate, intuitive feeling you're just as wound up as he is—wait. He breathes in deep and slow, and scents the air. Throne, he may as well have been cold-clocked at the temple by a Dreadnaut for all the innate information he suddenly receives. You're quite frankly drenched in want. You're getting off on this. Smothering him in a dizzying biological chant of hormones that scream—fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

He leans close, and puts a hand on the arm-rest; the other palm slowly moving towards your chest.

Your eyes follow it—but you voice no complaints nor rejections.

Justified now, he's ecstatic. And your skin is as perfect to the touch as he remembers.

His hand looks huge compared to the breast cupped in it, idly toying with the consistency of the flesh in his grasp. It's much softer and malleable than he thought it'd be. Almost like a water-skin. Thumb depressing your right nipple, before drawing a thoughtless circle.

You sigh lightly and relax a bit, and Cato takes that as another open invitation.

He uses the same hand to tug away the fabric from your other shoulder.

Quick as anything, he's practically stuffing his face against you without any real warning, ignoring your flinch at his haste. Cato's letting the urges he'd withheld in that wretched shack out. And it's so worth the wait. He groans, licks a fat band over your left breast, and worries at the perked little bud with his teeth until you're squirming; only to drag his attention up to nip at your fragile throat.

You're breathing hard, and you open your mouth as if about to speak—but ever spiteful, Cato rewards your attempt with the drag of his tongue and the press of his teeth; and that promptly shuts you up. The faint salt on your skin isn't half bad of a thing either, honestly. He rather likes it. It tastes like how you smell—and he's absolutely luxuriating in it. It makes it all the easier to map your chest from the curve of your breast to your collarbones, garnishing you with eager drags of his tongue and mouth-wrought bruises.

And now you're glorious. The marks on your skin are vivid—he's guaranteed you won't be wearing anything showy for a good while. No lovely vile plunging necklines for you to display to bastard dignitaries. Not unless you want to explain why they're Cato Sicarius sized. They'll also be a good reminder to you of exactly who's superior.

You're still too dazed by his efforts to realise the extent of his actions, but he knows exactly how hot and bothered it's made you. That honeyed reek of arousal is driving him insane.

Urged on, he digs a hand down and around your back and drags you off the lounge. Manoeuvring to turn so his back rests against the lip of the lounge, nigh dumping you before him on the rug.

"W-Why...?" You blink, stunned for a second before righting yourself and meeting his eyes. Cato's sat himself cross-legged, before letting them unfold, one tenting and the other splaying out.

"I did all the work last time," he starts impatiently, and leans up to grab you by the forearm; bringing your hand close close to the cradle of his hips, "Now it's your turn to do something for once."

...Cato's not sure you're actually listening, because he could've bet his helm you'd've become irate at that statement if you were. That, and you're glaring between his thighs.

Ironically, he also almost instantaneously finds he doesn't really care to continue the train of thought. Not when you trace the engorged bulge of him through the folds of his tunic. Groping at the base, before smoothing your palm to the rounded tip.

There's no accursed buttons between him and the open this time, thankfully—and that means he can simply tug aside the folds of his layered tunic and bare himself from the belly down.

His cock lays fat and heavy with blood, smearing precum as it moves from his navel to leftward on his hip when he straightens up.

You're staring.

He scoffs at your apprehension and says, "Alternatively, perhaps you can—"

A soft, "Shhh," leaves you.

He snorts like a big, angry stock horse, brow raised. No baseline, regardless of rank, would dare treat Cato like this; none would dare even think to treat to him like this. Except you now, apparently. You forget your station, your place. Making demands of an Astartes is nowhere near your clearance. Your best option is to implore, not command. Yours is to nod your pretty thick head and smile your fair rotten little smile and obey your betters.

"Did—did you just shush me, woman?" Cato's nigh instantly consumed by a rush of anger at the sheer audacity, sneering. "In what reality do you think you've any right to shush me? I'm Commander of the Victrix Honor Guard, Grand Duke of Talassar and High Suzerain of—"

Of... of something.

Suddenly your insolence is inconsequential to him. All that matters is the smooth glide of your dainty hand on his cock, and the sight of your thumb and pointer being unable to wrap around and meet given how thick he is.

You look up at him slowly for a second, before your focus returns to apparently sussing out how best to saddle him. It's a timid gesture, like you're anticipating overstepping—you're cautious.

He's about to remind you of the fact you've taken him before, so Cato's proven he fits and all this coyness of yours is arbitrary. But he guesses the point is moot when you're suddenly already stradling his hips.

With one small hand finding a place on his stomach, and the other holding his cock straight beneath the obscurity of your garbs, he feels you lower yourself enough to make contact; testing before offering a little more urgency.

With an agonisingly careful roll of your pelvis, the head of his cock catches against the soft ring of muscle at your entrance for a second.

He grumbles despite himself.

He can't watch his cock sink into you like last time thanks to the curtain of your robe, but at least he can certainly feel every millimeter of it happening.

Tight heat feels like a death shroud over his mind as he draws a blank on anything else.

And finally—finally he's stuffed down to the hilt—and oh, he's filled you to your end just like the last time. Throne, he's drunk off the spongy heat the thick head of cock is squared right up against.

This position's made your cunt just that bit shorter inside thanks to gravity.

You whimper, clearly trying desperately not to start shaking.

You start shaking anyways.

He's fascinated by the small, restless palms now pressed flat and trying to find a counterpoint on his broad, tunic'd chest. Soft and un-calloused aside from the small bump of a pen's rest on your writing hand. Everything about you is warm and soft. Inside and out, you're all his.

He exhales harshly through his nose and blinks, gaze shifting from your hands to your tits, then to your face.

You wear an even more flushed expression now, overwhelmed, with all your focus on him.

Right where it always should be.

"Hurry up," he grunts sharply.

You swallow hard, and promptly drop your gaze.

You, surprisingly, manage to lift yourself up despite your theatrics. And, little by little, he watches you strain up until just the tip of him is still buried in you.

Angling yourself, you keen, carefully sinking back down on his cock and reeling at the stretch again as you settle, ass meeting his dense quads with a soft plomf.

He can see you biting back a moan, pointless as the act is.

"Keep going," Cato grits out, "I didn't tell you to stop."

You frown halfheartedly, and your insides clench around him despite yourself.

You start a slow rhythm, the noise of colliding skin on skin echoes in his ears. Slick friction, and fucked-out, half-stifled cries. Your pace quickening. Riding him. Using him at your own leisure, like the precious wretched little thing you are. You repeat the same dizzying motion again and again, and again—rising and sinking—up, down, up, down; until it's clear you've found an angle that hits something just right, sending you over the edge with a rattling gasp.

A low groan crawls up the back of Cato's throat and slips free without restraint.

He's barely able to cope through the tight squeeze of your orgasm around his cock; but he steels himself, winning the fight to not spill in you right then and there at that. No small thanks to the furious couple hours he'd spent earlier in the simulated night cycle furiously attending his urges.

His calloused mitt can hardly compete with the nigh painfully silken clench of you. And the view—Throne, to simply watch is a level of spectacle he can't even put into words. It's nothing short of hypnotic seeing your face soften with fucked-out delight—he can't believe he'd ever thought it was good the first time around when he hadn't even seen you meet your end.

You stop suddenly, seated to the hilt, trembling and oversensitive—grinding back and forth, nails digging into his pectorals through his tunic.

"Just... n-need t'catch my breath..." You whimper, and that debauched tone wreaks havoc through his mind. An unceasing urge to pound you to tears overtaking what little sense he has left. It's the ravenous fact that you, the little parchment-pushing temptress, are all tuckered out from cumming on him so quickly. He's preening at the fact he feels that good to you—oh, he's going to send you limping back to your quarters.

He wants to watch you break.

"You lazy little cunt, you can't do a thing right, can you?" Cato groans, your thighs twitching as he lifts you by the hips and makes you sink back down.

He gets the treat of seeing your eyes swim back in your skull, dumb with sensation.

Lulled by the reedy, oversexed moans slipping from you with each motion; and he can't help but start thrusting up, matching pace.

"Hardly even four and a half minutes—and you're a mess, absolutely useless." He heaves, dropping you to full-hilt for a second to manoeuvre you better. You're nigh but a gasping dead-weight, delirious.

If you're going to act the entitled bitch, he'll screw you into something alike submission. Which is exactly why he's then pulling out, shoving you against the lounge on your back; and moving your thighs to bracket his hips as he half kneels on the rug. Just to slide himself back inside, balls-deep in willing flesh. The only dignity he affords you then is the space to wrap your arms around and behind his shoulders. Which you rightly do without demand.

Hold on, was the unspoken order.

Then he's fucking you into the lounge like his life depends on it. He's glad to notice it's bolted down, but the damned thing creaks—nonetheless, he can barely even hear it over the perfect sounds you're making.

Rolling his bottom lip between his teeth, barely holding back the noises that choke his own gullet.

"You're so damn lucky you're a nice tight hole," he rasps harshly, "That's all you're good for, hm? For me to fill?"

There's a gutting sort of beauty in the way you're looking up at him with open desperation. He's trying so hard not to fall victim to the siren call of it, but it's perfect vile and he can't help but fold. He'd kill for that look to never leave your face when your eyes fell on him.

"Fuck, I must be in your womb at this rate—would you like that? My load in your womb?" Cato says between a great lungful of air, only to start huffing madly to himself when you nod drunkenly. "Good, because that's exactly where i-it's going."

Mind reeling with every resounding sticky slap of his balls against you, paired with scorching wet slide of him pumping in and out of you. You're crying, all your sensibilities lost in the thorough pace he's ploughing into you with; trying to pull him in by tugging at his shoulders, but with your meagre strength it's merely a vague suggestion.

Still, he leans into it, if only to finally seize the chance to lap the tears off your cheek, and you sob; trying to turn nose to nose with him. Your pathetic pawing at his broad back only exacerbates the overwhelming urgency in his blood.

He's so close.

Bliss crests up like a tide inside him, building and building, stunned with how it makes him buck into you. He's dazed in a way he surely wasn't designed to be resilient against. He can't even shut his damn mouth to stop moaning—and only technically manages to do so when you cover it with your own the very second he's about to finish; your legs squeezing impotently down on his hips, trembling through another climax.

His nerves light up like an orbital barrage, body rocking against the pretty, willing thing below him that you are. He has no idea what's going on beyond that. Are you kissing him? Is that what you're doing? Half his brain is stunned by the idea and the other half is flooded by the rushes of pleasure in his system making his tendons cramp, ravaging him with the sound of his hearts thudding in his ears.

Working himself right into agony; he's tensing against you as he empties himself as deep as he can. His pace finally breaks pattern and staccatos as his mind leadens.

Lulled by the molten satisfaction that swamps him soon thereafter, Cato blindly tries to chase forward and keep your lips on his. Emphasis on tries. He thinks he likes it, foreign as the sensation and sentiment is. He's got his tongue in your mouth, but no real clue what to do beyond lapping further in like a man dying of thirst—and then, of course, you decide to start weakly thrashing for air, blunt teeth grazing against the invading muscle—so, with a miffed groan; he pulls away, drooling as he slumps front-long against you and the lounge with a rumbling sigh, letting his eyes close as he basks in the afterglow.

You're panting still, nosing against the nape of his neck—likely having difficulty respiring under his weight—but despite that, you're still twitching around his spent cock, just like last time.

Wistfully, he wonders if he could sleep with you stuffed full of him like this. Slotted together and absolutely buried in your cunt; reaming you out as far as your small frame will allow. He enjoys the idea of that, and of holding you close.

He listens meditatively as your breathing steadily evens out, a soft in-out rhythm he can hear start in your chest only to feel warmly dancing across his collarbone a moment later.

Your small hand glides up the back of his trapezoid and combs through the short hair at his crown.

He shivers almost immediately at the act, thoughts clouding. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do, now. He can't really bring himself to do anything. He's locked in. It's like he's been sedated, or scruffed about the neck. Then your fingers trace the bare skin behind his ear, and he snaps from the trance enough to crack an eye open to glance down.

"Don't push your luck," he bites out automatically and leers away.

You immediately stiffen, and lurch yourself back—seemingly completely confused.

He's not exactly sure why he reacted that way either, but he's certainly not going to address it.

Ultimately, he opts to pull his cock out of you with scant decorum rather than linger on the topic. Then he settles into a kneel as he eyes the soaked-in stain below the bunched-up fabric of your robe.

"Well," he snorts.

And damn, it's difficult to hold a straight face at the overdramatic, painfully oblivious pout you shoot him.

So, Cato just continues watching you with a cruel sort of satisfaction as you sit yourself up shakily, and realise the mess.

You blanch, promptly shutting your legs and fussing—your ass is half stuck to the fabric of the lounge by your own slick and his spent when you move to stand on shaky, unsure legs.

He's aware of the fact you're after something to wipe away the aftermath. But he's far too content observing you struggle for the moment. Pleased, even. Especially when he's treated to the cringing gasp that slips from you when his semen no doubt starts dripping down your thighs.

You're panicking within seconds. He can hear your heartbeat quickening, plus the acrid tang of baseline stress hormones pervading the room.

There's nothing to spare. Unless you want to leave another smear across the lounge cushioning, but he doubts you'd go so low. He, however, has no such reservations—and yanks the plush velour padded square up to wipe his cock off. It's not as if he wasn't going to toss it down one of the incinerator shafts on the library's second floor anyways.

"Do—" you begin softly, but amend yourself, "Would y-you have anything... to..."

He stares at you, brows furrowed.

Floundering now, you waddle close and swallow harshly.

"To... wipe this up?" You finish, barely a whisper. He can tell you're sour at the fact you're stroking his ego and essentially too full of him to go anywhere.

Cato scoffs, holding up the seating cushion, "What? Too spoilt to use this?"

You cringe at him, "People have sat on that—hundreds of people, probably. I-I don't have your immunity to infection."

Cato cedes on that point at least, because he assumes being a baseline is hell. And so very not his problem, too.

Completely out of left field, comes the temptation to lick you clean. His mulish hind-brain reasons it's a brilliant idea, namely because you'd likely be squirming for him again. Even if he has no real idea of what to do beyond that. Lap at your clit, probably—he's not actually done any of this before except—well, except just slamming into you. He has the basic gist of all of this from biologis graphics and pornographic motionpicts. Yes, the latter are technically contraband on Ultramarine chapter vessels—Throne, he actually remembers when that was put into force. He was still green behind the ears when that'd happened. But those specific brothers had displayed it for abstract amusement, not... it's intended purpose—rather: 'Lo, look at this curiosity, brothers! See they're fornicating, how very so strange! Baselines am-i-right?'

Honestly, it's never actually anything heretical, except for maybe the terrible acting.

He'd deem that punishable by death.

Regardless, Cato's guessing the process of licking something can't really be some sage art form. Not like duelling, and fuck, he's stellar at that. He's stellar at almost everything, he reasons. So why not that? You're such a wanton little thing he'd probably make you finish on accident.

Yet he decides against it as soon as the logical part of his brain boots back up. Largely given the fact he's probably already going to have a hard time as it is trying to avoid others on his way to mask the stink of sex. His brothers have keen noses, it wouldn't be difficult for them to notice the smell of you on his way to his chamber if he's not careful. Let alone if it's smeared all over his face. Next time, however—

"Surely it's not that bad," he says off-handedly.

A surge of shame appears on your face as a red, blotchy belt across your cheeks, and you seem about to protest before he grumbles.

"Still, you really ought to find a solution," he remarks idly, and he notices the implication isn't lost on you.

You frown softly, and wrinkle your nose at him.

"Maybe some manners would help you achieve your goals," he adds, with a clearer spite.

Your frown grows nigh comically harsh.

Cato grunts wryly, satisfied at your annoyance and paws at the hem of his tunic—tearing a portion off and holding it out to you.

You grab the edge of it and tug, but he doesn't let go.

"And what do you say?"

"Thanks," you answer hastily.

He raises an eyebrow and pulls the torn fabric back towards himself ever so slightly, causing you to over extend closer to him.

His stare stays locked on yours, and he gets the treat of watching you dither and fluster under his focus momentarily before you amend, "T-Thank you..." you swallow, and break eye contact, adding; "Commander Sicarius."

"Was that so hard?" Cato scoffs, especially thrilled as he lets go of the scrap—eyeing you as you trot aside, and gingerly begin to wipe away the mess of satisfaction coating your thighs and rear.

When you're decidedly done, you stomp back over to him and hold out the soiled fabric.

He reaches for it, only to have it promptly pulled away.

Cato scowls, and takes a step forward into your space—only for you to inch forward into his.

You're tormenting him then, he decides; or rather he thinks. He's not sure. You don't look smug—you look... nervous? Your lips have drawn into a thin line and you keep glancing between his eyes and behind him randomly.

"What?" He huffs, narrowing his eyes.

"Lean down," you mumble, then quietly make the additional effort of throwing in a "...please."

Cato grumbles at the request but complies, and Throne, he's glad he does; because suddenly you're up on your tip-toes, your hand on his jaw—and your lips are on his cheek.

He blinks, dumb as a mule. It's over as fast as it started and he can't even begin to unpack the elation he's abruptly feeling.

Heedless of his dazzled state, you clear your throat with a bashful laugh—and then the rag is suddenly stuffed into his open hand. He's still frozen there as you practically rush out the room, scooping your previously flung data-slate up as you frantically wave the door mechanism open and vanish from view.

A long wheeze escapes his throat in the empty room, his face thudding with heat.

Oh, he's fucked fucked.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Cod Characters General Dating Headcanons (part three)

+ Random and Some bits of Chubby Fem S/O Headcanons with mentions of different nationality S/O

+ What type of BF/GF they would be

Including König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Philip Graves (+ some headcanons including the Shadows), Makarov

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Fem terms and pronouns like she/her are used for the reader

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

My rules for requests and characters I can write for

A/n: I tried so hard to get this one out in time with the other but my other wips are getting to me 😭. I posted twice today just to feed y'all ahaha.

Disclaimers/warnings: Typical Cod things, OOC characters???, Unrealistic, Some suggestive themes and language, I'm so sorry but English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Most of the content I've seen are on TikTok and Tumblr I don't actually play the game but I love the characters so much, same with any other content I have for other video games.

Tiny sidenote: the reader in this has been describe to be shorter than the characters and has been mentioned to have a soft body rather than the muscular type.

König

ꕥ (PLEASE DON'T COME AFTER ME, I DON'T KNOW ANY GERMAN AND I'M USING GOOGLE TRANSLATE)

ꕥ Speaking of König, I don't think this man is the shy boy that some people is making him out to be (not that he doesn't have that side at all, I just feel like they make it his whole personality). Based on voice lines alone this man is cocky asf.

ꕥ There's a reason for his mask, yes he was bullied as a child because of his looks and that's one of the causes to his social anxiety but that doesn't mean this mf is shy. He just like to avoid people and social interactions yk. (Y'all have no idea how much I can relate to this)

ꕥ Has and will continue to use his height to his advantage, someone bothering you while you're both sat having a wonderful time together? This mf stands the fuck up, shoulders back, chest out and everything. Looming over that person while glaring down, arms crossed while they're engulfed by the shadow of this 6'10 behemoth of a man.

ꕥ Chubby!Reader? He'll throw you over his shoulders, only using one arm below your ass while he carries you off. Seriously it is no problem to this man, he'd beg you to sit on his face and suffocate him. If anything I'd say he has a preference for it yk, very soft and plush reader for real.

ꕥ Our DIY king here wearing a shirt for a hood, his hair sticking out of the hole for the head whenever he's dressing casual. Play with his hair like right now, you'll make him melt right then and there.

ꕥ Enjoys cuddling, hasn't had many partners and by that I mean kinda none. Nobody was insane enough to approach him till you came around so he's very touch starved. He didn't even know he enjoyed touching that much till he was able to feel the amount of warmth your body gives him. He'd swear on his life that he was intoxicated in that moment.

ꕥ Whenever you sit or straddle on his lap, he's still so fucking tall. I swear you will gain neck pains if you wanna keep eye contact while talking to him. (I understand the struggle, I am a 5'1 girly. Every character I know within the CoD universe is taller than me 😭)

ꕥ Doesn't actually wear his mask around you, he's comfortable and trust you enough to know you wouldn't go around telling everyone what he looks like.

ꕥ Nicknames he'd call you in German are Mein Schatz, Fräulein, Liebling, Engel and Kleine Maus

ꕥ He's still definitely bitter about not being a sniper. (AHAHAHA)

Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin

ꕥ (IF I'M BEING HONEST, I DID NOT EXPECT HIS VOICE TO BE THAT DEEP. ALSO HIS VOICE LINES IN KOREAN/HANGUL (IDK WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT)

ꕥ He has doodles on his tactical gear that he did himself (there are also one that are a tribute to squid game because man's had a gambling addiction), has asked you to draw on it too and he proudly wears it when on duty. Will feel stupid while unconsciously smiling if you draw a heart.

ꕥ Writing something down on his vest from your own mother tongue and he's asking the meaning, if it's genuinely something good like a compliment or something like "I love you" then you will catch this man with a shit eating grin.

ꕥ He used to be a gambler before entering the military and it eventually got him to stop, though he still has a thing for risk, he got himself a more deadlier alternative.

ꕥ Expect surprise back hugs, this man isn't called Horangi for nothing. He's stealthy, I like to think that whatever he says to you is well thought out as well. Man knows how to think before he speaks.

ꕥ Horangi likes to pounce on things, just for the fun of it. It leads him to tackle you on your shared bed a lot, lots of play fighting too.

ꕥ HAS THE PRETTIEST EYES EVER. Like seriously, the only people who knows what he looks like is you and König. Had gentle eyes, you know that quote "His eyes softened", yeah that's the definition of his eyes.

ꕥ Loves it when you trace the veins on his arms with your finger nails, will just straight up offer his arm to you.

Keegan P. Russ

ꕥ This man and his panty dropping voice like holy hell I have never heard a voice as deep as his without a vocal fry (from those try hard guys on TikTok who try to hard thinking their thirst traps are good).

ꕥ Calls you "kid" in an affectionate way? It's honestly just what he calls anyone younger than him, you're shorter? He'll emphasize on that shit. Elaborating on the nickname I said earlier, he uses it less when y'all are dating but still does on some occasions.

ꕥ Would say the most dirty and uncalled for things, whispering it in your ears. He's and asshole in the best way possible, loves it when you gasp and playfully slap his chest.

ꕥ He's sweet though, would see you as his wife even if you're not married. You're his now, the moment you entered his life, he basically had a death grip on you.

ꕥ Something tells me that he likes talking about you or to you through radios yk. His voice sounding even deeper through the device, calling you doll even though he's supposed to refer to you with your call sign.

ꕥ Praise kink? I mean you've more likely heard his voice lines, is the type of man to praise you and ruffle your hair, either that or he'll kiss you depending on what stage of your relationship you are both in.

ꕥ Constantly thinks his eyes are weird even though they aren't, he just has sleepy eyes. Speaking of sleeping, I feel like he has such a fucked up sleeping schedule and is used to pulling all nighters more than the normal person.

ꕥ Will drag you in bed though and lay his whole weight on top of you because you ain't going nowhere, you are staying there with him and only him.

Philip Graves

ꕥ (If it isn't "Fix It Felix", please tell me I'm not the only one who sees it AHAHAHA)

ꕥ Philip is touchy, somebody for the love of everything that is holy cuddle this man please. He is just screaming at any type of physical contact at this point. (My sources? Right fucking here)

ꕥ Is the type of boyfriend to come home to you and just hug you, y'all would be there for a solid 10 minutes before he lets you go. Burying his head into your neck and just inhaling your scent while having his arms wrapped tightly around you.

ꕥ His Shadows? More like his fucking children, again going back to the TikTok. He knows how to get their attention, the little pats on the shoulder and small praises are his way of saying they did a good job and they're eating it up.

ꕥ That being said, you are either gonna be their mother figure or someone they enjoy protecting because their dad is so fond of you. Why not be both right?

ꕥ You cannot tell me this man won't be next to the grill, spatula, tongs or whatever kitchen utensil in one hand and a cold bottle of beer in the other.

ꕥ Spends his weekends with you on his lap while he watches football in your guys' couch, you're definitely scrolling on your phone during this.

ꕥ You cannot tell me this man doesn't wear cowboy hats and boots because he certainly does, is it a turn on or a turn off? I genuinely do not know..

ꕥ Is fruity on some aspects but would never fucking admit it..

Makarov

ꕥ Y'ALL ACTUALLY THOUGHT I'D WRITE FOR THIS MAN? NAH THIS ACC IS WHOLESOME (OR ANGSTY) AND ION THINK THIS MAN IS SALVAGEABLE. (This came from a girl who once was obsessed with Tom Riddle for years when she was 13, I recovered from it dw)

ꕥ This man would literally use anyone and anything as leverage for whatever he wants to achieve. (Yes I am one of those "I can fix him" people but damn idk if this man is fixable)

ꕥ Please don't tell me you actually genuinely think this man would be good to you.. I knew what I was writing was unrealistic but damn y'all are delulu on another level (so am I, stay delulu). Jokes aside I love y'all and he's one of the few I won't write for. (AHEM Severus Snape (that greasy mop haired mf)

ꕥ And yes I understand most of my shit are kind of OOC but damn if I wrote him, it would be extremely fucking far from canon and I don't like romanticizing toxic relationships (if I ever do write it, it will be angst and I can't ever promise a happy ending).

ꕥ Happy April fool's! (I know I'm posting this end of September (it's actually October now 😭)

[satelitis]

꒰ CAN'T GET RID OF ME THAT EASILY ꒱ . . . f reed !

pairing(s) : fulton reed x fem!portman!reader (romantic) , dean portman x sister! reader (platonic)

in which before the game against varsity, the portman siblings have a surprise up their sleeves.

requested : yes or no.

!! content warnings : fluff, yelling, swearing

robin chirps : erm so im out of my writing slump and ziggy and i nonstop talk about tmd and our boyfriends, so i decided to surprise her since she kinda got me out of my writing slumps and introduced me to my bf charlie and one of the most amazing movies of all time <3 ily zigma!! [@spaceagebachelormann]

"your'e playing hard, i'm proud of you guys." coach orion reassured as he patted russ on the shoulder.

"they're cheap shotting us to death!" luis groaned.

"i know they are, i know they are." orion sympathized.

"It's gonna take a miracle for us to hold on." averman replied. little did the ducks know that "miracle" would be a little more unexpected then they thought.

suddenly, the door burst open revealing a tall brunette with a bandana around his head. dean portman.

"dean portman is awarded a full athletic and academic scholarship to the eden hall academy," dean read off his maroon folder. "i found this lying around at home in chicago, my attorny thought i should sign it, and i agreed." he continued. "it's offical boys, im back!" he exclaimed as all the ducks cheered, especially fulton. his heart broke the day that his best friend dean, and the love of his life, y/n had to go back to chicago. he was ecstatic at the sudden appearance of his fellow bash brother. but if dean was here...then where was y/n?

"hey you ass, where'd you go?" a voice spoke in the doorway. fulton could recognize that voice from anywhere. y/n. the voice was further identified when she herself wandered into the room. fulton was beyond shocked, jovial and he felt that he might have a heart attack because of how much was happening. in no time at all, y/n was in fultons arms their lips interlocked.

"did you miss me?" y/n teased, as fulton rolled his eyes, kissing her once again. dean looked partially disgusted.

"what the hell. why didn't i get one?" dean joked, activly trying to piss y/n off. the girl gave her brother the bird as the ducks laughed and watched the cute reunion. russ and averman made jokes in the background and snickered.

"oh, fulton! i missed you so much mwah mwah mwah." averman said in a feminine high pitched voice, as he faked kissing noises. russ continued with the bit presumably as fulton.

"i missed you too, babe." he said also mimicking kissing sounds. the ducks snickered. fulton proceeded to threaten the two.

"will you shut the hell up before i give you pucks for teeth?" he said. averman and russ laughed, as they stopped the bit. fulton turned his attention back to y/n now answering her question. '

"of course i missed you, you were gone for like ever." he exaggerated. but that's what it felt like for the couple.

"the phone calls weren't the same." he frowned softly.

"yeah, 'specially WHEN DEANS BREATHING ON THE OTHER LINE." y/n raises her voice as she turns back to dean.

"why didn't you call me and tell me you were coming?" he asked her,

"cause this was way more fun." she replied, a goofy grin on their faces. "you can't get rid of me that easily." she said.

'i'd hate to intrude on your little love fest but we got a bunch of temperamental man children's asses to kick." russ chimed in.

the ducks all cheered as they made their way on the ice.

"is that dean portman?" the teenage announcer asked. the crowd was in unbelief, "oh and his sister, y/n! they're both back!" he exclaimed.

"who are those kids? they cant play!" tom exclaimed. "they're on scholarship tom, my hands are tied." dean buckley replied.

"so you're the big enforcer, huh? well its nice to meet you, see, we have a lot more in common then you think-" dean rambled.

"shut up." the warrior spat, "lets play hockey," he said.

"whatever you say sunshine," dean shrugged, the game continued as dean ended up making cole go through the glass, shattering it.

dean and fulton cheered as they banged their heads together. "the bash brothers are back and they're here to stay and so is "y/n "the firecracker" portman, as she scores goal one for the ducks!" the announcer called out and boy was fulton beyond happy with it.

[ms--lobotomy]

“How much prep time do you think I’ll need to take on a bear?”

I only have this kind of requests/questions, I’m sorry

-🪿

Hi Anon! Don't be sorry, I love these requests. Mailbox open specifically for you btw

LION EL'JONSON- You need to repeat the question because he just stares at you. "Three." "Three what?" Refuses to elaborate. ???- So busy prepping that they died. FULGRIM- "How much prep time?" he asks. You can tell that he's trying to avoid the question, so you ask it again. "I would rather engage one of my brothers in a duel." Bastard. PERTURABO- "Let me prep instead," he says, mainly because he really wants to build some complex machinery to catch the bear. You refuse, but he helps with the prepping anyways. Gives you no answer on how much time it would take. JAGHATAI KHAN- "A better question would be how much time the bear needs to take on yourself." Knows how often you get up to this bullshit, and knows how you aren't fucking around. LEMAN RUSS- Surprisingly honest in his response, if not completely wrong. Goes into detail on how you could take on a bear, but assumes you are as stupidly powerful as a Primarch. ROGAL DORN- "You are not going to fight a bear." There is an awkward silence between you two before you reveal that you were planning to do it whether he liked it or not. He sighs and overestimates the time you'd need. KONRAD CURZE- Giving the most deranged grin you've ever seen, he says "None." There is blood in his teeth. SANGUINIUS- He puts a gentle hand on your head. "You do not need to prep. I can take care of it for you." You have to explain to him that no, you want this, you crave bear violence. FERRUS MANUS- "It depends on how well you prep," he shrugs. Offers to help build you weaponry for your bear escapades. You are now in posession of a sword as tall as you are. ???- Turned into a bear. Run! ANGRON- "Absolutely none," he grins. Ready to take on a bear at a moment's notice, and if you're close to him, you probably are as well. Glorious melee combat is glorious melee combat, bear or not. ROBOUTE GUILLIMAN- Sighs. "This again?" Thinks for a minute before giving you an honest answer. Offers to provide paperwork to prove that you can take on a bear. MORTARION- Stares at you for a minute before you realize that he's thinking. "I wouldn't do it if I were you, but I know there's no stopping you." Tells you that you need more time than you actually do. MAGNUS THE RED- "What planet do you plan on fighting the bear on?" he asked. "Do you have any methods for doing so?" Needs to know more, more about what you plan on doing before answering. HORUS LUPERCAL- Quirks an eyebrow at you. "You really won't leave these poor animals alone?" he chides lightheartedly. Gives a throwaway answer again. LORGAR- Lectures you on how important bears are to the planet's ecosystem and why it is a bad idea to take on an apex predator in the first place. You ignore him. VULKAN- "You're not taking it on without any help." Forges you some armor that's surprisingly light. Doesn't want you to get hurt in this debacle. CORVUS CORAX- "I don't know, maybe an hour?" When it comes time for you to take on the bear, though, Corvus comes out of the void and scares the bear away. Asshole. ALPHARIUS- "Huh?" May have already begun prepping to fight the bear. May be planning to sic a bear on you. Run.

[lemon-russ]

sorry, I was going to write the Russ fic from the poll but I am being actively haunted by the gay lady Custodian. She must be freed.

Thank you @squishyowl for the divider :)

Emperor's Saint (Pt. 2)

Pt. 1 || Pt. 3

Fem!Custodes x Fem!Reader

CW: GAY, SUPER SAPPHIC GAY

Summary: Diplomat does her job, more gay pining.

Word count: 2,188

You managed to at least get into your slip before Hera returned from her prompt 6 and a half minute walk. After you finish dressing proper in your fine diplomatic gowns, you show Hera your dress with a turn.

“Am I good?” You ask, mostly to make sure you dont have anything amiss or stuck.

She smiles down at you, eyes dragging up and down your body in a way that makes you blush a little.

“Very good.” She agrees after an eyebrow rasing-ly long assessment of your person. She smiles and picks up her spear, then holds the door for you with a playful bow.

“After you, my Lady.” She says sweetly, and you try to shake off the thoughts popping in your mind about the way she's looking at you as you leave.

She draws a lot of attention from the townsfolk, even with her helmet off to reduce her height and flamboyantness, she still was massive and in shining gold armor. She ignores the stares though, checking the area now and then and sometimes walking ahead if you to check allyways before you pass them and the like.

All is done with practice, like it's muscle memory for her. You frown as you have a thought.

“Heraclast, how many charges have you watched over?” You ask. Something bothers you about the thought of her being this close and protective of someone else. Well, not something. You're jealous. But that's a silly thing to be, her whole job is to guard people.

She smiles, falling in step behind you. “You're my third.” She says.

You raise your brow. “I thought it would be more than that.”

She gives a small shrug. “Aquillian sheilds aren't needed very often, and I'm not the only one. Most of the time we're just at the palace, or nowadays out on missions. But we go years without a charge.” She says casually, stepping protectively closer and staring down a man walking by who got a little close to your path for her liking.

You knit your brow as you watch the man nervously beeline to the other side of the road, then look up at her. “So, what happened to your other charges?” You ask.

“They finished what I was sent for them to do. So I left.” She replied, putting a hand on your shoulder to guide you out of the path of a cart. “Please watch your feet and not me, my Lady.” She says with a smirk.

You blush and look back at where you're walking, trying not to get captivated by her face again.

“So, when I do… whatever it is you wont say, you'll go?” You ask, glancing up at her.

She nods. “Though it's not up to me, you know. I don't know what you're meant to do either until you do it and the scriers tell me you're all set.” She says.

You frown a bit, and try to cover it, but are too slow. She laughs gently.

“Was that a pout, my Lady?” She says, grinning as you blush. “Don't worry, sometimes it takes years before I'm called back.” She says warmly.

That was not reassuring. Years. Years of not sleeping alone, not bathing or changing alone, years of constant companionship of the 9 foot tall warrior goddess.

You blush more. On one hand, you don't know if you can survive the embarrassment if you're so flustered after one day.

On the other hand… you steal another glance up at her. From this angle you mostly see her strong jaw, her eyelashes, the quirk of her lips as she passively smiles. Your heartbeat picks up a bit and you tear your eyes away, focusing on the road very hard. Years. Years of this.

Pull yourself together, you chide yourself. You can't become a gay disaster after a single day of being in the proximity of an attractive woman. This is sad even for your standards. You take a deep breath and focus on diplomatic thoughts.

You're here to work out a supply route with the local government. They have precious metals the Imperium needs. It's all very standard fare, and you wonder how you could end up doing something so important the scryers on Terra felt the need to send you a bodyguard to make sure it gets done.

In your thoughts, you trip a little over the cobbled road. Before you even register you've tripped, Hera has you, holding you under your arms again as she places you on your feet.

“Careful there my Lady, these roads are not well paved.” She says, frowning a bit. “I thought you were watching your feet too, and you're flushed again. Are you sure you're well?” She says, bending a bit to look you over.

You sigh. “Yes, just, um, embarrassed I tripped.” You squeak out.

She raised a brow, then nods. “Ohhh, right, blushing. You're not sick, you've just been blushing.” She says like she solved a puzzle, standing upright again and looking pleased with herself. “None of my other charges did that. I'll learn though.” She says as you start walking again.

“No seeing you nude, no watching you sleep, and if your face is all red you're just embarrassed.” She says with a smile, nodding to herself.

You frown and blush harder. “Hera, surely these aren't foreign ideas to you?” You say as you rub a warm cheek with your palm.

She smiles and tilts her head at you. “Well, my other charges didn't care about that stuff. They changed in front of me and stuff, and didn't get all red like that.” She says offhandly.

You raise a brow, then realize what you're missing. “Were your other charges women?” You ask, knitting your brow.

She nods, smiling. “They were. But they said oh it's fine, we're all ladies, you can see me bathe.” She said with a shrug. “I assumed that meant the same for you. I'm learning you're peculiarities though.” She said with a grin before turning her attention back to watching for danger.

Oh by the throne. Her other charges probably didn't like women. You rub your face in both your hands. You actually forgot that some women don't like other women. You let out a long sigh.

“Yeah, I uh, guess I'm a little shy…” you mumble, trying to cover the tracks you've accidentally left leading straight to a giant sign that says “I THINK YOU'RE SO HOT MY BRAIN IS MELTING”. Hopefully she doesn't start putting all the pieces together herself.

She smiles, stepping forward to open the door for you as you reach the meeting building. “I'm getting that about you. I may be out of practice, but I'm not that clueless about mortal emotions.” She chuckles. By the Emperor you hope that's not true.

She puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, urging you to wait while she scouts out the building quickly. You wonder if you can ask her to touch you less, every time she does your brain shorts a little, but dismiss the thought. If she touched you less… well. She'd be touching you less.

She returns to your side and gestures you forward, satisfied it is safe, and leads you to the large meeting hall. She opens the door for you again, and as you walk in the head of trade smiles politely at you, then his face goes a little pale as Heraclast follows you in.

“Ah- good to see you again, my Lady…” the elderly man says, eyes glued on Hera. She nods, puts on her helmet, and goes to stand at the side of the room on guard.

You smile at him nervously. “Oh, don't mind her. She's a bodyguard. The Imperium… insisted I have one all the time now, so it's not personal.” You lie. Easier than explaining scriers saw your future and deemed you important to Terra.

The man nods, still looking unsure, but moves on. You've worked with this man before, and quickly come to an agreement on trade routes and outputs from the planet. You smile and go to shake his hand, and Hera is next to you in an instant, gently moving your hand away.

The man frowns, confused and intimidated by her speed.

“Apologies my Lady, but please do not shake hands. Could be hidden weapons or poisons.” She says, gently moving you backwards from the table by the shoulders.

The man raises his brow and you fluster a bit, “oh- she doesn't mean you- I'm sorry, shes just very protective-” you say, trying to smooth over any offense.

He frowns but nods a bit, looking up at Hera. “Um, well then, a… signature, should do, then…” he says, signing a paper and pushing it over.

You sigh and sign it, and say your goodbyes as you leave with your papers.

You look up at Heraclast with a tight expression. “Please don't do that, you could get me in a lot of trouble.” You tell her.

She frowns. “You cannot get in trouble, I am here to protect you.”

You sigh. “Not- not physically, diplomatically. What you did could be really offensive.” You say with a pleading voice.

She frowns harder. “Ah. Apologies my Lady, but I cannot comprise your safety for manners. Though you are the first diplomatic person I've guarded, so, I shall try and be more clear.”

You rub your temple. “Ok, I'll just… tell them upfront I cant touch for safety concerns, I guess…” you grumble.

She looks conflicted. “You are upset.” She states.

You look up at her, but your frown falters when you meet her eyes. She looks upset, and it makes your heart skip a beat. “Ah- no, it's okay” you say, reaching out and patting her large armored arm. “I'll just warn them, I'm not upset with you.”

She looks unsure, but gives a small nod. “Alright. I'll try to be more… diplomatic about things. But I cannot risk your safety.”

You sigh, nodding. “Alright then.” You say as you make your way back.

She looks at the sun a moment. “It is past 6 hours from your last meal.” She states. You look up at her confused.

She looks down, pursing her lips. “You require a meal every y hours in the daytime.” She says.

“I mean, I guess? I never counted…” you reply, but she is already urging you- which is actually just gently pushing your back- towards a food stall you were walking past.

“Hera, I'm fine, I can eat back at the lodgings-” you protest, but she's already speaking to the vendor.

She drops a pile of currency you had brought with, and thankfully the vendor gives her back most of it, and she returns to you with some sort of pastry, smiling.

You smile and chuckle, reaching for it when she frowns and pulls it away. “Wait- I must taste it for poison.” She says, chomping it.

You sigh. “How would it be poisoned? We didn't plan to stop here, no one could plan that far ahead on a chance.” You say tiredly.

She swallows, then smiles and hands you the bitten bun. “You'd be surprised, my Lady. I've seen murder plots that were set years in advance that subliminally urged people to make seemingly random choices.”

You pout. “…this seems like you just wanted a bite of my food.”

She laughs sweetly, and the sound makes you smile and giggles under your breath.

“You're amusing. I will say you are my most entertaining charge yet.” She chuckles, moving you to a bench nearby. You chuckle too, and bite into the unbitten part of the bun. It's surprisingly tasty, and hopefully not made of anything that causes digestive distress to people from other planets.

She scoots closer to you, so her thigh touches yours, and you nearly choke, coughing as you try to swallow properly. She startles a little and pats your back.

“My Lady-?” She asks urgently, and you wave her off as you catch your breath.

She frowns, studying your face. “Ah.” She says, smiling. “Your face is red again! You are merely embarrassed.” She chuckles. Then scrunches her brow. “I did not do anything but get closer to you for safety though. What has you blushing?” She asks as you gulp down the rest of your bite.

“Um-” you squeak. “It's- It's nothing.” You mumble, rubbing your face.

She frowns. “Hm. That is fine, I will decode you eventually, my Lady.” She says with a sweet smile. “I have excellent pattern recognition, I'm sure in the next month I'll figure you out.” She says happily.

You groan into your hands. Months. Years. You're doomed.

[hunterbunter3000]

° ♡ Masterlist ♡ °

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

(More coming soon!)

Inconsistency is a little cyst on my chest that I can't seem to pop 💀 so please be patient with me!

Main Blog.: Zittles3000 (where I post my art and take commissions!)

°.Reader will always be black and female unless specified.°

~ I only take requests for 141 Sweetheart. Do not send any other requests, they will be deleted. ~

╔ Please be 18 years or older to interact with my writing. Minors and ageless blogs do NOT interact or follow my blog. You will be blocked. ╗

°.Call of Duty.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

All 141 Sweetheart content is in the hashtag.:

#141 sweetheart

A detailed fem!black!reader insert in call of duty modern warfare 2. Basically, all the men are in love with her and I write scenarios about her and answer asks!

Moodboards of Sweetheart ♡ ☆

Fanarts of 141Sweetheart.:

Made by @moth-in-a-mason-jar

Made by @gamersansblog

Boyfriend!au Fic.: (coming soon!)

Where Sweetheart meets and gets a boyfriend.

°.Simon "Ghost" Riley.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

• Ghost Drabble // smut 18+

Ghost has a wet dream about you. // Gn!reader

°.Johnny "Soap" Mactavish.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

• Capitan and Sergeant // smut 18+

Sergeant Soap and Capitan Mactavish have a go at you. // ??reader

(Coming Soon!)

°.Kyle "Gaz" Garrick.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

°.Capitan John Price.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

°.König.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

• König drabble // smut 18+

You're cockwarming König while doing your makeup. // Gn!reader

°.Horangi.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

°.Alex Keller.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

°.Gary "Roach" Sanderson.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

☆.｡.:*　Task Force 141　.｡.:*☆

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

• Aggressive Lovin' // fluff

You show how much you miss your boyfriend. Task Force 141 + König // Gn!reader

• BloodWood.° // reverse harem, action 18+

A new member is added to the Task Force 141 without Price's permission. Weird and mysterious, Callsign "Cedar", the tall mercenary helps the team take down an uprising terrorist group and it's leader, unraveling her past and stealing some hearts along the way. (Coming Soon!)

Tags will be mentioned in each chapter!

Chapters.: Prologue. One. Two. Three.

°.Philip Graves.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

°.Sebastian Krueger.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

• Schrei nach mir, meine kleine Göttin // smut 18+

Krueger finally gets a taste of Sweetheart. Black!fem!reader

Coming soon!

°.Alejandro Vargas.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

°.Rodolfo Parra.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

°.Keegan P. Russ.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

°.One Shots.°

──●◎●──

°.Anime.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

My Hero Academia.:

(None yet)

One Piece.:

• Priest!Sanji // NSFW 18+

Small headcanon/drabble of Priest!Sanji and Baker's daughter!reader // black!fem!reader (coming soon!)

Fairy Tail.:

(None yet)

Trigun.:

(None yet)

Haikyuu.:

(None yet)

Houseki no Kuni.:

(None yet)

°.One Shots.°

──●◎●──

°.Monster Fucking.°

°Tingz.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

◇. Collections of Dynasties .◇

°.CoD modern warfare monster!au.°

──●◎●──

Dragon Dynasty.: Dragon King! John Price

The Allience 18+ smut, fantasy, action

Pairing: Dragon King!Price × Knight!black!fem reader

(Coming soon)

Ogre Dynasty.: Ogre Leader! Johnny Mactavish

Pairing: Ogre Leader!Mactavish × Asassin!black!fem reader

(None yet)

Lycan Dynasty.: Werewolf King! Kyle Garrick

Pairing: Werewolf King!Garrick × WitchDoctor!black!fem reader

(None yet)

Hellish Dynasty.: Demon King! Simon Riley

Pairing: Demon King!Ghost × Human!black!fem reader

(None yet)

°.One Shots.°

──●◎●──

None yet

°.Marvel.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

°.Webcomics.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

True Education.:

(None yet)

Viral Hit.:

(None yet)

Solo Leveling.:

(None yet)

°.Stranger Things.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

°. DC Comics.°

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

My Crazy F**king Ideas.:

I usually get these at night when my imagination goes wild. This will be a mixture of Fandom and my own imagines!

(None yet)

[youstolemyusername1andthat]

A Soldier's home coming

Warning:None only fluff

⭒ A/n: This story and many others I make will be short but maybe some will be long I don't intend to do any smuts right now but maybe will do in the future Thank you for reading this heart ⭒

Sumery: Keegan is coming home to his wife after a long mission.

Keegan Russ had been away on a challenging mission, fighting for his country in the heat of battle. The days were long, and the nights were longer, filled with uncertainty and danger. But today was different. Today, Keegan was coming home.

Y/n, Keegan's wife, had been eagerly awaiting his return. She had missed his warmth, his laughter, and the simple joy of having him by her side. As the day arrived, Y/n found herself pacing nervously around their home, her heart racing with anticipation.

The door creaked open, and there he was, Keegan, standing tall in his military uniform. Y/n's eyes welled up with tears as she rushed into his arms, the relief and joy palpable in the air. The embrace was tight, as if trying to make up for all the time they had spent apart.

"Keegan, you're home," Y/n whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hands, and looked deep into her eyes. "I missed you every single day," he confessed.

Y/n smiled through her tears, "I missed you too, more than words can express."

The couple spent the evening catching up on lost time. They sat on the couch, hands intertwined, sharing stories of the days they had spent apart. Keegan couldn't help but marvel at the little changes in their home, and Y/n couldn't stop smiling, grateful to have her husband back where he belonged.

As the night deepened, Keegan and Y/n found themselves in the quiet comfort of their bedroom. The atmosphere was filled with a mixture of love and relief. Keegan gently brushed a strand of hair away from Y/n's face, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions.

"I love you, Y/n. I couldn't have made it through without knowing you were waiting for me," Keegan whispered.

Y/n smiled, her eyes shining with love. "And I love you, Keegan. Welcome home."

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. All that mattered was the warmth of their embrace, the comfort of being together, and the promise of a new chapter in their lives—one filled with love, laughter, and the joy of being reunited after the trials of war.

And so, in the quiet of the night, Keegan and Y/n found solace in each other's arms, grateful for the simple yet profound happiness of being together once more.

[ghostsbimbo]

the boys & hearing a song from your phone on shuffle a/n: nsfw songs ahead <3 ur welcome. tw: some songs contain heavy subjects such as rape.

simon "ghost" riley - good lookin' by dixon dallas

He's bouncing off my booty cheeks, I love the way he rides I can hardly breathe when he's pumping deep inside I kiss him on his neck and then he kisses on my bussy Call him "Daddy" while I holler Man, that boy so damn good looking (looking, looking)

He has a thousand yard stare as you try to contain your laughter at the song. you love this song, and the artist in general. You originally found him when he was just doing rap, his name being iamjakehill. you completely embraced both the pop punk (ur pretty) project & the country project of his. and now, you're showing your lieutenant one of his very gay masterpieces, despite the artist being a very straight man.

könig - dana dan by bloodywood

Not all men, yes, all men Need all men for what we're solvin' Can't be what it's been but we're evolvin' You see for yourself now get involved in Talking all in, do more, boy, it's a war Chainsaw to the dead weight, leave it raw Bloody galore as we clean out the core Yeah, we do it for her, so we kick in the door

he definitely looked up the lyrics, meaning behind the song, and translation as soon as it was over, and with that he found a new band to listen to. listen, the dude may basically be a war criminal [ they all fuckin are, lets admit it ] but he sure as hell would fucking destroy a rapist as soon as he had the opportunity. all of them would.

john price - i threw glass at my friend's eyes and now I'm on probation by destroy boys

But fuck you! You're so old, dude! Like seriously, what do you think you're doing? Your hands are so big and you're so tall, wow! You know, I kinda wish I had let you do that one thing that one time But in retrospect, it would've been a bad idea 'cause You don't care about me like I care about you so I feel bad

man, this dude felt this song was a personal attack on him. yes, y'all had an age gap, but you needed to assure him he was perfectly fine, and you just liked the song because of trauma prior to meeting him. being a kid/teenager with unmonitered internet access really fucked you up, buddy.

keegan p. russ - chokehold by sleep token [ cover by will ramos ]

So show me that which I cannot see Even if it hurts me Even if I can't sleep Oh, and though we act out of our holy duty to be constantly awake

to say he loved the dudes voice would be an understatement, and then to figure out it was a cover of a song and he heard the original? the man was offended you kept will ramos, his band lorna shore, and the band sleep token from him. his phone would end up being filled with both bands discography.

kyle "gaz" garrick - to the hellfire by lorna shore

Accept this descent into the night Releasing your grasp to induce separation Plunged into the shadows Lost in sensation, we're free falling down into the everblack Can you feel it? These pins and needles

He got scared. He also wondered how you could understand what the guy was saying the whole time. He got VERY confused when the pig squeals started - confused enough to ask if they had a pig in studio. You laughed and explained that no, the vocalist that was screaming - Will - did it all himself. It then lead to you info dumping on the genre of music as a whole.

johnny "soap" mactavish - pisces by JINJER

No promises I ever give Don't rely on me and I won't deceive The beginning or the end you can't tell When I wave my fin and shake my tail I grew in different normality With unblamable morality Hooks and nets are there for me But I'm skittish

The soft voice is what got to him, his eyes going wide when he heard the screaming. He didn't believe you at first when you told him the woman singing was also the one screaming, too. - "No fuckin' way is that a bonnie doin' that." - so you pulled up the song on youtube, and then also pulled up a few live videos of the band, too. He believed you after a few videos, and may have gotten a little jealous when you said she causes you to have a MAJOR gay panic. You also state you wish you had the same amount of talent as her, especially with the screaming.

[nrdmssgs]

💕do you do aus for zhar and nik? ever since i learned, what her callsign stands for, i want a supernatural au with them, please! they are cryptids and you cant tell me otherwise! 💕

Lovie, the short answer is: I have not a single idea, how to make a decent AU. I don't understand, how this whole thing works.

However, a few days ago my friends reminded me of this idea, I had a while ago. Consider this one time promotion, but I present you with a shifters!NikxZhar

Summary: they show each other their inhuman forms. This is somewhere between the first and second chapters of Matters, if you need a timeline, so Zhar already has her call sign, works in Chimera and has burn marks. TW: swearing

Masterlist

Shifting is a very intimate moment. It should be kept to the shifter themselves and maybe their closest family. This is the well respected principle among all the shifters, so even in the Task Force they just wrote, what their 'second faces' were on pieces of paper and left those pieces on the desk, so that each of them could read and remember in silence.

Though, of course, Soap couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Wait, lammer-what? I need to google that thing."

Ghost hissed, gripping Johnny's collar and shaking him vigorously: it was considered inappropriate to comment on others 'second face' - something so personal.

Olga didn't pay any attention - she was happy as long as Nikolai wasn't around, when she had to confess, what exactly she shifts into. Back in that days she didn't trust him even her address. And she couldn't care less for what's his 'second face' was.

That's why now, many years after, she has to guess.

As they walk into the deep forest, both dressed too light for the current weather, as their blood starts running hot in anticipation, she takes a peek at him secretly.

What could this man be?

There are a few factors, that might help to guess shifters 'second face'. First of all - 'second face' would never be a form, originating too far from the place, where the shifter was born. So it is almost impossible to be born for example somewhere around Finland and be shifted into a kangaroo. The next important thing, is that what shifters call 'a second face' is in reality more a second nature - it will affect their preferences in work or their personal traits.

"Any ideas, darling? Wild guesses? If you guess right - I'm the first to show, remember?" Nikolais grin shines in the last rays of dusk and Zhar understands, that her guesses are most likely to be wrong. Otherwise, he wouldn't be so arrogant.

"I need three attempts."

"Take as many as you want, but I'm not that big of a riddle." He stops on the edge of the clearing in the woods and leans against a tall dark pine.

Olga looks around, assessing the place, and turns back to Nikolai. "Ok, my best shot is a magpie or a crow. Someone of the corvidae."

"Because I'm the best pilot, you've ever seen, sokrovishe*?"

"Because you're the smart sneaky scoundrel, willing to steal anything, that is not nailed to the floor... And maybe because of all the flying."

Nik chuckles and shakes his head. "I'm afraid, the sky is my dream in every my form, but never my element. So think bigger."

Zhar tilts her head to the side. "Bigger? A wolf maybe? Statistically speaking, there must be at least one wolf in Prices Task Force and we had none, while I was serving there..."

"O-o-o-oh-h-h-h-h, I adore wolf-shifters. Something in them just makes my heart melt, little lovely puppies... " Nikolai clicks his tongue and leans closer Olga, freezing right above her ear. "But you, little thing, got yourself somebody more... massive, I should say."

"Nik, for fucks sake, I beg you: not a bear," pleads Zhar.

Nikolai looks at her and starts unbuttoning his shirt. Olga opens her mouth, but says nothing and watches him. The moment, that should have become their true bonding, grows so terribly cheesy, that she regrets even agreeing to this all. Not only she has fallen for a Russian guy - she somehow found her self the Russian bear shifter, as if she was aiming for the most cliché man on Earth. Nik breaks the silence with a loud laughter.

"Well, of course, every shifter born in Russia, must be a bear! As if you yourself are the one as well." He tosses his shirt on the bag, they brought with them, cups Zhars face and peppers it with kisses, still laughing. She doesn't react, still looking at him in shock, and he add 'just fucking with you, Nebo, don't you worry'.

"So, I was wrong? Not a bear?"

"No." Nikolai grins and places another kiss, a much longer one on her lips. "Not a bear. But that means, somebody lost and will have to shift first."

His fingers trail down her neck and tug under her sweater. "This will have to go, I guess. Unless I found myself a little mouse-girl..."

Zhar catches his lips: hard to resist him, when her body is boiling with both sides of her nature. Their kiss is full of thirst for each other, hands clutching on clothes, caressing and claiming, their heartbeats grow faster and synchronize. It is much more than a make out session - they open each other up, sharing inhuman warmth, loosing breath in each other. Everything feels much brighter in their state, every touch wakes so much more sensations right now. It feels so good, that Nikolai groans irritated, when Olga break their kiss and whispers 'not here, Nik'.

"Nobody will see you, Nebo. Not a single soul, but me." He tries to bargain for more of her proximity, but Zhar shakes her head.

"You didnt get me. Not here. I need a cliff."

Nikolai freezes. A shadow of concern crosses his gaze. Not every shifter has an equally simple way to change their form. If your 'second face' is a mammal - consider yourself lucky, because you practically can decide, when you shift, because the difference between your two forms is not that big. But in other it takes a great deal of 'motivation' for the shift to happen.

Such shifters often use adrenalin injections to trigger the process, but there are other, more 'traditional' ways.

"You're getting a shot." Nikolai doesn't even ask her - he states a fact. His voice resembles a deep, guttural roar. "This is your first shifting after the injury, I am not letting you do anything careless."

"I've never done this with a shot. Not for a single time! And i'm not starting today." Olga takes off her sweater and unbuckles her belt. They fly to the ground behind Nik. Her usual insecurities and desire to hide her scars are instantly forgotten.

"You are going to get yourself killed!" Nik grabs her arm.

He realizes his mistake too late: shifters get incredibly strong and easily irritated before the change. Zhar yanks her arm out of his grip with such force that she risks dislocating her shoulder joint. He lets her go in fear and she finally turns back.

"You dare to question my 'face'?" Something changes in her voice: it grows raucous, high and strong.

Nikolai takes a step back.

They walk to the cliff in a dead silence. No one breaks it, even when Olga takes off her last bits of clothes.

They stop on a large empty plateau, hanging above the darkening void full of rocks and trees. Zhar stretches her arms and shoulders, when she feels Nikolais hot breath on her back.

"What?" She looks back and meets his gaze: not an angry or menacing, but instead full of care and tenderness.

He walks around her, touches her cheek and kisses her forehead.

"That's all I wanted to let you know, moye Nebo*. I will be right here. Waiting." Niks voice is muffled, if there was any rage in him - he dragged it deep enough to not be shown in any way.

She presses her whole body against his for a moment and sighs. Olga knows, how hard it is for him to let her do, what she is about to do. And yet he strangles his own doubts for her.

Nikolai takes a few steps back, watching her undoing her usual bun. Waves of trembling run down her body, but he knows, that it is not from cold. It is the anticipation.

Zhar closes her eyes, takes a deep breath in and pushes herself ahead from the edge. Her motions are so calm and casual that for a few seconds Nikolai believes that she did not do anything unusual, and throwing herself into a deadly void is not a big deal. And then the chilling realization of what is happening creeps into his soul. His heaven, his beloved girl just jumped off the cliff on his very eyes. He waits for what feels like an eternity, but not a single sound appears in the black seas of tree tops waving on the wind under him. His hands run cold, throat feels dry and soar, heart runs wild. Shifting never takes so much time. Nik stands on the very edge of the plateau and whispers 'come on, come back to me, love, I beg you'.

All of a sudden, a huge black shadow, flies up right before his face so swiftly, that he instinctively covers his face. A magnificent beast of a bird straightenes her wings and lays down on the invisible streams of wind just a few dozens meters above the ground, casting a formidable shadow upon Nik. Cloaked in a tapestry of dusk and dawn, its plumage boasts a palette woven from the shades of twilight - a fusion of russet and amber intermingling with the deep hues of earth and blood.

Nikolai pulls his arm to the side, and calls her to sit on it and give her wings some rest. But she shrieks at him, rising scarlet feathers on her head. Her voice isn't anywhere near soothing bird songs - it is a war cry, a command, that only a fool would dare to disobey. So Nik lowers his hand and nods meekly. In the first minutes after the change, a shifter usually doesn't recognize anyone around. Younger ones need up to a few hours to fully understand, who are they, and what is happening to them.

Nikolai doesn't pressure her into interaction - he just descends to the ground and sits there, letting her circle above him. When she finally lands near him - Nik finally get a chance to see every smallest detail.

It's her eyes, that hypnotize him. They glint like precious gemstones amid the wild expanse, hold a glimmer of some secret knowledge, a silent witness to the untamed symphony of life and death that echo high in the sky.

She leans to the ground, curls up in an unnatural for a bird pose, and Nikolai understands, that she is tired.

"Come here, I'll hold you, my treasure." The bird looks at him attentively for a few long moments and leans her head on his lap.

Shifting back is painful: shivers run through her entire body for a long time after she loses her heathers and bones grow back to a human form. Nik caresses her shoulders and slowly rocks her back and forth to sooth her senses.

When her skin stops running so hot, he wraps her in a blanket they took from home.

"I know, I know: a girl must shift into something sophisticated and pretty. Like a hawk, falcon, or a dove... Not in-"

"You are a work of art. I've never seen anything so majestic. And I've spent quite some time in the skies." Nikolai smiles, looking her in the eyes.

"More majestic than your hellicopter?"

"Just don't tell her." Nikolai winks. "So... a vulture? A magnificent creature. And a fearful one. Dread from the skies."

"Bearded vulture. We look more menacing, than we really are, so don't worry."

"Oh love, you could leave my 'second face' eyeless in a few seconds, if you wanted." At these words of Zhar raises a confused gaze upon him. She wouldn't risk flying low enough to let something 'more massive than a wolf' to catch her.

Nik helps her back into her clothes and carefully kisses her hands, taking in a brief moment of her absolute vulnerability. When she is ready, Nikolai helps her stand and leads her to the nearest tree to lean against.

"You sure, you want to see it today? I can wait as long as you want." He whispers lowly.

"Nikolai, please! I showed you everything, it is only fair-"

"Ok-ok," he chuckles. "Just promise me to be a brave little thing and don't run away. I will be at your feet in any of my forms."

Following him with her gaze, Zhar waits until he disappears far behind the trees and sinks to the ground: the shifting was really hard for her, but she tried to hide it from Nik. Her eyes slowly get used to the dark ambience of the forest, but she notices no movement.

It is only when a few little birds quickly flutter out of the bushes and rush away, Olga finally understands, she is not alone anymore.

The first thing she notices are two eyes, mirroring moonlight. And the height at which these eyes are moving does not bode well for her. He is enormous. His colossal frame emerges from the verdant shadows. A creature of regal splendor, its tawny coat adorned with striking stripes that echoed the forest's secrets.

"Bloody hell..." Her heart skips a beat, and fear courses through her veins. Instinctively, she springs to her feet, pressing her back against the reassuring solidity of the tree. Her pulse quickens, her hand darts to the place, where her holster usually is: a primal response to the raw power embodied in the approaching feline.

The tiger freezes, his giant paw is raised for the next silent step, but remains in the air. He sees, where her hand moved, he undesrtands, what is it, shes seeking. Olga desperately tries to remember, how long ago Nik went away to shift. "10 minutes top. But he's a bloody cat - they need more time to adapt, they are much more wild than us," screams a frightened voice in her head. Before her stands a beast, approximately two hundred kilos of muscles and hunger for blood, and Zhar has nothing to help her escape. She won't even be able to shift once again - she barely stands.

However, to her astonishment, the tiger doesn't bear his teeth or growl menacingly. Instead, he approaches her after the initial pause.

Drawing closer, the tiger halts just a breath away, his golden eyes fixated upon her. But rather than aggression, the tiger displays an unexpected gesture—a subtle tilt of its head, an invitation.

Trepidation mingle with curiosity, and against all instincts, Olga tentatively extends her hand toward the majestic beast, fingers trembling in uncertainty. With tender grace, the tiger nudges his head closer, inviting her touch.

As her fingers brush against the tiger's velvety fur, a thought, not her own, but rather a dictated or a transmitted one, appears somewhere deep in her mind.

"At your feet, love. In any form. Always."

She looks deep into the ferocious predator's eyes and sees the same warmth, she often finds in Nikolais eyes.

Zhar finally gives in to her weariness and sits down, the beast pulls his head closer to her face and sniffs her hair. As gentle as she can, Olga embraces his head and scratches behind his ears. With a rumbling purr akin to a distant thunderstorm, the tiger leans into her touch, seeking more of her attention. Just as Nikolai always does.

sokrovishe - a treasure

nebo - sky/heaven

[kosegruppie]

SKAM Season 3 Epilogue, translated

I had a request for the English translation of the SKAM Season 3 epilogue, which appears in the script, but was never filmed. It takes place the day after the Christmas party, when Isak goes to meet Even's parents for the first time. I have done my best to translate, apologizes for any errors. 😅

SATURDAY 17 DECEMBER AT 17.33

SCENE 1 HALLWAY ISAK and EVEN stand in the hallway outside EVEN's apartment. EVEN smiles: Are you ready? ISAK smiles. I'm ready. EVEN kisses him EVEN: Just a little warning, my mom is pretty intense. ISAK: Okay? EVEN: If it gets too much and you want to leave, just take my hand and squeeze it, ok? ISAK nods: Okay EVEN: Like this EVEN takes ISAK's hand and squeezes it gently but firmly. ISAK smiles: Like this? ISAK takes EVEN's hand and squeezes it really hard.

S2 APARTMENT EVEN opens the door to the apartment (Same picture as in S3 E2) EVEN: Hello? EVEN'S MOTHER looks out of the kitchen, she is a short lady with lots of blond curls and marked smile lines. MOTHER happy: Hi! THE FATHER, a tall man who looks like EVEN only without hair, looks out from the living room. THE FATHER: Hey, welcome IMPROV greeting and enthusiasm, both the MOTHER (SIGRID) and the FATHER (JAN) go right to hug ISAK, EVEN apologizes, says that they are a hugging family, that he should have been warned in advance. ISAK says it's just nice. They are hanging on, THE MOTHER asks if they are hungry. EVEN says they won't have any dinner. SIGRID: Come in then, sit down.

S3: LIVING ROOM EVEN and ISAK sit down on the sofa. THE MOTHER sits down in a chair and studies ISAK with admiring eyes, it looks like she is about to burst with happiness. EVEN gets embarrassed. JAN: Would you like something to drink Isak? A beer? ISAK a little confused: Eh ok, yes, thank you. ISAK looks at EVEN, EVEN smiles SIGRID: Are you sure you don't want anything to eat then? Dad made very good fish soup? EVEN: No thanks, we won't be here for long. SIGRID: No, no, but it doesn't take that long to eat some soup, does it? Where are going, then? EVEN: Nowhere THE FATHER enters the room with beers SIGRID: So it’s not anything you need to get to? EVEN: No, I’m just making sure that Isak is presented to you in small doses at a time, so you don't scare him away. SIGRID laughs: Yes JAN: Sounds good. THE FATHER opens the beers and hands them out. JAN: Cheers, nice to finally meet you, Isak. ISAK: Yes, thank you. Same. Everyone toasts and takes a sip. There is silence for a moment. SIGRID is having a hard time creating a good atmosphere again. SIGRID: Even has told us so many nice things about you. ISAK a little surprised. Oh really? EVEN: Now you're exaggerating, I haven't said that much. SIGRID: No, no, just little things, you also go to Nissen, I understand? ISAK: Yes!

SIGRID: You've been going there ever since first year, haven’t you? ISAK: Yes, but I‘m only in my second year, so SIGRID come on: Yes, that's right, you're 17! ISAK: Yes She glanced anxiously at the beer ISAK is holding and looks over at JAN. ISAK registers the glances, and gets stressed himself, he probably shouldn't have agreed to beer, he thought they knew that he was 17, he didn’t mean to deceive them. EVEN puts his hand on ISAK's. ISAK looks up at EVEN, EVEN smiles calmly. JAN: Did Even tell you that I also went to Nissen? ISAK: No, he didn’t JAN: Yes, Russ ’89 ISAK nods: Cool It gets quiet again. ISAK looks around. The MOTHER wants a good atmosphere SIGRID laughs: It is not so exciting for them to hear about our Russ time ISAK discovers a photo on the wall ISAK: Is that Even? SIGRID looks up and smiles happily: Yeahhh, wasn't he cute? ISAK smiles: Very cute SIGRID suddenly realizes: Do you know what I found the other day?! She gets up. JAN: Yes, it was cool to see it again EVEN a bit unengaged: What did you find? SIGRID: Your old album, wouldn’t it be fun for Isak to see? EVEN: No, mom, it's not fun, this is what I'm talking about, can you please chill, you’re going to scare him away.

EVEN puts his hand on ISAK's SIGRID rummages through a bookshelf: Now you have to give up, no one is scared by childhood photos, are you frightened by childhood photos, Isak? ISAK looks at EVEN and grins before shaking his head. ISAK: Getting startled by childhood photos, I'd really like to see that. SIGRID has found an album: There you go, Isak is certainly not frightened by childhood photos. EVEN sighs, MOTHER plops down next to ISAK and opens a small green album. She flips through the pages and shows: Even with a painted face. Even is Lucia with candles on his head. Even has caught a crab. Even has fallen asleep on the toilet. ISAK laughs charmingly and looks up at EVEN, EVEN rolls his eyes. The mother turns the pages: A young girl has her arms around Even on a sled in the snow. She looks like Even’s mother, only a lot younger. ISAK looks up at SIGRID. ISAK confused: Is that you? SIGRID: It's my little sister, June. ISAK: Ah, you look alike. EVEN: We are very similar. ISAK laughs

ISAK: I meant your mother. ISAK looks at EVEN for a response, but EVEN doesn't laugh, ISAK gets confused, SIGRID tries to smooth it over SIGRID explaining: Even had a very close relationship with his aunt when he was little, they were best friends. EVEN corrects: Soulmates ISAK nods and studies the picture again. June is wearing a huge white bubble jacket. Even's little head sticks up through her arms. He has a blue knitted hat pulled down over his eyes, it almost looks like he is drowning in her. Both smile happily at the camera. ISAK: How old is she? SIGRID: She's probably 21 there, wasn’t it taken a few days before she left us? EVEN annoyed: No, that picture is from my 7th birthday. SIGRID: Yes, that's right, sorry, so a couple of months before that, she died in April. EVEN still annoyed that his mother is imprecise: April 2 SIGRID: Yes. ISAK: Condolences.

EVEN: You don't need to offer condolences, she got better. SIGRID: Thank you, Isak. SIGRID sends EVEN a stern look. EVEN takes in her mother's gaze EVEN: What? Didn’t she get better? SIGRID annoyed: I guess nobody knows, because she's not here to answer that. SIGRID claps the album again and stands up. SIGRID uneasy: Does anyone want a gingerbread cookie? JAN solution-oriented: I'd be happy to have a gingerbread cookie! EVEN annoyed: We gotta go SIGRID doesn't answer, she disappears into the kitchen, EVEN stares after his mother. ISAK looks at EVEN. He puts his hand on EVEN's hand. EVEN turns and looks at him, ISAK smiles calmly. ISAK: We can have a gingerbread cookie? EVEN becomes calm. He nods.

I love, love how much this scene shows about their relationship, how it’s Even trying to comfort Isak, but really it’s Isak comforting Even. 🥺 If you read fic you have probably come across stories involving Even’s Aunt June, who was also bipolar and committed suicide when Even was 7. 💔 This scene is where that information came from. Also, I love seeing Isak in a scene with a happy family, considering how strained his relationship is with his own family. I understand why this scene was never filmed, but I am really thankful we have it in script form. ❤️

[asktaskforce141]

I'm baaaack 🥰 ... with a horny ask 🫢

*slams fist on table*

✨️ Threesome! ✨️

Me and who tonight ? 😮‍💨🥴🩷

- V

Hope you're doing well, lovely admin ☺️🫶🏼

Mein Schatzi, I do not share easily but for you? That little Keegan boy... perhaps. 👀 If it was okay with mein liebling, of course. 😏

- intrigued, König 🇦🇹

I heard my name. 👀👀 Am I being summoned, what am I being summoned fo- OH. Oh, well we'll, how very naughty of you, angel. 😏 But I'm down, as long as tall boy over there agrees to it. M'be so nice to you, little angel.. 😈

- Keegan "The P is Silent" Russ 😎

I am indeed well, thanks! I have a birthday coming up this Saturday, and I get to go bowling and go drink Scottish beer, so I'm stoked. 👀😇

- feeling old af, Admin 🥀

[marinerainbow]

Hey! ^^ I dunno whether your new job is getting easier or not but I figured F/O's can never hurt a situation! XD Either way though, here! Have some of your F/O's finding out about/asking about your OC's ! ^^

~

Imagine Audrey II humming over the phone he stole right out of your hands while you were messaging a friend, scrolling through the messages about some funky little weasels and bunny rabbit~ "Oooh, these are some snazzy characters, here, sweetheart! I especially like that filly, Shiny! She's got something, huh? Heheh." You try to grab it back, though you're feeling a sense of pride and warmth hearing the loud-mouthed plant compliment your creations in a way thats so genuinly them, but they raise their vines quick before you can reach it. "Uh uh uh, not so fast cupcake~~ There's more to find out about what goes on in that sweet little head of yours, isnt there, hmm? Heheheh."

(I don't know how Audrey II reads without eyes but he does okay 😅😅😅)

Imagine Harper squinting at your phone and holding it far away from his face, using one hand to hold it and one finger on the other hand to scroll on the futuristic device. He's definitely not used to technology but you sure love watching him use it like a grandpa- even looking as young as he does. It's very amusing. So you don't mind letting him play with it for a whole, around an hour, until he finally drops his arm and the phone to his side and flashes you one of those devastating southern grins. "Well, sweetheart, you sure are talented with the writin'. And those characters a' yours... I am intrigued. I have some questions for ya. Mind if we take a walk?? I could use some time in the great outdoors after playin with your lil device, here."

Imagine how the Hessian's eyes always linger on that commission of the rabbit in your room anytime he's there. He's always wanting to ask; questions boiling inside him about this unfamiliar Thing that seems to be something important to you. Something he doesn't understand but feels he needs to- just doesn't know how to ask. He's fascinated by you, and and there always seems to be something new. But that rabbit, that always seems to catch his eye.

Imagine Russ, zeroing in on Poppy immediately and tapping a commission of her with two fingerless-glove-clad digits; a broad grin spread across his face so that his perfect white teeth graze his bottom lip. "Ooooooooh, this one's cute! Reminds me of someone else sweet as sugar I know~ " He winks down at you, the smirk not budging. "You know who I mean, babygirl??... "

Imagine Scroop overhearing you telling a friend about your OC's, namely a 'Shiny'. You don't notice him standing tall in a dark corner until your friend leaves again and he creeps out on all those spidery legs and with a low hiss. "Shhhhhhhiny, huh??... who's that?... sounds fun." After you tell him a little bit about Shiny, touching on Poppy as well and explains that you have more too, Scroop's got a tiny little smirk stretching at the corners of his bug-mouth; his eyes alight with a fiery interest just for you and what goes in on your head. "... tell me more."

Imagine Tiffany snooping through your laptop when you go to take a shower and leave it open. What? Her ex husband was Chucky; she's learnt to be... uh... shall we say, cautious? Anyway, she's quick to check the important stuff, like email and such, but after deciding that you were good- she thought to peak at your open tabs. One was tumblr, and there was all sorts of interesting stuff on there! Her little sweet thing sure was creative!! Poppy was adorable, just like you. And Shiny was such a kick!- just like herself. Popshine was right up her alley~~ When you got back, Tiffany was reading through your fics with a glass of wine in her hand and a delicious cup of coffee for you, and she pats the the cushion next to her on the couch. "C'mere, babygirl! This stuff is out of this world! You really have a writers brain- gosh, that's so sexy. Let's read together for a while!- ooh, did you use the shampoo I got you? Smells as sweet as you look!~"

Omggggg I love this! But I'm also getting embarrassed at the thought too; these guys are reading my stuff??? My self-indulgent dumb stuff??? They read our conversations???? I... How am I going to live through this?? They weren't supposed to find out! 😅 But they LIKE Poppy and Shiny??? They like my writing???

Oh my lord, this is going to be on my mind all day AT WORK now. I don't know what I'm gonna do or how I'm gonna respond to thus. But thank you so much for this ask! I truly brightened my mood ^^

(Girl, Audrey II choreographed a whole musical number with no legs, figured out how to use a payphone, and knows where to grab prey. And you're questioning how they can read with no eyes? XDDDD what I'm wondering is how the heck did me and my friend not at all noticed the spider psycho in the corner trying to be Inkubus-)

[asyamill0222]

Oh, hi everyone! This is my blog where I will share with you my little fanfics about Keegan. At the moment, this is one of my works (don't judge too harshly)

My Soldier🫡❣️ (1 part)

An American military base located on the outskirts of the city, under heavy guard by the best of the best. In the center of the area there is a bright, two-story building, decorated with white and blue tiles. Large windows attracted the view, and numerous Military personnel were in a hurry in all directions. There was complete chaos going on in the area. The commanding voice of one Military man who, waving his arms, indicates what to do, another with the words “Yes, sir!” completes the task. He is clearly just a trainee, and he is far from the elite and he knows it. So he tries his best. A young girl, having just graduated from the University, somehow miraculously ended up at the invitation of her Uncle Admiral in the Military Unit. She couldn't refuse such an opportunity. And after passing the exam, she was undoubtedly accepted. The girl is tall, about 175 centimeters exactly, dark wavy hair just below her shoulders, and her eyes.. The eyes are something with something. Otherwise it would be called heterochromia. For one eye is sky blue, like the clearest ocean in the world. And the second is brown, like the freshest coffee, to which no milk has been added, gently pink lips, a straight nose and beautiful facial features. The Girl herself is no more than 25 but no less than 20, about 23 years old. On the one hand, she is thin and slender. On the other hand, strong and independent. It is with her strong, slightly inflated physique that the Girl catches the eyes of Men. However, the Lady does not seem to pay attention to this.

Going inside the building, where men in uniform were walking around everywhere. Jenna, finding a familiar silhouette in the crowd, smiled warmly and headed towards the outline. Coming closer, the young lady put her hand on the shoulder of a middle-aged man. By his appearance you can tell that it’s time for the Man to retire, but he’s still a lively guy. The man turned around and smiled joyfully......

------- Jenna! Glad to see you, dear!

The Man said enough and embraced the Girl in a light embrace.....

-------- And I'm glad to see you Uncle Walter!

The young lady hugged the man.....

-------- Glad that you will now become part of our Military team. I'm sure you'll like it here, especially since there are a lot of different guys here. Maybe you'll find someone for yourself.

The man playfully pushed Jenna on the shoulder, the Lady rolled her eyes a little and sighed heavily.......

-------- Uncle Walter, I will work here. I'm not looking for a betrothed.

-------- OK I understood. I won’t get too ahead of myself, but for good service I can send you somewhere else. Wherever you want!

--------- This is great news, Uncle!

--------- But I told you this in confidence. So let's forget. And let's go meet your colleagues.

--------- Are there any Girls there besides me?

--------- Of course not. Girls prefer to sit and wait near the fireplace in their house for Guys than to go serve. That's why you're one of the Girls in this squad.

The man patted Jenna on the shoulder and grinned. The girl clearly appreciated such humor. Later, coming outside, the Admiral pointed to a seemingly small boxing ring. Where training was carried out with 5 soldiers who were eager to kick each other's ass. The young lady examined the tactics of the maneuver with interest, clearly immersed in her thoughts. Five muscular, stunning men who just touched your soul......

------- Watch attentively.

The Man ordered and pointed to one of the soldiers.......

-------- This is Logan Walker. Son of Elias Walker and younger brother of David "Hash" Walker. When he passed all the tests on the battlefield, he became a member of the Ghost Squad after being rescued by Elias and the Ghost Squad itself. He is the right hand man of Keegan Russ. He is now 31 years old.

The man rubbed her chin and again pointed at one of the soldiers.....

--------- Keegan Russ, fighter of the "Ghosts" squad. He is the team's sniper. He is just as fluent in bilingualism as Logan. He is currently the captain of their team. He loves to be obeyed and does not tolerate obedience. Performed many successful operations. Moreover, despite his leadership, he is quite silent. And older than his operatives, he is 33 years old.

Jenna nodded understandingly, but in her head she was developing a plan on how to get Keegan to talk.......

--------David "Hash" Walker. Older brother of Logan Walker and son of Elias Walker. We have a whole dynasty of this family in our squad. Since he is older, he is 32 years old.

--------- Thomas Merrick. Or just Merrick. Another soldier of the Ghosts team.

--------- Why "Ghosts"?

The Young Lady asked.....

--------- Because they have stealth and incredible tactics. You will be with them.

-------- What?? Why??

Jenna said indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest.....

--------- You have been assigned here, remember, for your good service, I will send you somewhere else. Be patient a little and try to find a common language with the Guys. Especially with Keegan. He doesn't like it when there are girls in his room.

The young lady hissed in annoyance, because it would be difficult for her. Later the Admiral shouted and the Guys looked at the Man. He showed a gesture, and the Soldiers abandoned training and headed towards him. The girl froze in place, because she was not ready for this........

------- Meet the fighters, now this is your colleague. Jenna Anderson, recently graduated from the University and I hope you get along.

The man looked at Keegan, who was not particularly happy with Jenna. However, the Young Lady managed to discern feelings of Hatred and lack of trust in her light blue eyes through the mask. Which made the Lady feel uneasy. The man patted the Girl on the shoulder and smiled warmly. And then he soon disappeared from sight. Jenna sighed with relief, but a shiver ran through her body when one of the Guys approached her and bent over a little......

-------- So these are lenses? Or one of the regular operations to change eye color?

Merrick asked, looking into the Young Lady’s eyes.....

------- This is heterochromia.

The Girl answered in a calm voice. While inside her the world was falling away under her feet from the dark eyes of men.......

--------- OK. Listen, this is not a resort and the concept of “weekend” does not exist. Here we serve, and we don’t give any favors to anyone. The main thing is, try not to get in the way and not get into trouble. Today you are here, and tomorrow you are gone. It’s unlikely that anyone will come to help, so you don’t have to hope. Have you expressed yourself clearly enough?

------- Extremely.

Jenna said calmly, crossing her arms......

------- Great, then now we'll go to warm up. A short cross-country run around the stadium, then rope crawling, then push-ups. All clear?

---------- Yes sir.

---------- That's great, try to keep up.

The young lady nodded positively. The guy grinned, and then everyone followed Keegan. Having reached the stadium on the territory, the Blue-Eyed Guy commanded, and the group ran lightly after the Commander. They ran like this for about 2 hours, and Jenna was tired of running because she was already exhausted, but she didn’t want to give up. Having finally finished her run, the Girl was able to rest by collapsing straight onto the asphalt. A few guys chuckled a little. And then they helped Baryashna get up from the cold asphalt.......

------- This is not a recreation center or a resort. Here they test your strength. And they decide whether you can participate in the Battle. So get your act together. We have a lot to do.

Jenna just nodded at Logan’s words and, gathering her strength, continued her training. So the Girl spent the whole day with the Guys. And late in the evening, having said goodbye to everyone, the Young Lady headed to her room in the building. Going inside, Jenna sighed with relief. My legs and arms hurt terribly after training. The lady approached the bed and collapsed tiredly onto it. So an hour passed, two, three. But sleep never came to the Girl. Tossing and turning in bed, Jenna was completely lost in herself. And she knows what she is thinking about, or rather about whom. And those light blue eyes that never gave me peace. Amazing physique.

- But why?! – the Lady hissed indignantly, hitting her head on the pillow. - What’s wrong?! – the fidgeting on the bed was already starting to irritate you quite a bit. Getting out of bed, She went to the table and poured cool water from the jug. Having come to her senses a little and calmed down her irritation, she began to run circles around the room. It was 2:30 on the clock. Giving up on sleep, you changed clothes and headed to the gym. Jenna decided that training would be better than suffering due to insomnia. Too much time and effort was spent to become the best, but I understood that you could not become better than your current colleagues, and especially better than the captain and part-time your patron in the squad. Always look up to him, always take an example. Today's sparring showed that the Young Lady's efforts were not in vain, although if you had not been distracted by one man who was extremely interesting to you, everything would have turned out much better.

“Keegan fucking Russ..!”

All the captain’s instructions fell on deaf ears, all the teams drowned in the pool of blue eyes, as soon as you met his gaze. You were literally stuck. It's a pity that nothing can work out for them. The only thing that binds you is work. And with her, feelings are a loss.

“Fuck!”

Approaching closer to the entrance to the gym, the Lady realized that there was someone there. Having opened the doors slightly, you froze at what you saw - Keegan himself was pounding the punching bag as hard as he could.

The gaze slid over his tense body - in the dim light of the fluorescent lamps he was fucking Apollo.

≤ You fucking...! ≥

Walking behind the man, for some reason the Girl really didn’t want to make any sounds - he was pounding the pear too desperately. She went to the table and began wrapping special protective bandages around her hands, and from under half-lowered eyelashes she continued to watch this perfect man. It became increasingly difficult to maintain composure. There was silence in the hall - the sounds of blows stopped. The man turned around sharply and froze - your eyes met. And it seems you heard the gnashing of his teeth........

- How long have you been here? Russ was the first to break the silence.

His hoarse, low voice sent shivers down my spine and my body trembled.

[leffee]

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the quiet suburban street where Vinnie and Russell lived. Vinnie, his hair tousled and his grin mischievous, leaned against his beat-up old sedan, a relic from his high school days that still somehow managed to roar to life whenever he turned the key.

"Hey, Russell, buddy," Vinnie called out as Russell approached, "you ready for a ride?"

Russell eyed the car warily, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. He knew all too well about Vinnie's daredevil driving antics. "Uh, where are we going?" he asked cautiously.

Vinnie's grin widened as he revved the engine, the sound echoing through the quiet street. "To the party, of course! But I'm driving. You cool with that?"

Russell hesitated, his mind flashing with images of Vinnie's reckless maneuvers and near misses. "I don't know, Vinnie. Your driving style... it's a bit... um, extra."

Vinnie waved off Russell's concern with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "Come on, Russ, live a little! Trust me, it'll be a blast."

Reluctantly, Russell slid into the passenger seat, buckling up tightly as Vinnie took the wheel. As they pulled out onto the road, Vinnie's whoops of excitement filled the air, but Russell couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom.

With each daring maneuver, Russell's knuckles turned white from gripping the door handle so tightly, his gaze fixed on the road ahead with a mixture of fear and anticipation. As they sped towards their destination, Russell couldn't help but wonder if they'd make it there in one piece.

Miraculously, they arrived at the party in one piece, though Russell stumbled out of the car, his legs feeling like jelly from the adrenaline rush. Penny Long, a friend from their circle, approached with a concerned expression.

"Russell, are you okay?" Penny asked, her brow furrowed in worry. "You look as white as a ghost."

Russell managed a weak smile, still reeling from the wild ride. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... not used to Vinnie's driving, that's all."

Vinnie, unfazed by Russell's pale complexion, swaggered over with a grin. "What can I say? I like to keep things interesting."

As the party roared on around them, Russell couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Despite the heart-stopping journey, he knew one thing for sure – with Vinnie by his side, life would always be an adventure…

I know that "Penny Long" is a typo, but it's still really funny xD I mean, she is tall, so I suppose vertically long. Yes, makes total sense

And I know they arrived at a real party, but I can't stop thinking that after saying that they're "going to a party" Vinnie actually drives them to a supermarket or something, so Russell is just "???" and Vinnie explains that he never said what kinda party he meant, and this time he meant a snack party or whatever and when Russell asks "whyyy?" Vinnie simply replies with "hungy". Yup, again, makes total sense

"Come on, Russ, live a little!" He said, knowing that lethal car accidents are a thing, oop. That's why I keep my Vinnie and Pepper as decent drivers, cause I know that it fits their character and all, but come on, driving recklessly can genuinely kill a person, kill them, so they're not gonna do it. Let me tell you if I drove in a car with someone like that I would fuccing slap them across the face once we would have stopped 😀👍

Anyway, going with this scenario, I can't help but imagine that once they get out of the car, Russell is just so pale, trembling and simply faints once he's out. Vinnie just kicks him lightly with his foot like "Rusty? U ok? Get up, man, it wasn't that bad."

"he knew one thing for sure – with Vinnie by his side, life would always be an adventure…" Nah mate, you're just in love with him! Belive me, I am too, so I know what it looks and feels like :^)