#a hint of soap x ghost

[walterdoodles]

Sleepover 😍 my boyfriend asked me to draw this!

[poetslastdeath]

john and higher ranking reader (i don’t specify the current day rank but it’s very much implied to be higher than his)

heavy hints of dom reader, fem leaning reader this time (couldn’t choose so i flipped a coin and went with fem), cute and short

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reader and john who have known each other since you were just recruits, both grown from hyper soldiers with stars in your eyes to stoic war hardened soliders with more scars than freckles, have known the deafening sound of gunshots longer than you knew compassion.

his youth died years after yours did, you were already a lieutenant then being looked up at by a fumbling yet smooth sergeant price. always a step behind you, always filling the silent air between you too, unrelenting and bright as a dying sun. you wanted to protect that, hold it close, hold and cradle that fire for a little longer until the winds picked up and blew it all away.

it did either way, you watched then left.

better to let him sit alone then look far too close at you, at everything you’ve done, at how you could so easily hurt him but didn’t it every time. look at that stupid thing foolishly named love.

the twin old decaying thing is your chests, some may call it innocence but one far wiser than anyone should be would call it humanity. so you drifted, climbed the ranks, making it farther than a younger you could have guessed. you and john met sparsely after that.

however something always lingered, something else between you two though it only actually played out a few times when it boiled over, usually his poor knees took the brunt of those encounters. some could call it love or lust or they could call it two far too damaged people who cave into each other like waves crashing against rocks. calloused hand in calloused hand.

john, who gets himself into trouble— on the way over you can only sigh without surprise, he was hotheaded in his twenties but now he’s as slow and burning as molten lava— and has to call in a favor to bail him and his team out.

and when you walk in, you’re the only one that notices his slight stutter of breath, chest aching with heavy lingering smoke. it’s like the gravity around you pulls, the world twisting to meet your every step, and eyes are snapped over to you and held like they can do nothing else.

then that’s when the 141 boys know the now slightly deflated shepherd and graves stand no chance.

and they don’t, they fold because they can do nothing against the raspy honey of your voice, it’s allure sounding like a spiders web, thinly veiled poison dripping from cracked lips.

it doesn’t take long, not when you tilt your head as shepherd freezes so still he looks like a statue when you start naming dates and times. insignificant to anyone else, but you know. he knows. anyone could see the threats laid like bear traps behind your words.

and with a fake barely there smile, shepherd and his mutt leave with the slamming of the door.

it’s tense, not quite as tense as when shepherd was in the room, but it’s still like the rest of them don’t quite know what to do with you now, turning to look at their captain then at their lieutenant when john’s eyes are locked on the side of your head.

you look over, meeting his gaze with heavy unreadable eyes, knowing far too well now that keeping emotions in your eyes is the fastest way to having someone kill the light in them.

“thank you, love.” he rasps, you raise an eyebrow and he pauses. glancing away to consider his next steps from here.

“ma’am. thank you, ma’am” he corrects smoothly like he had never said anything else, so naturally that it makes you want to hear his low rough tone whisper it on repeat until he can’t speak.

you nod, eyes flickering over to his team. “hm, pleasure to help.”

they shift, uncomfortable and clearing untrusting of your heavy calculating stare. though you hardly mean to, by now it’s hard to help yourself from making observations almost idly, like how the one you know is “ghost” stands far closer with one of the men then the other one.

you look away from them and back over at john, you shift your weight from one foot to the other and turn in his direction. he follows every movement carefully with shadowed deep eyes.

“i’m done here. you can clear up your own mess, can’t you?” you hear one of his boys shuffle before a hand is placed on his arm in a tight grip, like he was seconds away yelling. you pay no mind to it, far to busy for a puppy’s biting at your ankle.

“i’ll send you a gift.” you pause, watching john again. “a little something about shepherd so his leash should shorten.”

he exhales, careful and slow. you don’t quite know what he’s thinking, no matter how good you’ve gotten he’s also improved.

“thank you, ma’am” he repeats, tilting his head forward. you smile, walking forward, glancing at the clock behind him.

you mumble, “hm, call me if you need me further.”

and when you pass him, you lean over to whisper in his ear, words carefully crafted just for him. “oh and if you want something, then ask for it, baby.”

his shaky exhale tells you everyone you need to know. the door shutting behind you is perfectly timed with his mind sliding back into captain mode.

it’s a pity, he’s far prettier when he isn’t in control.

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

Soap has a box that sits under his bunk and stays locked at all times. Everyone’s seen it at one point or another but nobody actually knows what’s inside and so they’ve all got their bets on what could be in it.

Gaz said there was a bunch of porn mags in it and got so severely judged for it that he considered changing his bet, but nobody would let him do so.

Price bet that it was family stuff. Pictures, heirlooms maybe some trinkets or what have you from family members (eg. a hair clip from his sister, a cigar from his dad, etc.)

Alejandro said it was different bottles of booze he had picked up from missions, reasoning the man was Scottish so it would make sense.

Rudy had gone the opposite direction and said it was food cause they all knew how much of a foodie Soap was and how severely pissed he got when any of them took his food form the common rooms.

Ghost had shrugged and said it was filled with his old journals since he knew Soap worked through them so fast, and he had never seen what Soap did with old ones anyway.

Soap knows about the bet and he refuses to tell any of them what’s in the box, always deflecting and shrugging whenever he’s asked about it. Because it’s his box of secrets and for once, he doesn’t want to share it with anyone else.

While him not telling is in part due to his own embarrassment it’s also because the box is filled with what the others would consider trash, but they’re special things to him.

It’s filled with trinkets and little bits and bobs from his team members. Different things they picked up during a mission and gave to him or something he had picked up to remember a particular mission for whatever reason.

There’s pretty rocks from Gaz that caught his eye and he just brought with him. They always end up with Soap cause the other man just leaves them in his pockets and forgets about them.

Price gives him snacks and foods from the regions he’s gone on a mission to and Soap keeps the packaging. Cleans it out and keeps them cause he’s a bit of a hoarder like that.

He’s got bullet casings and beer cap lids from missions and nights out with Rudy and Alejandro. No two beer caps are the same cause the two like giving him different alcohols to try and the bullet casings are from the last bullet that ended a mission.

Ghost gives him little vials filled with dirt and he always claims that it’s only because he had picked up too much to fit in his mason jars but Soap knows he does it on purpose. He knows that Ghost picks up his dirt jars and thinks of Soap and getting him some and it’s so heart touching.

It’s also got photos of the team from the ends of missions or night outs and some sketches that he considers too private to leave in his journals. Nothing erotic or anything but things that show the softer moments of their lives or, on occasion, Simon’s face.

So yeah, maybe it is filled with trash and useless crap but it’s his and he doesn’t find any of it to be useless. He loves his little box of trinkets that remind him of times with his team mates, it’s a home away from home for him.

[mockerycrow]

thinking about 141 x chubby!reader or plus size!reader. i know these men would go fucking feral.

[awkward-fink]

It is the middle of the night, moon having risen to its zenith, shining its cold white light through the glass of your window, illuminating the small glass globe with a night sky depicted in it. You couldn’t sleep. Something kept you awake, kept you from closing your eyes for more than a few minutes. Your body can’t relax. The day had been stressful, and it had frayed your nerves. You needed something to relax yourself, something to get rid of all the stress and pressure. Training always helped you the most, the working of your muscles, sweat dripping down your brow and neck, the loosening of muscles.

This was exactly what you needed.

The way to the training rooms is not far, it’s only out of the barracks and once over the outside sport track to the hall. And the door to the training rooms is thankfully always open, for when other soldiers and coworkers have shift change and need some exercise. So, it’s not surprising that the door to the rooms is open, green light shining at the side of the number pad lock at the side of the main door. A main door that is already a bit opened, letting a shine of yellow and whitish light out into the night, illuminating your path.

What is surprising is the sound that has you stopping in your tracks. Your hand is outstretched to open the door fully, your fingers brushing the edge of the door, your foot lifted to take the next step, lips parted to call out a greeting to whoever is inside, when you freeze.

The sound reaching your ears is a deep and low moan, echoing through the training room and outside. And it doesn’t stay with one, its followed by another, longer and louder moan and the sounds of a hand slapping the training mats repeatedly.

You creep closer, can’t help yourself, can’t help the curiosity eating you, wanting to know who is making this sounds. And what you see, has your eyes widen and your teeth sinking into the meat of your palm to stay quiet.

You can see two of your coworkers, two of the Taskforce under Captain Price. You know them by the names of Ghost and Soap, a duo of men that are barely apart for a longer length of time for as long as you are on base now. And you hadn’t given the rumors much thought, but, by everything holy, this… - This!

Ghost is standing on top of the training mat, his back towards you, slightly leaned over, his legs spread out for a firmer stance. His pants are hanging low on his hip, lopsided and barely covering his ass as his boxershorts is also pulled down slightly and in an angle, indicating that its probably lower in front than what you can see. There is sweat glistening at the small of his back and you can hear him grunting. One of his hands is out of view but the other -

“Oh God! Dinnae pull it oot." -the other is holding up a hairy leg belonging to the Scotsman laying on the mat from what you can see in between Ghosts spread legs. Soaps foot is pressing into Ghost’s hand, the other naked and bare leg hooked around the Lieutenants hip tightly. Soap is only laying with his upper body on the mat, his hands scrambling over the rough surface as he curses, searching for something to hold on to, his lower body is up and probably against the hips of Ghost, you think. A pile of cloth, unidentifiable for you, lays beside the mat, but the Scottish flag can be seen on the cloth.

“English, MacTavish.” Ghost growls lowly, his hand holding the foot changing its grip to pull the other man even closer, his hips pressing forwards as Soap moans out aloud again, eyes closed, and head thrown backwards onto the mat. "Ye're splitten me apart!" the Scotsman groans, hips bucking, his legs twitching. “Push against me, just a little bit more, you can take it, can’t you?” Ghost growls, head tilting to the side, mask slightly rolling upwards to show the sweat slick side of his neck in the overhead lights.

“Good lad, just a bit more, trust me, you can take it, its not the first time.” Soap’s mouth falls open, a heavy and lewd sounding moan falling from his glistening lips. "God, it feels amazing, dinnae hold back!" – „Never.“

You can’t help the whimper as you watch Ghosts hips twitch forward and the sudden moan of the Scot has you blushing furiously. You can’t watch this! You shouldn’t be watching this!

With a soft mewl, hidden under another of the Scotsman’s curses and groans, you suddenly turn and run. A cold shower would do you wonders now! You won’t be able to look them into the eyes in the coming days! ------------------------------------------

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Extra: “I told you to stretch before the workout, you Idiot.” "Ah reckoned Ah wis supple enough fur a wee bit o' exercise wi ye." “Entglish, Soap.” “…. Noted and not doing this again, my leg is killing me.” “Eat more bananas, helps with the cramps.”

[tassodelmiele]

Noisy little mess

Hi sweetie ⁓

Here we are, it's finally monday and we can hope again in having a good, productive week (please let it be a sunny one too I can't hibernate in April I need my photosynthesis).

I'm wondering what do you think of this little work of mine, so if you feel like it you can write me whatever comment/question/any various and possible magical shit.

Have a good chocolaty day ⁓

DISCLAIMERS: little bit of touching and hints about sub/dom relationship! Finally my kinks are emerging! (evil laugh); Ghost-who-needs-to-make-peace-with-his-brain x Reader-who-needs-to-learn-how-to-shut-up; "How to be a psychologist without a degree" (by John Price); embarassing mission I hope does not exist in reality, but i needed it for plot's sake; little bit of wounds and scars (Doc.'s gonna tie you and Ghost up to a chair for the rest of your life); yelling and fighting and arguing (you're used to it by now).

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Fourth part here:

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«Why the hell you've let her-»

«MacTavish»

Price swallows through the smoked breath, clenching his fingers around the consumed cigar just to distract himself from the willingness to punch a wall, or the Sergeant's face.

«I've already had Ghost yelling at me for half an hour. Spare me»

«Then explain yourself, Cap.»

«I can't. I've no explanation. She'd done it by herself»

«She's no insubordinate»

«Not in that sense». He sighs. «I told her no. I knew it was too much for a rookie». He chews the extinguished cigar for a while, taking his time. «Laswell agreed. But that goddamn girl managed to convince Kate, somehow»

«How come?»

«Dunno. But she's already feeling bad enough, and she was the one who's got to rescue the girl»

«Laswell?? Ye serious?»

Price nods, eyes locked at the door in front of them. The doc entered almost one hour ago.

«And» Soap dares to ask «is Laswell…uhm…»

«She's ok» the Captain anticipates him. «Nothing broken. But the rookie…». He sighs again, scratching the bridge of his nose, pushing lightly his digits on the eyes. «I don't like soldiers wasting their lives like this. Especially good ones»

«The mission had to be done anyway»

«We could have waited for a better plan»  

He takes a last chew on the cigar, spitting it on his glove before squeezing the leftover crumbles in his fist. He throws everything in a trashcan, then gazes at Soap.

«We've got shit to do, Sergeant. We'll come to check her later»

«They've done something bad to her». That wasn't really a question, even if Soap hopes to be wrong. «Am i right?»

«What came up in that bloody lil' head of yours?»

Three gunshots in your arm (the right one, 'cause luck kicks you in the ass as always), one blade wound and various bruises, just to complete the masterpiece. Doc sent you out of the bed with a promise: to try to not touch the medications.

One in particular.

You didn't even want to eat, but you need to. So breakfast has started, with chocolate scent, closed stomach and two pairs of gaze on your red face. You've tried to avoid contact with every human being in the base, but someone's got a good sense of smell for you. And you eventually end up with Soap and Gaz surrounding you with their (legitimate) questions.

You're blushing like hell, stirring oatmeal crumble in the mug with your eyes drowning into it.

«…I've thought…i could be helpful»

«You're a brave kid, but that was-»

«Stupid» Soap ends the sentence. «To say the least». He finishes his coffee in a sip, swallowing the hot liquid in a rush. «It wasn't a rookie's work, ye should've known» 

You nod in embarrassment. «I did know»

«Then why?»

«'Cause…» you swallow, burying your eyes more into the mug, scratching the cuticles skin out of the nails. «…a girl was required. For the mission»

«Hold on» Gaz grabs your shoulder, lowering his voice. It was a confidential subject, not the one to speak about in a crowded dining room. But he keeps on with his curiosity anyway. «It was about weapons traffic, wasn't it?»

You nod.

«Then why a girl?»

You're about to answer, your mouth's already open even if you're not sure if filling them with a temporary lie, or just spit the truth.

Another sudden press on your shoulder takes you off from every doubt.

A big hand grabs you firmly, squeezing skin and bones underneath your uniform. Your body instantly shivers, tightening under the hold. You raise your head a little, but you know whose mask you're gonna jump into.

Ghost has the magical power to bring back the silence. He doesn't even have to speak, just a glare of his is enough. His look hits Soap and Gaz as to say: shut your bloody mouth; and they just roll their eyes at the ceiling, as to say: but we wanna know 'bout her mission, damn it.

Then he lowers on you just that tiny bit that's needed to let you feel his body heat closer, so warm against your cold limbs.

«Your presence is required» he says quickly, almost murmuring against your ear.

And here you are, walking behind his massive figure with eyes lowered on the ground, following his feet at a security distance through the base. He stops a couple of times to talk with someone, moments in which you play camouflaging with the wall; then you two reach a door, and you're so into not-seeing in front of you that you don't even look at where you are. 

He closes the door behind you, and only after a few seconds of embarrassment you find the bravery to mumbling:

«W-who required me?»

«I do»

Your heart skips a beat before your ears could collect his voice and your synapsis could elaborate its meaning. That's when you suddenly raise your sight, finding him clinging on the desk while looking at you through the mask, and even if you can't see his face it's pretty clear that he's judging you. You can read it on the skull, as there's an imaginary -but very perceptible-  neon writing saying: You're a bloody stupid gnome.

Voice escape through your lips automatically: «I'm sorry»

«'Bout what?» he kinda calls you out, pressing with his sternness on your pathetic whimpers.    

Your eyes lower again.

«…causing trouble-»

«Just that?»

You nod. You don't wanna talk about what kinda trouble; but he does.

«Take off your shirt»

Your brain flashes a sudden error signal, allowing you to shiver and wrap your arms tight around yourself. 

«…sir?»

Stupid question. You know why he's asking, the goddamn doctor had probably told him.

«Your shirt» he repeats, not moving from his place.

Two days ago, you would have started a war about this, yelling at him without regrets, brave enough to fight against your superior like two children between one small bucket. 

Not now. Now you just stand in your special spot in the office, allowing your body to move just what is needed to breathe, eyes locked on the floor. You feel him growing impatient, sighing through the mask as you're disappointing him.

«'K. If that's so…»

The sentence remains hanging in the air, and in a matter of seconds, without getting aware of how fast he came toward you, his hands are on your shoulder. You instantly panic but you're too small to fight against his weight that's pushing you against the door, pinning you still with an hand on your breastbone while the other runs to your shirt's hem.

You grab his wrist in a stupid attempt at stopping him, but he lifts the shirt up in one movement, revealing bruises, a bloody bandage, and…a little scar slightly under the belly button, fresh from the oven and still shiny from some medical gel: the writing made out of fire burns on your skin in an elegant gothic style. 

He stares at it, contemplating that swallowed piece of tattooed skin. Your face becomes so red you could spontaneously combust in this exact moment.

«Who made it?» he burst out, whispering harsh words.

You swallow hot air, digging your dry throat and hoping that whatever's gonna come out of your mouth will be the most sensible as possible.

«It's…it…traffic wasn't just 'bout weapons»

«Humans» he talks over immediately. 

You nod your head, specifying with a swallow: «women» 

«You've sneak in as a good to be sold»

«There was no other way to-»

«And they've marked you» his voice's not that high, but you're whispering enough to make it easy for him to have the upper hand on you. You become quiet, avoiding his sight, with your hands still wrapped around his wrist.

«Are you proud?»

The question wasn't expected, spitted roughly through his mouth. You clench your digits, digging in his gloves.

Then you nodd.

«Yes» the answer is a breath, warmth by your boldness and the consciousness that you've done what had to be done. And none would have taken that awareness from you. You eventually lift your sight a little, meeting his mask, letting the skull shape fill your eyes.

«Yes, I am»

You know he's looking at you as if he's got an idiot under his sight. You feel him judging, investigating your behavior, interrogating your posture. And you, trapped between a scary giant and a door, with his cold glove pressed where your belly still hurts, you dare to stare at him for one whole minute.

It seems enough: he lets you go, shaking your hands away from his wrists as he stands in all of his height against you.

«Good soldiers come home alive, little gnome»

«…it's a curious scolding from one who lives a dangerous life»

«I've already told ya: you don't know me»

«But i'm neither deaf nor blind»

«Buy a bloody mirror then». He takes two steps back, letting you breathe freely for the first time since you've entered the room. «Ya can say you see us clear, but speaking of seeing yourself…I can't say the same»

«I know me»   

«It seems not»

Blood starts to rush to your brain as the embarrassment turns into a mixed spoonful of anger and bitterness. You follow him, still at security distance, toward his desk. «Why? 'Cause you've caught me touching myself once and I made one bloody moan?»

«'S not that, and we've already talked enough 'bout it» he mumbled, pretending to not pay attention as he looks through some documents on the table.

«Oh, oh sure! Now we've talked enough about it» your arms end up crossing on your chest. «after you've ripped my elbow»

«It was just a nerve»

«Judicially irrelevant» 

«Shut your bloody mouth»

«Why? 'Cause you've told me s-»

«Yes»

You freeze; that was a cold, hard stone order. He's got his knuckles clenched on the table, his back's muscles are visibly breathing under the pressure of maintaining a glint of calm. 

«You» he turns at you, pointing a finger at your freezed face «you are a goddamn idiot, one of the worst species. I've tried to convince myself you weren't actually so stupid but, damn god, was i right in the first place»

Guilt assaults you with a knife at your throat, for reasons you don't know. And you find your eyes lower, your spirit evaporated, your anger extinguished under his glare. You try to mutter:

«I've just done my duty-»

«You threw away your life»

«The mission had to be done, that was our last possibility to catch that damn illegal traffic» you rush, raising your voice to grow some confidence in your speech «Laswell needed a woman and i just did my damn work!»

And he almost barks back, raising stern and furious eyes at you: «than what 'bout asking someone more experienced, you bloody asshole?!»

«'Cause it was needed a woman with-!». You suddenly stop, biting your inner cheek as a last word slips, almost like a whisper, through your lips: «…inclinations»

He's left speechless for a while, standing in front of you with the finger still hanging toward your figure. You swallow; you know he's going to ask more, and that's just 'cause you can't keep your mouth shut.

As if you've called it, he spit out a terse: «Explain»

You sigh. This would be a great time to sink ten meters underground.

«I» you start gesticulating, drawing figures in the air with your hands «I am…i-»

You expect him to joke about your incapability of connecting two words together; but he remains silent, looking at you almost with curiosity. And you're forced to keep on talking.

«…I like certain things people don't usually…agree to do» you force words outside your mouth, with cheeks on fire and eyes buried on the pavement.

His conclusion wastes no time to come:

«You're a submissive»

It's not a question, it's a truth and it hits you like a brick in the face, as if he'd already understood your particular nature till the beginning. There's no need for more explanation: you know what kind of submissive he's referring to, and he evidently knows just enough about the subject to grin, just a little, under the mask.

«The target was known for his…peculiar sexual tastes». The additional clarification was not necessary, but he gives it anyway. He let out a soft chuckle, almost like he's having fun thinking about it. «I can't believe that Laswell really rely on this stupid trick»

You would really clarify how much Laswell fought against your will to volunteer for that risk, but your voice is gone under the embarrassment. Your digits are digging into cuticles again, and you're about to pretend to not exist, turn your heels and just go away.

And you don't even notice he's got closer again, till he forces your face up by roughly grabbing your cheeks in one hand. 

The disappointment is palpable.

«You've run into that perv's den alone, risking yourself for a mission you knew you couldn't handle…just to satisfy your throbbing cunt?»

That hit you worse than every other thing he's thrown at you till now. Your cheeks catch fire in his hands, guilt choke air in your lungs and poisonous butterflies eat your stomach, whispering through the entrails: he's right.

But you don't want him to be right.

«I've just decided to put every weapon I've got at your service» you spit out.

His grip gets tighter. «Sure thing. And what have you gained? Apart of a saving operation that wasted everyone's time, of course»

«Mission was completed»

«We would have found another way to do it, rookie»

«But I did it» you grab his wrist, trying again to escape from his hold. «And i'm alive, so why the hell are we even talking about-»

It happens all of a sudden: he pushes you again against the door, harder and roughly enough to make your spine squeak on it. You hold a yell, and one second after you can't breathe anymore.

He holds you by your mouth, pushing on your face with his whole hand open, while the other runs down right under your belly, squeezing on your crotch like it's made of play dough.

«This is no playfield». His voice is almost a growl murmur in your ear as he lowers enough to overcome you with his bigger body. «Soldiers have morals. And dignity. Maybe 's not clear to your pretty little brain. So: watch» and he speaks slowly, growling coldness with tongue maid of sharp metal, his eyes on you with that goddamn mask supply (and you're sure you're gonna dream about his sight forever) «your. Bloody. Mouth. Kitty» 

The nickname, the grip on your pants, the fact that you're breaking your personal apnea record…just burn your brain. And, in a loss of breath, trying so desperately to find a way out of that embarrassment while freezing your hormones that are already running too low on your body…

You bite him.

You sink your teeth in his glove as hard as you can, ripping off that goddamn dignity he was speaking about, letting the residual rage work as a fuel for your mouth. He suddenly jerks with a step back, catched by surprise, tearing his hands away, and to do so…he pushes with the other hand on your lower belly.

On your goddamn freshly engraved and barely healed tattoo.

On the scar the doc pleaded with you not to touch.

You spit his glove out of your mouth, yelling like your vocal chords have turn into a megaphone.

Ten minutes later, you two are waiting outside of the infirmary.

The knock on the door doesn't distract him, too focused pretending to find his paperwork attractive.

Price gets in without invitation.

«Just a word» he sits at the desk, usual hat at his place and cigar climbing from his lips «between me and you»

Ghost doesn't lift his sight.

«I've talked with doc-»

«I don't need to be scold 'bout it, if that's what ya'r here for»

Price sighs a low, maybe a little bit too paternal: «Ghost-»

«If you two» Simon raises his voice a little «believe in trusting every goddamn rookie, sending them risking their bloody neck just 'cause they've told you how good they are at shaking their ass-»

«You've already yelled about it, give my ears a rest. In any case, Laswell made the best choice in her position» Captain talks over him. «And I agree with her. We couldn't lose that opportunity, Simon»

«She didn't even managed to end the mission alone»

«But the rookie did a great job. Only problem was taking her out of that shit»

«You can't seriously call a kink exploitation one "great job"»

«She's a soldier. We're not here to babysit, risking our life 's part of our contract»

Silence. 

Price starts to get nervous, feeling some mixed emotions that he really can't stand at six in the evening. He suddenly stands up, patting both hands on the desk, taking a deep breath before exhaling a long, almost exhausted: 

«There's nothing bad in making friends with your allies…»

Ghost is already rushing an "i don't need friends" kinda sentence, but Price anticipates him:

«Me too, i've made friendships on the battlefield that i hope will last as long as my bones will walk on the dirt. Then, we could die together and be happy in whatever hell God'll decide to send us. But» and his "but" was final «i know what you're doing here. Stop it. It's gonna be draining, for the both of you»

Ghost spits out: «I'm doing nothin'», too rushed, then muttering: «Don't even like her»

«I don't care who you like. You can marry whoever you want, you've got my approval»

«For fuck's sake Price-»

«Wanna delete her from your eyesight? Just look straight in front of you from now on. Wanna keep an eye on her?» John raises his hands, throwing Ghost's embarrassment in the air while admitting with the most honest attitude: «Sure. Ok. I keep an eye on you all every goddamn minute of my life. She's not a princess, though. And ya'r not a bloody knight»

Silence becomes again the king in the office. Price is still fixed in his extreme openness, ready to give his Lt. the best suggestions on how-to-not end up again at the infirmary with that goddamn rookie (before the doc kills the both of them).

Then Ghost finally raises his gaze.

And Price has a bad sensation in his guts, almost like he'd said something he shouldn't have.

«Keeping…an eye on her» Simon repeats, lost in thoughts.

John nodds, hesitating before leaving the office.

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[ginxparker]

flowers - ghostsoap

Soap who loves flowers and has the knowledge of the meaning of each one of them.

Ghost who is madly in love with Soap and doesn't know how to confess.

Soap who, despite appreciating a good and big bouquet of roses, has already been caught saying he thought the idea was a bit cliché.

Ghost who knows how much Soap cares about details despite not looking like it and who wants to feel heard and loved.

Soap that in every mission gives a mini-lesson of some different flower that they find along the way.

Ghost who finally takes courage and makes the least harmonious and beautiful bouquet ever seen in history, but which contains all the flowers with different meanings that symbolize the explosion of feelings that Simon has for Johnny.

Jhonny who feels his eyes fill with tears because Simon was paying attention to him, always. And who chose the flowers with the best meanings.

Red roses in the center representing enduring passion, a single yellow rose within the bunch of red roses, representing their friendship, which was the core of what they began to cultivate for each other and red tulips on the right symbolizing true love, white camellias on the left representing the adoration that Ghost felt;

Dahlias in contact with all the flowers being the lasting bond, white carnations around the entire bouquet that said their love was pure in its entirety.

Simon who, despite his nervousness and desire to escape, manages to express what he feels at the very least.

And Jhonny, who couldn't wait to hear his confession, throws himself at him and kisses him with a touch of love that Simon has never experienced before.

It was time for their love to begin to blossom.

[sparky-draws]

Moon 4 - Greenleaf

the next couple moons are also relatively short, don't know when i'll get them done tho as I'm still v sick 🤒

[tavtarnish]

Thank you @hyperfixationwizard for supporting my dreams

So here's here's: Kinks Soap Realised Because of Ghost (pt 1?) some are established kinks, some are more specific turn ons ig.

- Competence kink: tha includes his rank, how ghost cleans his weapons, when he shoots andhits his targets (real and in training), watching him win as he spars, participating in a spar with him and losing to him etc and soforth

- Size kink: Soap is not a small man, hence why ghost awakened the kink to him - its not general either I don't think, like it's because it's ghost at the end of the day. I say this because ghost isn't just taller, broader and is also muscular, but he also looks out for soap and makes him feel protected - yes the ability to be tossed around is arousing, but he doesn't have the same feeling for just anyone who's taller and muscular. There's a whole Vibe to it.

- Mask Kink: okay so either Ghost awakens this or he reignites it, but there's something about masked men and it's probably the possible intimidation (next up) that comes with not seeing expressions plainly. Though, I feel this one only translates during heated moments once they actually know each other (even before dating). Ghost doesn't realise that the mask doesn't take away from the moment for Soap at first - like he wins either way cause he either gets to see Simon fall apart which makes his head spin and go fuzzy or he gets to have the mask on which Gets Him Going as well.

- Intimidation: this one sounds dubious but it's not that he is intimidated but he should be. Instead, he's turned tf on, whether Ghost is barking orders to other people or if he can feel a glare on the back of his neck, Soap knows he should feel worried, but he's not. This also plays into the rank stuff

- Rank: okay, this is one he's surprised about because, again, it doesn't happen with anyone else, so is definitely more of a byproduct of their relationship. But you can't tell me hearing Ghost call him Sargent doesn't get him riled up (dep. on context). (The same can be said for Ghost and the term Lieutenant/L.T - again dep on tone/ context)

- BDSM: obvious, but it kind of ties in with the size kink stuff - it's rare he can find someone to actually dominate him (switch GhostSoap for life) so finding Ghost who can, will and wants to in a way that feels so powerful but trusting and loving??? Soap's a bit addicted. Also having Ghost allow him to dominate him feels earth shatteringly different than Soap's previous partners/one night stands that Soap knows nothing will beat it

- Desperation: low-key think this is a big one for both of them in both situations of topping and bottoming because I feel they BOTH wouldn't like to be seen as desperate before having each other (esp not with one night stands). It's the trust that lets them be desperate for each other and they both get off to the other's want no matter if they're more dominant or submissive in that desperation

- Degradation kink: he likes name calling a lot. This one is a bit more generic I feel, BUT even a change in ghost's tone can make soap flustered if he knows the intention/ knows that it's not actual criticism. Plus other acts under this kink would require trust that ties into the desperation category

- Praise kink: again, a bit more general, but Ghost really knows how to press his buttons like that

- Titles: might come under rank but honorifics like 'sir' sad by him and said TO him by Ghost has Soap's stomach in knots

- Subbing from the top / Topping from the bottom: he never gave much consideration into it until Ghost. He simply thought he liked being a switch/vers and never considered mixing it up like that but power bottom Johnny is awakened through Ghost for sure

[sadnsxft]

trust that ima be banned from every bar because of the fights thatll happen if someone doesnt get the fuckin hint

"HE SAID HES TAKEN BITCH"

141 + König when somebody else approaches them (in front of you) AFAB READER!

Tw: a little bit of cursing

Kyle “gaz” Garrick

He doesn’t really like leaving your side if you two go anywhere together he’s usually there sitting with you or if he gets up he leaves you with his friends so your not alone

But if another woman were to come up to him and try flirting with him you probably wouldn’t get time to look over and be jealous because he’ll drop the “I have a gf ✋🤨” bomb IMMEDIATELY no playing around

But if a woman tried to force herself on him and you saw that then bitch I hope you can fight because he will not lay his hands on a lady

If he’s ever in a situation like that he just stands there and stares at you making it very clear he is very uncomfortable and begging you to bail him out

John price

He doesn’t like going to bars with you often he prefers to take you out to dinner instead but if you came to the bar to him and he gets hit on he basically ignores them or politely tells them “I have a gf 😊”

But if that doesn’t work and they are still bugging him he simply stands up and goes to the bathroom (he ends up calling you and asking you if you want to leave)

But if you ever were jealous of anybody else in his life he hands you his phone while he tells you how much he loves you and how he’d never cheat on you and you don’t have to worry

John “soap” mactavish

Likes to take you everywhere he goes so if he’s going to the bar he wants you to come with him

He’s very into PDA so it’s not often he gets approached when he’s with you

When other women try to hit on him in front of you he just looks at you making sure your not looking before quietly telling the woman he has a gf like he’s trying to save her life 💀

(The bar fights I would start for this man 🤦‍♀️)

Simon “ghost” Riley

He doesn’t like to drink much but when he does he likes if you go with him

So most the time he doesn’t really get hit on because of the mask and usually he’s just hunched over the bar with his hood up he doesn’t really look like someone you want to take home because with that one mask on he just looks like 👁👁

But if a chick ever wanted to get experimental that night he feels better if your there to fend them off because he just doesn’t even engage with them he just lets you handle it

But most the time people are not coming up to him in pupils asking for his number

König

He doesn’t get approached in public have you seen him??

Not even experimental mfs want this man he is 6’10 and wears a sniper hood

You got nothing to worry about trust 💀

((✿: so Farah and Valeria are going to get their own post if your interested I’m gonna start catching them up with the all the hcs I did for the boys I just don’t wanna smush all the characters into one female characters will have the pink digital headers! ALSO I WOKE UP THIS MORNING WITH 99+ NOTIFICATIONS WTF OMG THANK YOU 🙏🙏😭😭😭))

[twinksrepository]

An afternoon at the Lost Oasis

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Sylus X F!Reader

CW: Smut, smut with Feelings, flirting, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Neck Kissing, Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm, Hair-pulling, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Big dick, tender Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Finger Sucking, Overstimulation, Creampie

Word count: Roughly 7K

A/N: After a day of letting you use him for lessons as a pretend wander and then using all the water for your shower. Sylus has enough of your teasing, and the man finds he isn't ready to just let you sit back and relax. Deciding it might be time him to be the teacher and giving you a lesson himself.

I needed to write this after that scene in the five star card. Good lord this man is spicy and fine...

Perfer AO3? You can read it here

You gasp as Sylus adjusts the way his arm is curled around you, shifting your legs so he can hold you closer to him with one arm. Forcing you to wrap your hands around his neck to keep your balance, causing him to chuckle as he strides away from the shower. “Sylus!” The fabric of your satin nighty that he had provided is even wetter now, the edge riding higher on your thighs. Feeling the dampness of his skin starting to seep into the material between your butt making you shiver in his hold. 

“I told you the soundproofing here isn’t great.” He still had that edge to his tone just like he did a moment ago. “Or is class in fact over, Miss?” It’s like whiplash how quickly his tone changed back to teasing. He’s so mercurial sometimes, yet the longer you know him the more charming you find it. It also doesn’t help that in the new position his head is just above your breasts, his breath washing over the barely covered skin that has you swallowing while your core clenches. 

You don’t miss the way his fingers squeeze the meat of your thigh through the damp fabric as he walks. “If you mean a class on how to be humble it’s far from over.” Two can play at his game of teasing, and you’re choosing to ignore the fact you might have started it when you were wiping the remaining soap suds from his chest. Dragging your palm down his chest towards the center of his pectorals with just enough pressure to make him wince and make that same groan that makes your belly warm. 

“I had a different lesson in mind.” Pushing a door at the end of the hallway open, you find yourself involuntarily swallowing at the husk lacing his words. It certainly doesn’t have the same opulence you’re used to associating with the leader of Onychinus, but given the location you shouldn’t have expected him to have an entire two floors like he does for most hotels he stays at. Except you don’t get much time to look around from your place held in the air. 

Gasping as you drop from your elevated perch before you’re wedged between the door at your back and Sylus at your front, an adjustment on his part with your legs now on either side of him instead of one side. He has you positioned so you’re level with him and your eyes locked onto one another's. You see the sheer adoration hidden behind that smolder in his crimson orbs, the fingers of his hand trailing along your side and gently dragging the hem of your nighty higher. “What happened Sweetie, cat get your tongue?” 

He’s back to teasing you, leaning closer and ghosting his lips along the edge of your cheekbone until his mouth is right next to your ear. Drops of the water still clinging to his hair fall onto your shoulder causing you to shiver as you try to gather your scattered thoughts to retort. Hard to do when he’s making sure you can hear how ragged his breathing is and the way the moist air seems to envelop your skin.  

“What kind of lesson?” The sureness of your voice from earlier is gone, replaced by a hint of trepidation. At least you’ve gotten better at figuring out when you might have gotten in over your head with Sylus. 

“The kind where a certain kitten learns playing with her claws out has consequences.” Trailing his lips along the shell of your ear before he starts to mouth at the side of your neck. His hips are keeping you in place so his hands can delicately dance upward along your side, teasing your skin in a way that adds to the shivering of your frame in his hold. There’s no doubting how turned on he is, the towel around his hips doing a poor job hiding how hard he is. Well and the fact you can feel the heat from it against your inner thigh. “Like finding out the corvid she thought was tame is, at its core.” Dragging his teeth along the tendon of your neck. “A creature of the wild.” 

“I haven’t been teasing you tha-” Gasping your hands fly to the back of his head and tangle in those damp grey hairs that you had been trying to avoid. His teeth nipping against the pulse point in your neck, forcing the crown of your head to hit the panel of the door you’re held against. Sucking on the area and you can’t hide the moan that slips past your lips, your fingers digging more into the back of his skull unsure if you want to force him to remain in place or push him away. 

Your heart hammering away inside of your chest, the tempo steadily increasing as he sucks harder as if he wants to leave a visible mark that will last for days. A reminder for you that you belong to him, and a warning to others with how vivid the color of your bruise is going to be. A soft noise of contentment that seems out of place as the pressure against your neck decreases, only for you to hiss in pain as his teeth sink into your skin just below your pulse. “Sylus!” Screaming his name as your brain scrambles to figure out what your body wants you to do. 

Sliding his palm across your lips to silence you, his tongue licking over the abused area in soothing passes. “This room is better than the bathroom, but the soundproofing still isn’t all that great.” Tilting his head back so you can look you in the eye once more. “So try not to scream too loudly, Sweetie.” Shifting his hand you glare at him, sticking your tongue out to lick his palm and his fingers as they pass your parted lips. Shaking his head at your action and forcing two of his long digits into your mouth and placing gentle pressure on your tongue. “You’re not doing a good job denying my allegations of teasing too much when you do something like that.” Raising an eyebrow at you before he smirks. “But if you want to use that mouth of yours I can put it to use.” Rolling his hips in a way that you feel his length press harder into your thigh, at the same time his other hand ghosts to your chest and gives one of your breasts a squeeze through the thin red fabric. 

Fine. Narrowing your eyes at him you close your lips and suck around his fingers, finally disentangling your hands from his hair. It’s your turn to do a bit more teasing, letting the tips of your fingers of one hand glide across his cheek and down to the side of his neck. Tracing the tendon as if in a caress, the pressure so much lighter than earlier as your other hand wraps around his wrist. Using it to keep his hand in place as you move your head as if you’re sucking on his cock instead of those long digits. Undulating your tongue along the rough skin as you moan, catching his eyes and sending him your best attempt at a sultry glance with your lids lowered so you see him through your lashes. 

He sucks in a breath in time to the involuntary snap of his hips, a brief chuckle from him that has your insides warming. Trying to roll your hips as well but it doesn’t work because of the angle of your body being held in place against the door by his. “Still teasing I se-” You don’t let him say more, your hand that had been tracing the edge of his collarbone switches from the tender sweep to dragging against his skin. Your fingers move downward over one of his pectorals with enough force to leave a wake of pale skin before the color returns. Hearing that lovely hiss as he inhales through his teeth with his eyes slamming shut. Like early you let your touch grow gentle again closer to the center, using the other hand to tug his wrist away from your mouth. A loud wet pop as his fingers slide past your lips, slick with your spit and a few strands still connecting those lovely digits to your bottom lip. 

“I can’t help myself, you’re just so responsive to my touch.” Your voice has that breathless rasp to it, raising your hand to rest against his neck once more. “I like knowing I can affect you like how you affect me.” You already know you’re in trouble from all your teasing earlier, a little honey lacing your words might save you from being edged several times by the handsome man. 

“ Never.” Placing your hand on his shoulder after nipping the skin of your thumb, that single word makes your face flush and you can feel a dampness forming inside your core. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to go easy on you during your lesson. ” Trailing his hand down your side to the hem of your nighty and slipping it beneath the fabric and back up your thigh to brush his thumb along the soft skin near the edge of your sex hidden by your underwear. 

The walls of your core clamp down at the soft touch, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you breathe in through your nose to try and slow the hammering of your heart. Moaning when the tip of his finger slips under the band of your underwear, that crimson gaze on his on yours as his face leans closer. “Don’t bite your lip Sweetie.” That deep rumble has you parting your lips, anticipating the incoming connection as your eyelids flicker before closing. The moisture from his breath washes against your face as that lone finger moves closer to your folds. 

Only for both of you to freeze hearing movement beyond the door. Straining your ears to try and pin point the direction it was coming from, it sounds to you like it’s someone walking down to the other end of the hallway. Shuffling along as if they’re carrying something. 

Flicking your eyes back up to Sylus who’s sporting the softest of frowns at the door you find your lips moving, offering an apology without making another noise. The frown on his face was replaced by him raising one of his eyebrows and the corners of his lips tilting to form a devilish smirk. 

Tilting his head and placing a gentle kiss to the inside of your forearm before lifting his hand away from your breast to signal for you to be silent with his finger against his lips. The confusion is visible on your face as you don’t know how you can be any more silent than you already are. Unless he means the pounding of your heart, but that might also just be in your head. 

Still smirking at you, you gasp quickly bringing one of your hands to stifle the noise as he shakes with the force of his silent chuckle. Giving the finger now just past the opening of your entrance a curl, brushing against your damp walls. 

You’re torn between being mad and turning into a puddle. Squeezing his shoulder to let him know you’re not exactly happy with him at the moment. He’s unfazed, which you should have expected. Slipping his finger farther into your slick channel until you feel his knuckle brush your entrance, starting to curl and swirl the lone digit in a way that has you moaning behind your hand. Sylus doesn’t stop, but you’re trying to strain your ears again searching for any indication that the two of you are going to be found out. All you can hear is the haggard breathing that rattles out of him like he wants to do far more than just finger you against the door. 

Arching your back slightly when he adds a second finger, working so the two digits are moving independently of the other. When one curls forward the other shifts back, stretching your walls and tapping the rough tip against any area that has your body involuntary squirming against him. You’re nowhere near your limit but his actions have the ember of arousal in your stomach burning hotter and hotter. As if the added edge of being heard and the potential of being interrupted is adding to the way your body is responding to him. Another soft moan escapes you when one of his fingers hits a spot that has you clenching around him hard enough that he hisses in what you hope is pleasure.

Leaning his head against the side of yours so he can whisper in a voice that sounds like a promise of unimagine pleasure and wrapped in sex that you barely hear. “I want to hear you Sweetie, the way you respond to my touch, my fingers pushing you to the edge.” His lips close enough to your ear that the movement of his lips as he articulates his thoughts tickles the hard inner fold. “But, I want those noises just for myself. I don’t want a single other person to hear how you mewl and pant for me, because of me.” Adding a third finger that has a prickle of tears at the edge of your vision as you bite your tongue to keep yourself from howling at how good he feels. “What a conundrum I find myself in.” 

Pumping his fingers faster now inside of your walls, the sound of squelching seems impossibly loud with the moisture from your pussy coating his fingers. It’s obscene and yet has you even more turned on, the panting and low groans from Sylus right next to your ear like music. The soft gyrations of his hips another indication of how much he’s enjoying the moment, the fabric of the towel has shifted enough you can feel the heat from the head of his cock as it rubs into your thigh leaving a mess of fluid along the skin. 

“Move your hand.” A low command and you shake your head in the negative. He told you to be quiet and there’s no way you can be with what he’s doing to you. “Sweetie.” With the way he says that one word you have no choice but to listen to him, sliding your hand away from your mouth with trepidation. 

His fingers still in your walls, all three are knuckle deep and you take in a deep breath that has your chest expanding to fill the tiny space separating both of your bodies. “Sylus?” It takes effort just to get his name out, like a whisper of a prayer. Maybe it is, a prayer to have him push you over the edge, a prayer to feel his lips along your skin in a way that makes you feel cherished. 

“Not so loud Sweetie.” Trailing the tip of his nose along the shell of your ear before sliding his face closer, his nose pressing along the ridge of your cheekbone a trail of goosebumps following in its wake. “Unless you want to get caught?” Able to see his eyes beneath the mirth shining in those crimson orbs you can see a hint of his adoration. Remember the first time he told you after dragging you to a fight with a gangster how there was no love purer than his. 

“Maybe.” It’s your turn to smirk at him, the smile reaching your eyes as his chest vibrates with another silent laugh. Choosing that moment to slowly remove his fingers from your cunt before slamming them back in with force. You don’t get the chance to scream as his lips slot over yours, swallowing any noises you make in surprise. 

You give up all pretense of being upset with him for all the teasing, you did give it your best attempt at keeping up with his actions. Yet as his tongue sweeps across the inside of your mouth and his fingers pump into you like a machine you’re content to just relax against the wall. Guiding your hands to the back of his neck and up into his hair while he swirls the wet muscle against your own. Playfully flicking the tip to get you to engage with him in a different type of dance. 

His wrist is moving faster, those long digits fluttering along your slick walls that are squeezing around him as if trying to drag them deeper into your cunt. A line of fire starting to race along your spine while your toes curl.

Dragging the edge of your fingernails from the top of his scalp down to the back of his neck, as you coil your tongue with his. Hearing him groan into your mouth has you humming yourself in both satisfaction and pleasure. Your asscheeks clenching as your hips try to roll to chase his fingers, you’re close now. Ready to fall off that edge. 

Sylus is well aware of how close you are if the amount of your slick running down his fingers and wrist is anything to go by. The fluid trailing down his arm in a steady stream before dripping onto his thigh. He wants you, wants to slam his cock into the deepest part of you while you’re against the door and feel you squeeze him. Except that isn’t an option right now. As meticulous as he is with his planning and considerations, he made a small mistake. 

He’d forgotten the condoms. Well forgotten implied he didn’t think about them when the object had crossed his mind. No. He thought that this time he’d indulge in just bringing you pleasure, of making you squirm from his fingers, to twist under the confines of his arms holding you in place while he used his mouth to make you cum over and over again while he drank down your release like a fine wine. To enjoy you like an oasis and him a man that hadn’t seen water in weeks.

He should have known better. You were his weakness and in this moment you were making his resolve to pamper you while denying himself the feeling of being wrapped in your tight heat crumble. The soft roll of your hips following his fingers, the way your hands carded through his hair tugging the strands just enough to make him aware. The dragging of your nails along his scalp had his hips shuddering like he was some teenager getting off for the first time, and your noises. 

Damn, those noises. From the wet squelching of your cunt to those soft little moans and whimpers that were just loud enough for him to hear. He needed you to cum on his fingers. 

Now. 

Now while his mouth is attached to yours, to swallow down your call of his name while you cum. He knew the scream would be loud enough to have someone coming to investigate, assuming there was a danger of some kind. Pumping his fingers faster while pushing his upper body more into yours, sliding his free hand above your head trying to make the space even smaller. As if to make it so you’re both occupying the same space. 

Your fingers start to dig into the meat of his shoulders as he leans more into you, you’re almost there as his fingers pump you faster, the thundering of your heart pounding in your ear as your lungs start to burn. It takes all of your brain cells to still your body and breathe in as deeply as you can through your nose. 

That moment of stillness is what does you in, like you’re hyper aware of the rough tips of his fingers brushing against a cluster of nerves along your walls, of the faint taste of wine on his tongue that you don’t remember seeing him drink. 

Slumping against his body while your hands loosen on his neck, sliding down against the door a small amount so your waist is more in line with his as the liquid pours down your legs and puddles under your feet. 

Pulling his fingers from your quivering core Sylus grins, watching you breathe through your mouth with your eyes closed as he leans back. Raising his hand to see the amount of slick coating his long digits. Smirking as he waited for you to come back to your senses for what he planned to do next. 

You feel like you’re floating with the haze running through your mind from your post orgasm high. The muscles of your body are lax as you take in a long inhale before slowly opening your eyes and sending a soft smirk toward Sylus. You’re sure you look like a love sick fool, but it’s just the two of you here right now and doubt he’d care. If anything he’d take pride at the slack jawed look you’re sporting. Lifting a hand and watching it as if in slow motion before resting it against the side of his neck again. “Was I a good student?”

Sylus chuckles, raising his hand you notice the fluid coating his fingers. Watching him stick out his tongue and lick the inside of his hand from the base of his forefinger to the tip. Humming as the wet muscle slips back inside his mouth. “You mean so far?” Closing his eyes as he shakes his head as if in disbelief his voice still low like he’s worried about being overheard and you remember his comments about how this room didn’t have the best soundproofing either. “I suppose so.” Flashing you a smile that makes your core flutter as the flicker of arousal starts to build in your body again. “Though, we’re far from finished Kitten.” 

Tapping his other two fingers against your bottom lip and smearing some of your release along the puffy skin. “Time for the next part.” A playful whisper to his words and you understand his meaning, parting your lips and shifting your head forward to wrap them around his fingers. The tip of your tongue slips along the edges of his fingers as the taste of yourself floods your senses. “Still a quick study I see.” That deep rasp tells you how as much as Sylus looks unaffected, even as his skin has that flush that he gains when he’s been working out for a while, he’s barely holding himself together right now. 

It just makes you suck all the harder, curling your tongue before flattening it as if scooping every drop off his digits. Humming as you swallow the last of your release from his fingers, at some point you had closed your eyes, slowly opening them to peer up at his face through your lashes. Making a show of pulling your head back so his fingers fall from your mouth with a pop. “I do my best to impress.” Licking your top lip before smirking at him, feeling like you want to try and push his buttons. “Was that it?” A breathy exhale accompanying your words, letting the tip of your tongue poke out of the corner of your lip.

“You say it like you’re not impressed.” Sliding his hands down your sides and giving your hips the slightest of squeezes, hoisting you into the air once more. “I still have another trick up my sleeve for my favorite student Sweetie.” Striding towards the bed that’s against the wall and thankfully far from the door. Flashing you a smile that makes you wonder if you’re floating in a dream after that orgasm or awake. 

At least until he drops you on the bed with no amount of decorum. “Sylus!” At least you remember his words from earlier as you hiss at him with your voice low. “Why are you always dropping me on the damn bed!” 

“A good hunter should expect the unexpected.” Kneeling on the edge of the bed he motions for you to move backwards so you're more in the center of the mattress. Sliding back on your elbows you let your eyes wander down to the towel still wrapped around his waist, hiding his length from view. 

“Well I expect my boyfriend not to throw me around like a rag doll.” Pouting up and him as he shuffles more of his body onto the firm surface. 

“I'll keep that in mind, Sweetie.” Tilting his head so those gray bangs fall across his forehead and briefly hide his eyes. “Now.” Dropping his voice as he lowers himself down with his arms beside the edges of your stomach. “Spread your legs, I want a taste.” His voice is sinfully low and you feel a twinge in your belly as it tightens in response along with your core. 

“What about you?” You're not against him eating you out, more than once now he’s left you an incoherent mess with his tongue curled inside your slick walls. It can do a lot more than just sweet talk you and talk his way out of situations when he doesn’t blast his way out. 

Shaking his head just enough to make his bangs shift once more. “It's not about me right now, I want you to relax. I've missed you these past few weeks.” Sporting a smile as he says it that makes you sink more into the mattress, except you aren’t sure how you feel about his answer.

Pushing yourself up as best as you can using your elbows feeling the press of his arms against your stomach keeping you in place. “Sylus.” It’s awkward as you reach out to run your hand along his cheek, trying to remain upright with one hand. “I’ve missed you too.” Brushing the tips of your fingers along his skin while focusing on his crimson orbs. “I wanna feel you, all of you. Please Sylus, don’t make it about me.” You have missed him and as much as you like the idea of just letting him pamper you right now, you’d rather have both of you enjoying your time together.

Letting out a long exhale Sylus drops his head against the skin of your thigh, his eyes flicking from yours to his hands along your stomach rubbing the thin fabric serving as a flimsy barrier. One of his cheeks is pressed against your skin, distorting his face as he pouts before opening his mouth. “I don’t have any condoms here.” It comes out so flat and low you aren’t sure you heard him correctly at first. 

Furrowing your brow as you blink, trying to understand the problem. “Why does that matter?” The confusion you feel lacing your words as you watch him blink at you in surprise. “I mean I’ve been on birth control for a while.” A thought crossing your mind that you find tumbling from your lips before you can think about it. “Unless you’re seeing someone else.” That has your heart beating painfully in your chest, with all his sweet words and tender actions you don’t like the idea of him dating more than just you. 

“Did you really just ask me that?” Lifting his face away from your thigh and using his arms to slide up your body until he’s towering over you not truly giving you the chance to answer him. “I thought by now, you’d understand I adore you.” Letting his weight settle onto your body his face in line with yours. “There is and never will be, anyone else.” Every time he says something like that it makes your heart race, from the way his voice carries no hint of hesitation and the steady cadence as if he’s stating a simple fact. 

“Sylus.” Your voice sounds soft, even to your own ears as you slide your hands along his shoulder. A hint to get him to move closer so you can kiss him properly. Unlike all the others so far it’s soft and tender, a reminder that his words are true and you love him all the more for it. “Please Sylus, I wanna feel you.” 

Humming as he runs his nose along the side of yours, opening his eyes slowly and you see the burning desire deep in those crimson orbs. “It certainly isn’t what I planned, but you’re hard to deny when you ask me like that Sweetie.” Rolling his back to create some space between the two of you. Grabbing the edge of the towel still wrapped around his waist and tugging the knot loose so the fabric falls away revealing his hard length. 

You make a noise much like a mewl at the sight, reaching out and taking him in hand. Your core clenching as you slide your palm along his velvet like skin, the heat of him sinking into you. The tip of his cock red and weeping, your eyes trailing upward when he starts to chuckle again. “What’s so funny?” 

“Just how eager a certain Kitten is when she wants something.” Tapping your side but not stopping you from giving him a hand job. “Not sit up, unless you want me to rip this lovely little piece of lingerie from your body.” Sighing as his hands hook the hem of the thin nightwear, brushing along your ribs as she moves it higher. 

You have to let him go so he can fully remove the garment, and when he does he’s quick to place his hands over your breasts. Teasing the skin between his fingers with a raised eyebrow. “No matter how often I see these, it’s not enough.” 

“So the leader of Onychinus is a boob man?” A teasing lilt to your voice as you go back to pumping his cock with a twist of your wrist near the head, using the precum seeping from his head as lube. 

“I wouldn’t say that.” Leaving the tissue of your chest alone, seemingly happy with the way your nipples have hardened under his touch. “More.” Trailing off until his eyes lock with yours. “I’m a man that knows exactly what he wants, and takes steps to ensure I obtain it.” Using the heel of his hand to push you back into the fabric of the bedspread before hooking a single digit into the band of your underwear and tugging it down your legs, only for part of the material to snag and in his haste force it to snap. He’s as smooth as he can be removing the tattered scrap of fabric and your hand from his cock, adjusting his position to toss your underwear to the floor. 

“Hey!” 

“I’ll get you another pair later.” Laughing at the indignation on your face as your nose quirks at the man. Another adjustment and Sylus pauses, his cock heavy as it rests against your thigh. “Tell me what you want.” That husk is back in his voice and you wonder if he’s wanted to have you with no barriers before now. 

“I want you Sylus. All of you.” Smiling up at him as you place a hand on his chest, adding enough pressure as you drag it along the skin to make him hiss just like when you were both in the bathroom. “I want to feel you deep inside me with nothing between us.” 

“Tell me if it’s too much.” Using his hand to guide his cock between your legs, but he doesn’t move to enter you right away. Sliding his tip along your folds as he gathered some of your wetness, his hand working your slick along his length. Grinning down aware you’re watching him and making a show of tapping his dick against your clit so you let out a soft little gasp as it sends shockwaves through your stomach and your thighs to clench. “Ready?” 

He’s watching your face, waiting for you to either speak or nod for him to continue. After taking a deep breath you nod, trying to will your body to relax for the incoming stretch. You can’t help the long sigh that leaves your lips as he lines the head of his cock up with your entrance and starts to press inside. You gaze firmly on his face now as he stares at where your bodies are joined and watches as his length disappears inside of you. 

“So good.” Panting as he starts to pull back somewhat before plunging forward once more, he’s still not as deep as he can go, maybe a third of his length stretching your slick walls. It’s far from the first time you’ve had sex, even farther from the last, yet it feels so different without that thin layer of latex separating you. Every bump and vein seems more prominent as he splits you open with his dick, his gaze unwavering from where he’s connected to you.

If you weren’t already starting to squirm from the heat radiating into your pussy from his dick you might have noticed the damp skin at the edge of his hairline. Sylus is struggling to stop from snapping his hips forward and slamming his length balls deep, he wants to savor this. The way your slick walls suck him in and how warm and tight you are with that direct skin to skin contact. One word runs through his mind on repeat as more of his dick slides inside of you. 

Heavenly.

You gasp, your hands writhing and you flail, trying to grab something, anything, to ground you. He feels so good, the veins along his shaft rubbing against a bundle of nerves that has your cunt clamping down. The firm muscles of his forearms end up being what you find, grasping them as the tendons shift. ��Alright, Sweetie? I’m just past halfway.” You whine hearing that, squeezing his arms a little harder than you meant to. 

“Sylus!” Bawling his name in a whisper, still aware you don’t want to make too much noise even without the door against your back. “More.” Arching your back as you try to spear yourself more onto his cock. “Please.” You’re ready to cum and you want to feel him in the deepest part of you when you tip over the edge. 

“Hang on, I’ll get us there.” His voice sounds clipped, opening your eyes that you don’t remember closing. His cheeks painted a vibrant crimson to match his eyes, and you notice a single bead of sweat form between his brow and trail down to the tip of his nose. “I didn’t think the lack of a condom would have me this close when we just started.” Hooking his arms around your thighs briefly to lift your legs, allowing him to move closer. A few more thrusts before he stops and you start to tremble, the head of his cock just brushing your cervix has your core burning like an inferno. 

Your walls clamped around him tightly enough you could have sworn you felt his heart beating inside your pussy, throbbing in time to the pulse in his neck as he remained stationary. The only part of Sylus moving was his chest as it expanded with the force of his inhales. “Damn Kitten.” Watching you through lidded eyes. “You feel like a vice.” Trailing one of his hands from your hip to the soft skin of your abdomen, placing his palm just above your pelvis. “Just relax, I want this to last.” 

Easier said than done when you’re ready to cum, softly whining as you lift your hands higher along his arms. “Hard to do when you feel so good Sylus.” Reaching his shoulders and giving him a small tug hoping he’d get the idea of what you want. “Wish we’d done this a while ago.” 

A playful smile on his rosy features, Sylus does understand, leaning forward so his upper body presses against yours. Giving his hips an explorative roll as if to ensure he could still move while checking to see if one of you was close enough to reach your orgasm. Letting out a soft whine, the pressure against your body makes you feel even more of him than before. “As much as I don’t like waiting, this might be one of the few times it was worth the delay.” Framing your head between his arms you swallow, the sight of those veins along his upper arms gets you every time. Licking your lips and unaware you’ve relaxed more as you’re distracted by the thought of running your tongue along those veins and the muscles of his arms. 

This close to your face, Sylus starts to rock his hips just enough to move his cock along your walls. The last time he was this gentle when he fucked you had been the first time, and the similarities weren’t lost on him. Just after a few thrusts, he can feel your walls quivering around him, the trembling of your body under his. Closing his eyes as he focused on how you felt around him for a few breaths, listening to the sound of your pants and the hammering of your heart almost lost to the low slap of skin. 

You don’t know how much longer you can last, your fingers dragging down along the muscles of his back as you arch into him. Seeking more of his skin against your body as your breathing becomes more labored, you’re so close. “Sylus.” Trying to warn him of your oncoming orgasm, but it’s too late. Slamming your eyes shut and gripping his back hard enough to leave crescents where the tips of your fingers are. 

“Fuck.” Hissing through his teeth as he opened his eyes to watch your face as you came around him, keeping that gentle tempo as he fucked you through your orgasm. The blissed out expression on your face made him grin, knowing that look was all because of him. 

As the flood of pleasure passed you hummed, loosening your grip on the meat of his upper back just enough to drag your fingers downward. His skin is just as slick as it was when he stepped out of the shower, allowing your hands to ghost over his skin down to the curve of his ass. Grabbing both cheeks and giving them a squeeze, feeling them clench at the sudden grope. Hissing your name through clenched teeth, opening those crimson orbs you can see how much he’s holding himself back. 

“Don-” 

“Where?” 

Cutting you off the way his face is strained makes sense, the way his whole body is taunt as he tries to hold himself together just a little longer and you feel your heart flutter inside your chest. “Inside.” He doesn’t show any sign of surprise at the world, nodding to let you know he heard you. “Don’t hold back.” Saying what you wanted to moments before, it’s like the floodgates are released as he starts to pistol his hips even faster and harder. 

Practically jackhammering inside of your walls, those heavy balls of his slapping against your ass. One of his hands tangles in your hair, tilting your head so he can smash his lips to yours. A messy sloppy kiss that has you reeling as his tongue plunges into your mouth in time to his cock. Groaning into your mouth as he starts to empty himself inside of you, spurting his cum in the deepest part of your sex. 

The sensation of that warm fluid gushing inside of your walls sends you over the edge again, your final movement curving your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. 

Sylus keeps moving, churning your insides as he keeps pumping into you aware of his seed dripping out of your cunt and between your bodies. As much as he’s thought about this moment now that he’s finally having you bare for the first time it's even better than he had imagined. Slowing his hips after his cock is finally done spurting his release, lifting his head and taking in the sight of your bruised lips. You look as exhausted as he feels, tenderly removing your arms from his neck Sylus leans back, licking his lips at the sight of your folds after his softening length slips from you. Your sex is a drenched mess, a steady stream of his thick cum pouring from your entrance and down to your ass before dripping to the sheets. 

Swallowing as his cock twitches, growing hard again. “Sylus?” Moaning his name as you rub your face, pushing part of your hair back away from your slick skin. 

“Yes, Sweetie?” 

“I think I need another shower.” He starts to chuckle, giving his head a shake because you’ve clearly forgotten how you used the last of the water even before he got his shower in. 

“How about a bit of cuddling, hm? Since someone used all the water earlier the best I can offer is a damp cloth in a little bit.” Teasing you as he moves to lay down beside you, aware of the sweat clinging to both of your bodies but wanting to feel your body along his even if it didn’t help him cool down. 

“Fuck.” Sylus just laughs all the harder as you realize the predicament you placed yourself in. 

Later after you’re both dressed again outside on the terrace and you’re tucked against his side Sylus finds himself looking up at the stars while you snore away. Thinking back to the conversation about what he once had been, and how that monster would have never been as gentle as he had been with you today. You don’t belong in his world, but he’ll be damned if he gave you up now. His hand gripping your shoulder a little harder, tomorrow he’ll take you back to the airport with just the memory of this afternoon to keep him going through the coming days. 

Masterlist

[shotmrmiller]

kinktober: gunplay (ghoap x reader) cw: the tiniest of dub-con if you squint 1.8k of this foolishness and im pretty sure i lost the plot somewhere but in my defense, guns don't interest me

When you wake, you notice that Ghost isn’t in the tent. His bedroll neatly rolled up and put away in its usual spot and by the looks of things, he's been gone for quite some time. You sit up, the morning light filtering through the tent's fabric— the soft, diffused glow creating gentle shadows on the ground.

Outside, the air is crisp and sweet, dew still fresh on the grass, damp beneath your bare feet. Soap's lone mare is tied to the hitching post, tail flicking lazily as she eats off the hay net.

The campsite is quiet except for the chirping of birds and Soap's deep, growling snores coming from behind you. Ghost isn't here. Ghost isn't here. The thought bounces around in your skull, heart loud in your ears as the realization begins to sink in.

You could get away, slip away unnoticed from these two who've kept you as their reluctant companion since they wrangled you up in a rowdy saloon a couple of towns back with your hand deep in someone else's pocket. "Behave and we won't give ya up for the meager bounty yer worth." Or worse. The three of you knew no one would miss you, no family or friends to claim the body if you ended up face down on a riverbank.

It’s now or never. Freedom stands in front of you in a glossy, white coat and a braided mane, but being Soap’s horse, even approaching her will be a gamble. You'll just have to risk getting bucked off and trampled on.

When you go back inside to gather the few belongings you've got, you spot Soap's gun belt in all its worn leather glory lying in a tangled heap in the corner, revolvers still snug in their holsters. He must've gotten in late from town, the reward for the bounty he turned in last night traded in for hooch.

A mistake. His costly mistake. And a chance to ride his mare relatively unharmed. Your fingers tremble as they wrap around the handle, the ingrained symbol digging into your palm as you tighten your grip. You may not be a gunslinger with the fastest draw in the West, but you do know what end to point at someone.

But Soap's a bounty hunter and a damn good one. His reflexes are fast— faster than they should be with his dense, muscular build.  You've seen him close gaps with an unnatural speed that’s left even the toughest men reeling. He's a relentless force of pursuit when he wants to be and keeping him at a distance is a losing game, especially when you've no prior experience using a gun. Your only option is to corner him, limit his options. Every man bends the knee to power, and right now, you've got it in your clammy hand.

You straddle him, knees planted firmly on either side of his lower ribs, and press the barrel onto the left side of his jaw. Incredible, not even a hitch in his breathing, as if you're not sitting on him with your full weight. Fisting the front of his union shirt, you tug, the sharp, sudden sting of his chest hair being pulled taut waking him out of his deep sleep.

His bleary eyes snap open, blinking away any traces of sleep within moments, the new day's light catching the edges of his irises, making them gleam with an almost otherworldly brightness as they sweep the tent for any real danger.

Your breathing turns ragged once they land on you, satisfied, a wolfish grin tugging at the corner of his lips, revealing a hint of teeth. Dread claws at your gut, your nerves rattled, but you meet his gaze head-on. There is no room for hesitation, for doubt, not when the man you've got pinned with his own weapon is more touched in the head than Ghost is.

"I ken I'm handsome but all ye ‘ad t'do was ask, hen. I'm achin' fer the hair o' the hound if ye got any, though." His tone gives away nothing, his body completely lax. Even the rise and fall of his chest is steady, slow. You know better than to believe he isn't waiting on you to make the next move to retaliate, so you don't move. Neither of you do.

"You'll take me to town and you'll leave me there. Compared to the other folk you rope up and dump at the Sheriff's feet, I'm worth nothing." You'll make yourself scarce, move to a different state, maybe. A new life, a decent one. Honest work.

His smile widens, the puckered scar on his chin stretching. "Didnae think to take my girl? She's righ' there, saddle 'n all." Soap must think you daft.

"I want to disappear without drawing a target on my head large enough for you to see from across state lines." He would've hunted you down for sport, at that point. Soap blinks once, thrice, and then you have a solid weight pushing on your back, sudden and unexpected, forcing your upper body forward, your shoulders hunching in reflex.

The very familiar scent of earth and mildly ripe sweat sends a shiver licking up your spine, locking every notch firmly into place. Why you hadn't heard him arrive at camp or open the flaps to the tent is now irrelevant. Ghost is here now and you've nowhere to run, definitely not with Soap grabbing onto the soft of your waist, tethers made of human flesh and bone.

The weathered leather of his glove feels unexpectedly soft as his fingers curl around your trembling hand. "If you're gonna threaten ‘im, ya gotta do it proper," he mutters, breath warm against the shell of your ear. His voice is a low, rolling rumble, the kind he takes when calming his panicked horse.

"Easy now, settle down, loosen your arm a little." It does nothing to soothe you, Ghost looming larger than the gun in your grip, making it feel almost insignificant— a mere prop in the face of his overwhelming presence and the voice in your head screams at you to bare your neck, submit, and hope he goes for your jugular quickly, death seemingly a better choice than whatever game he’s making you play. "Open up, Johnny."

He does so readily, a transparent string of saliva stretching between his top and bottom teeth. Ghost's denim-clad thighs bracket yours as he settles comfortably behind you, his barrel chest engulfing the entirety of your back with space to spare.

Soap lies there with his tongue out like a dog on a hot, summer's day, mouth open wide enough for you to see the ridges and grooves of his molars. Ghost forcibly moves your hand, metal scraping against Soap's stubble with a coarse, gritty sound.

“Lie still Johnny, ya hear?” his pointer finger hovering over the trigger. The lump that’s risen to your throat makes breathing hard, each swallow a struggle. You never intended to fire a shot, just hoped the threat of life and death would be enough to make things go your way. 

“W-wait,” you gurgle out but Ghost’s hand only tightens around yours. 

“Can’t get cold feet now, sweet’eart, not when Soap’s southern blood is pumpin’ ‘cause a you.” His-? You take notice of it then, the rigid swelling between your legs, pushing up into your center. As if to drive the point home, Soap bucks his hips while pulling you down, making the inseam of your pants brush against your pearl. 

“Oh-,” he does it again, and again, the leaden lump of dread that had once anchored itself in your belly begins to melt away, becoming an insistent ache that quickens your heartbeat and warms your veins, a mellow heat radiating from your core outward.

And then two things happen at once. 

Soap takes the pistol’s barrel into his mouth, slightly pursing his lips as he creates a seal around it, and his cheeks gently hollow as he bobs his head forward and back, and Ghost slowly weaves his unoccupied hand south, under your jeans and underwear, the roughened tips of his fingers quickly finding what you’ve been forced to neglect for months. 

Soap grunts, a gravelly resonant sound— rich and full— when you dig your nails into the meat of his chest as Ghost jerks erratic little circles on your puffy clit, sending shockwaves through your stomach, each wave headier than the last. 

“Can’t let ‘im ‘ave all the fun, eh?” The pressure on your waist is enough to ache, your flesh already throbbing beneath Soap’s hands, and the closer you get to the precipice, the harder they squeeze. 

Metal clacks against tooth every time your body tenses, muscles constrict, unable to keep your arm steady even with Ghost’s iron grip over your own. Soap’s a slobbering mess, spit dribbling down his chin, pistol glossy with it as he sucks on it as if it were a man’s cock instead.

(Maybe he wants it to be.) 

A couple of hiccups claw up your throat as the sticky, wet sounds of Soap’s mouth get drowned out by the shrill ringing in your ears as you teeter on the sharpened edge, Ghost’s pace on you turning frantic, almost violent, and—

“Keep those pretty eyes on Johnny, he’s been dreamin’ of lookin’ at ya in the face while you come.”

Ghost tossing the gun aside, metal skidding across the floor, and you’re coming apart with Soap’s tongue in your mouth, swallowing your every gasp and moan.

It tastes like the lubricant he uses to clean his gun. Metallic. Tangy. Slightly acrid.

You’re barely able to draw in a breath when Ghost is already tugging your pants off, waistband coming to settle snugly right below your arse, exposing only what he needs, a couple of fingers gliding along your folds, curling right at your entrance.

But he doesn’t do what you expect; for him to sink into cunt, fill it to the brim, distended until you’ve got tears clumping your eyelashes and blood on your tongue. 

(It’s been a very long time since you’ve last laid with a man, and not one has ever been as big as he in stature.)

Instead, he takes Soap’s bare length in one giant paw, using your creamy slick for better friction, and ruts his own heavy cock against it until they’re both spurting the warm spend Ghost crams into your needy hole with two fingers.

“‘M not fuckin’ you, not after your stupid little stunt,” he says as if he’s talking about the weather, and you’re not sure if laughing will stop the hysterical sob about to slither past your trembling lips. 

Soap stares up at you with a heavy-lidded gaze, content, satiated unlike you, and pinches your cheek with his fingers. “Next time ye want tae threaten a person—,” his voice peters off, and you can feel Ghost wiping his hand on the back of your shirt before reaching for Soap’s pistol and pressing a button, the cylinder dropping open.

Empty. Every single chamber is hollow, like the empty sockets of a honeycomb. “Make sure it’s loaded, sweet’eart.”

Un. fucking. Believable.

[piggycyberwarrior]

Summary: After Task Force 141 got a hint that you gave important information to their enemy- the boys do not hesitate to chain you up and give you a taste of hell. You on the other hand are innocent but they do not believe you

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Platonic Task Force 141! x Fem!Reader (Simon Ghost Riley x Reader) a/n: pretty proud of that ngl.. enjoy guys love you!

Warnings: uhm this whole fic is basically a warning. Torture; Blood; Mental Health; Angst angst angst not proof read

genre: ANGST

+ 1,6k words

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6

You thought you were going insane.

Maybe you already were, but it was no suprise- seeing the circumstances you were in. Arms stretched uncomfortably backwards and up- chains rubbing your wrists painfully raw. The stress position Soap put you in wasn't easy peasy lemonsqueezy.

Tears brimming in your eyes at the thought. You felt fucking betrayed. You were fucking betrayed, for gods sake! by your own team- the people you cried with- the people that you loved more than yourself- the people you called your family. That one man you took a bullet for.

Fuck all that bullshit.

Those were the same people that didn't believe you when things got rocky. When some pricks pointed their fingers at you- they immediately treated you as an enemy. The same people that chained you up. The same man that made you fucking blind on one eye

Everything was a lie, apparently.

The cell you were in was shady- you didn't expect something different- i mean you just served the military for many years and did everything for your country- of course you didn't deserve something more decent.

In the end you didn't care. Just waited.

When Gaz interrogated you- you kept your mouth shut. What should you do? Lie? Fuck no, you had so much self respect left, even in this dehumanizing situation.

of course your facade broke often times- you were only human after all. And it hurt- you were in this situation before- tortured by your enemies knowing that you would probably outlive them anyway as your team would rip them apart in a few days.

But now- being here- seeing how your 'friends'- your family- spat at you with nothing more than hate made you feel even more miserable- knowing, that no one will safe you this time.

You cried- having panick attacks deep into countless nights-being triggered by any small sound that wasn't coming from you or that rat in the corner of the room. Yelling at them- telling them that you didn't do shit. They didn't believe you.

Spiraling deep in your thoughts- shoulders sore and numb hands from the stress position- still tasting a faint trace of your own blood-

the sensory of the dried up blood on your cheek was uncomfortable at the beginning- cracking everytime you opened your mouth- but it quickly got kicked to the bottom of your worries as Price's wodden bat flew into your face yesterday- tooth flying onto the ground as you spat the crimson liquid at his feet- earning another strike from your Captain.

Your Saliva turning pink with the blood, sticking to your chin- slowly dripping down- having no free hand to wipe it off.

.

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.

You were here for about 1 and a half weeks now- how'd you know that? because you could hear the guards mutter something behind that steal door.

You shivered, suffering from hypothermia, a consequence of being almost naked in this shithole. Simon himself stripped you down- ignoring your pleas and protests.

Simon.

The man you did everything for, took a bullet for, cared for and slept with. He was the love of your life- or so you thought.

You were never scared of Simon. Since the first day you met him- you were kinda drawn to that giant of a man. Always spawning in his near with hearts in your eyes- Soap always made fun of you- but he found it cute neverthless, he could see that Simon didn't hate you.

You stitched him up- knew his fears (being a therapists daughter was quite a help for having deep convos), you knew of his past- even if it took you years to finally break his many iron walls down

You saw his face- kissed his scars and showered him with your time and love- giving him your all- even your body.

You weren't in a relationship- but everybody knew that Simon 'Ghost' Riley liked you. Even if you didn't tell anybody from the Force.

In the end it seemed not be enough, as the same man nearly strangled you to death down here. At first you were desperate, scared- but you stopped pleading a long time ago.

.

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.

heavy footsteps shook you out of your trance- spiraling thoughts stopping for a mere second as you looked into his stone cold eyes.

Balaklava on his scarred face- making you inhale sharply- heart throbbing at his sight. The black paint around his eyes made them pierce through the dark even more.

The same paint you applied more than once onto his unique face. he looked beautiful in your eyes. Even after everything that happened.

You're in here since a few nights.- Clothes starting to hang loosely around your body- having not eaten in days.

"Simon-" you croaked out- voice not cooperating as it should- making you tear up. When did everything turned out to be like that? This nightmare? You flinched a bit- chains clinking softly at your slight movement when he came towards you- still not speaking.

He stared. Stared at your weak frame. The dark hole you were chained into- being in a constant state of fear- Anxiety pulling and clawing at your nerves.

You gritted your teeth- looking to the side with a defeated huff. Tears prickling in your eyes once more- threatening to fall as he watched you like you were a kicked stray dog. Maybe you were in their eyes.

"I-" you croaked out once more "I didn't do it, Simon, i swear" you whispered into the dimmly lit room- Still not looking at him. "I swear to god Simon, I didn't.." you weeped in silence as he just looked "Fuck why should I betray you!!" you screamed in frustration at his figure- tears falling as he only left- leaving you in complete darkness- letting you cry to yourself till you eventually passed out.

.

Not even two day passed before he bursted through the iron door again- the loud sound ripping you out of your unconsciousness before he angrily grabbed you by your collar- hate flickering in those eyes that once held nothing but adoration for you.

"You fuckin' liar" he seethed through gritted teeth- behind that mask. Pushing you into the wall behind you- your head knocking against the brick wall with such a force that made you wince.

You could feel his anger. And you felt the danger that radiated from the man you gave your heart to.

His hands coming up to press against your jugular with a firm grip- picking you up a few inches into the air- chains clinking again. "Y'think you hav' it in you to lie into my fuckin' face" he growled while pressing down harder- you could feel yourself getting more lightheaded- gasping for air- choking for oxygen.

"Plea' Simon" you begged inbetween small gasps- scared what he will do to you. Hands tied together, wiggling in his painful hold like a suffocating fish- legs kicking to get him away from you- it worked- you gasped, trying to get in as much air as you could while your built up saliva ran down your chin-

he let you go for a second before his fist collided with your face. Hard- knocking the air out of your lungs once more "Jus' tell us the truth" he huffed, before hitting again- at first it hurt and then it burned. Your nose cracked under his fists-

Making you see stars and breath heavily before he took the knife out you gifted him for his birthday. Both your names engraved in it-

"'t will be easier for you" he said before popping the knife out of its sheath. "No, Simon" you cried out- whilst seeing the blade. "You don't have to do this" you gasped as he came dangerously close.

"No,no,no!!" you protested as he teared down your clothing, leaving you in a bra and your underwear. Feeling helpless as he teared down your clothes- ignoring your protest. The coldness of the room let goosebumps arise on your skin almost immediately.

He was quiet. That wasn't a good sign. You waited- staring at him, pulling at your chains as he looked at the blade. Fist tightening as he saw the little heart that was engraved into the hilt. Betrayal flushed his senses as he pushed the knife into your upper leg- making you scream in return.

Twisting the knife- hearing your agony but not stopping- he quickly hit you into your left eye socket with the hilt of the knife to shut you up. he didn't want to hear your screams.

Even if he didn't wanted to admit it- he was also teared apart- but his need to let his anger out was stronger - all the time he spent with a fucking liar- gave you his fucked up heart. All for you to be a fucking snake- a traitor.

He had to do his job- protect his family.

Another jab to the eye- hearing your muffled cries echo across the room- making you see red- the burning sensation was an ugly one. You couldn't see on that eye anymore.

"I fuckin' wish I could just kill you" he seethed before leaving you there in the dark- all beat up and bloody- head throbbing and surely a broken nose- making it hard to breath.

.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

.

You waited since then. Waiting for death to come. Waiting for Ghost to end it- but of course he never came back since then. Your wounds were starting to inflame- everything hurt and burned. Your eye swelling almost shut.

They all tortured you. Johnny, Kyle, John and Simon.

But they forgot something important. You were known for being patient. A fucking patient and stubborn woman. You waited. Yes you sometimes protested, and kicked and screamed and insulted them- but you neverthless waited for the day.

The day they finally see that they wronged an innocent. The day you would hurt them. Seek revenge.

Fucking. Revenge.

-

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[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART SEVENTEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, degrading, mentions of death/blood, dove is called some nasty words, please heed warnings for this chapter masterlist a/n: girlbossed a little too hard and finished the chapter a day early. posting this after my 14 hour shift with nothing but hope and dreams. this chapter is a long one, i think the longest one so far, so have fun :p

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Up close, Graves was even more sinister than imagined. It was as if you were living in your own nightmare come to life, with beady eyes crinkling back at you as a curled smile stretched over his face. Adorned in all black from head to toe, with the only spouts of color being the mess of dark blonde atop his head, nearly covered by the old, leather pirate hat.

His skin was deathly pale, a feat you knew to be from his reaping sins. To take a life in return for a piece of his—a soul bind.

If he weren’t such a sick man, you’d dare say he’d been handsome, if it weren’t for the look of rotting to the core. His personality did no justice, something cocky and mighty. He knew exactly how to play his game, and he played it well.

In your turmoil, you dared to wonder if all of this was indeed another nightmare. Perhaps you were still asleep, stuck in an endless loop until Soap or Gaz awoke you as they always did; but with a sharp pinch on your thigh beneath the thin covers of Price’s bedspread, the world remained at ease.

This one wouldn’t be easy to get out of.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Graves mused, smile so wide you worried the corners would crack and bleed. You wished you could see him writhe like a helpless roach beneath your shoe. “Why the long face?”

“How—” You swallowed, fisting the sheets. “How are you here?”

Graves stood straight, glancing around the room. He pretended to ponder, holding his arms up to shrug. “I let myself in.”

Your eyes followed his every move as he slowly stepped throughout Price’s quarters, taking it in. You sat as still as a statue, completely frozen in place. The sound of his heavy boots along the wood floors rang alarm bells.

The air in the room fell icy cold, rising goosebumps on your skin. There was that frigid chill that felt as if you’d just stepped into a slaughterhouse, a hint of decay tickling your nostrils.

This was the feel of death you’d always felt, lingering behind you, watching. He’d always been there, even if only in your mind.

“Where is the Captain?” you asked, attempting to make your voice firm. Show no weakness—it was the very thing you’d been taught since your first day on the ship. You hoped Price would be proud that you remembered.

Graves’ eyebrows raised and while his smile remained, it only seemed to glimmer with excitement when the question was asked, as if you asked a dog if he wanted a bone.

“He truly has you on a leash,” he snickered, finding something amusing in all of it. “You’re like their little bitch, aren’t you?”

Your blood ran hot at the demeaning nature his words brought, but you knew better. They were for show, something to make him appear taller. If you fell for it, you’d only be digging a deeper grave for yourself.

“No,” you muttered, eyes narrowing. “I am a pirate, just as them.”

Graves barked out a laugh, one that made your ears bleed. It was meant to deplete your confidence, poisoned with arrogance.

“Is that right?” he asked with a shit-eating grin. “A pirate, are you?”

Graves stalked towards you, agonizingly slow, stopping when his knees bumped the side of the cot. He leaned down so his face was level with yours, empty eyes peering deep within your soul. His breath reeked of death and despair, nearly knocking you unconscious.

“I’d like to test that.”

His icy hand wrapped around your bicep, hauling you out of the bed. With a yelp, you stumbled to your feet, bare of their shoes. The world beneath your soles felt foreign now, ever since Soap had given you your gift and you’d never take them off unless you were falling asleep.

The grip was tight, causing your heartbeat to thump through your muscles angrily. Your skin under his hand paled from the sheer force.

Graves tugged you along as you fought to resist him, squirming and attempting to plant your feet to the floor. Without the help of your shoes compared to his unruly strength, your fight was deemed useless. He continued dragging you, so much so you could feel little splinters begin to dig into your soles and invoke dull pangs of pain.

Fear filled your body from head to toe, your heart pounding against your rib cage. A lump filled your throat, coated with anxiety. Your mind filled with millions of thoughts, smothering any confidence you previously had and replacing it with the idea of death.

Was this where all would end? Your crew was one of the most feared among the seas, a healthy bounty placed over their heads. But there would always be one person above, and that person was Graves.

Every kick, bump, resist was fruitless as Graves hauled you to the door. What lay beyond it terrified you, images of your men dead flashing before your eyes.

Coated in their own bloodbaths, bodies laid limp amongst the floors of their own homes, sprawled out as if they meant nothing. Oh, you couldn’t bear it. You’d have to go, too—you’d have nothing left.

When Graves opened the door, you weren’t sure if the sight was any better.

It was dark, the moon only a sliver in the sky, granting no room for light. A single lantern was all that was left to cast orange shadows, its fire flickering in a dance for a way out.

Your crew was lined shoulder to shoulder, on their knees in a submissive front, hands bound with thick rope behind their backs. Graves’ men, his Shadows, held the barrel of their guns to each of their heads.

Though the sight was an improvement from what you initially prepared yourself for, it was far from good. It was bordering those images, a glimpse into what could be a massacre.

The moment you were out of Price’s quarters, Graves let go of you, shoving you. You lost your balance, tumbling to your side, your head slamming into the deck. Pain blossomed under your skull and you hissed in pain.

“Dove?” you heard one of them call out. Your head spun, making it hard to figure out who it was.

A heavy blow landed on your side where you lay, and you wheezed, Graves’ boot unexpected. It kept you in place, applying pressure to guarantee you wouldn’t try to flee and fight back.

“Get the fuck off of her,” Price growled. You could recognize it, filled with a burning venom that dared to kill anyone that was in its crossfire. “This has nothin’ to do with her.”

“It’s all to do with her,” Graves spat, digging the toe of his boot into your rib cage. His previous cockiness had melted away, revealing his boiling rage. “Isn’t that right, dove?”

Graves lifted his boot, granting you a brief moment of relief before it slammed back down. It knocked the air right out of your lungs, leaving you croaking out a plea to stop.

You coiled in on yourself, curling into a ball in attempts to lessen the damage. It did nothing to stop his boot from weighing on your side. The pain felt like nothing you’d experienced before, and you were sure you felt a bone crunch.

“Dove,” Gaz called out, frantic. He tried leaning forward to get a glimpse of your face, to search for your eyes, but the barrel of the gun only pressed deeper into the back of his skull in warning. “Dove, it’s okay. Just listen to my voice, alright? I’m right here.”

Your eyes were widened with fear, chest heaving to catch the breaths that were stolen from you. You couldn’t move, frozen in place, even as Gaz called out for you with the threat of a bullet through his head.

“I don’t know what you’re plannin’, Graves,” Price snarled, “but this is between us.”

Graves laughed diabolically, throwing his head back. It only made everything much more tense.

“Isn’t she apart of you now?” Graves humored, cocking his head. His fingers drummed along the gun in its holster on his hip. “If I’m not mistaken, she’s a pirate. I believe those were your words, Price.”

The realization that Graves knew had you going cold. The closer he got, the stronger the connection became.

“What the hell is it ye want?” Soap asked through gritted teeth. His eyes were darting back and forth between your crumpled form and Graves. “S’always somethin’ with ye, aye?”

Graves eyed Soap, a glint in his gaze. There was something unfamiliar in it, as if he held a personal grudge towards the man in question.

“There is something I want,” Graves agreed, letting out a dramatic sigh. He tapped at the gun once again, staring up at the sky in thought. “I think dove here knows exactly what that is.”

Graves dug his boot once again, peering down at you as if you were scum. You couldn’t stop the small whimper from the agony drumming in your side.

“Go on, dove,” Graves taunted, grinning. “Tell them.”

“I don’t know,” you panted. You were unfocused, eyes staring at the old floor from where your head rested.

You tried recalling what it is he could want, anything at all, but nothing was becoming clear. You scavenged through the deepest parts of your brain for even a simple clue, but the blows had made you dazed.

“I swear, I’ll fuckin’ kill you—”

“You do know,” Graves repeated, cutting off the Captain. His tone grew annoyed. “Think real hard, dove.”

“I don’t know,” you cried, shoulders beginning to shake. All the built up confidence to fight back had vanished into thin air. Now, you felt like a scared little girl, begging for mercy.

Graves’ boot lifted, then returned back down. A string of curses were thrown his way from your crew, who were thrashing in the binds, unable to aid you under the lineup of guns to their heads.

You felt wetness cascade down your cheeks, dampening your skin and falling down to the side of your head from the angle you laid. It was then you realized you were crying, embarrassingly so.

Only mere hours ago you were deemed a pirate, and yet at the start of war, you fell apart like a damsel.

“The telescope,” Ghost said, voice low. It was the first he’d spoken, only sitting there silently as you were beaten down. His head hung low, as if ashamed, though the darkness in his eyes was enough to cast doom across entire continents. “He’s talkin’ about the telescope.”

You blinked away the tears, eyes burning. Realization dawned on you the moment Ghost spoke. Through your huddled position, you tried to tilt your chin down to meet his eye. As if thinking the same thing, he lifted his head, connecting your gazes. You could see that familiar apology pooling out of him, expressing everything he needed to say.

Washed away to land and shore,

shall be the looking glass for ocean eyes.

The telescope you found for Gaz was an innocent gesture. The sight of it called out to you, as if meant to be owned by you. If you would’ve known it was Graves it was calling, you would’ve thrown it into the deep sea so it could never be found again.

“So he speaks,” Graves mused sarcastically.

Ghost broke contact first, eyes boring into Graves. He looked murderous, plotting his own bloodbath with just a simple look. The dim light of the single lantern did nothing to lessen the ominous glow, only highlighting it.

“Don’t fuckin’ talk to him,” Soap hissed, scowling. The look of pure disgust was such a contrast to his normal, boyish grins.

Graves paid no mind to him, stuck in a contest with Ghost. The two of them had a dark force swirling between them, one that even outside made the air heavy and suffocating.

“A point for your bravery, Ghost,” Graves sighed dramatically, breaking his stare. He looked between each and every man, sparing you no glance while his boot remained in place. “My telescope. Give it to me, and I’ll let her go.”

You instantly shifted your eyes to look at Gaz, who seemed to be struggling with a decision. You knew why he was having a hard time—you gifted the telescope to him, unknowing of who it truly belonged to. It was something he treasured, something he didn’t want to let go of.

“I have it,” Gaz said lowly, head bowing. “It’s in my quarters. I’ll take you to it.”

Graves sucked his teeth, feigning pity. He shook his head, hand fully resting on the gun at his hip. “Not going to work on me, Gaz. I’m quite capable of getting it myself. You sit tight, aye?”

Gaz stiffened, expression growing grim. Nevertheless, he said nothing, deciding silence was the best contender for a fight bound to end in loss.

Graves gestured for the man behind Price to fetch the telescope from Gaz and Soap’s shared quarters. Price didn’t tear his eyes away from Graves once, even as the Devil of the Seas took out his own gun and pointed it right at Price’s forehead.

He pressed the barrel of the gun into Price’s forehead, indenting the skin. It was a snug fit, a perfect shot for Graves if he wished to end things the easy way.

Graves didn’t like it easy. He liked it fun.

“Scared we’ve caught on to your trail, aye?” Price bluffed, voice gravelly and malicious. “That’s why you came out here like a fuckin’ mutt, hidin’ in the storm until you found the right time to ambush us?”

“You have your dove to blame,” Graves replied nonchalantly, rubbing his boot back and forth along your side. The pressure had you sucking air through your teeth, eyes clenching shut. “She might be your new toy, but she’s just as much a mutt as I am.”

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth,” Price snarled, body shaking with feverish rage. If he could pounce on Graves, you knew he would.

“Looks like you finally grew some balls, Captain,” Graves snickered, pulling back the hammer of the gun. It resounded a loud click, which translated to a warning bell in Price’s favor. “Such anger. That anger has never worked for you, Price. It didn’t work for Ghost—it won’t work for her.”

Price let out an animalistic growl, his lips pulling back in a sneer. You’d seen the Captain angry, and you’d seen him under the guise of a scary, ominous pirate who would kill any innocent bystander that stood in his way.

This was entirely different. This was personal. A build up. This was a storm that had been coming for ages, and you were only toeing the edges.

The Shadow returned, holding the telescope you’d gifted Gaz. It shimmered in the lantern’s glow, glinting its gold details and showing it off. It felt like a goodbye.

“I’d be real careful from now on, Graves,” Price warned. It was the first you ever heard him speak so menacingly, like the demon inside of him was erupting with a stream of hot lava filled with nothing but spewing hatred. “When I find you, I’ll fuckin’ kill you myself. String you up on my sails until you’re dry, toss you into the ocean to the sharks. I’ll take pleasure in watchin’ you burn until there’s nothin’ left but ash and dust.”

Graves took the telescope from his Shadow’s hand, inspecting it. The words Price spoke clearly struck a nerve, for the arrogant grin had vanished, replaced with a gloomy, threatened expression.

“Hm,” Graves huffed, letting his gun fall and placing it back in its holster. He signaled for his men to follow suit, and you watched as all weapons dropped. “I await the day that happens, Captain. Until then, keep your mutt on a leash, aye?”

Graves made no effort to untie the crew, leaving them bound as he gathered his men to walk the plank connecting the two ship. A long, woden plank that creaked under the weight, one od wish you could kick from its balance and send them flying into the dark sea.

The moment was brutally silent as they left. Nobody moved a muscle until Graves was on his ship, the plank pulled from its placement, and the skull flag waved goodbye as they set sail into the pit of the night.

Time stood still, but the second Graves and his crew were hidden in the waves, all hell broke loose. Price and Gaz worked together to unbind each other with their backs to one another, frantic to be released. Ghost sat silently, eyes staring into the floorboards as if they’d speak to him.

“Say somethin’, dove,” Soap begged, scooting on his knees to be by your side.

As if the dam broke, you began to cry once more, heartbreaking sobs coming right from your core. You curled up tighter into your ball, your hand resting on your side as if it would magically ease the pain.

“It hurts,” you replied, voice cracking.

You’d stayed strong up until that point. Now, you couldn’t hold up your front.

You were scared. You felt more helpless than ever. You couldn’t remain strong for the sake of pretend anymore. Everything hurt, and Graves’ presence shook you to your very core.

“I know,” he cooed. He made a frustrated noise when he struggled against the binds. “I know, dove. We’re right here, alright?”

It felt strange, being on the other side of the spectrum. You were used to being the one to aid people in their injuries, but now, it was you being comforted. You couldn’t grasp what your life had become.

Price was released from his binds, quickly helping Gaz slip out of his. While Gaz made quick work to move to work on Ghost, Price was by your side in an instant.

One hand rested on your hip, turning your body towards him while the other found your face, resting his palm on it. His eyes were filled with worry when you faced him and he urgently wiped at your tears with his thumb.

“Dove,” he breathed in relief, his heart aching at the sight of you so broken. This was his fault. “You’re okay, I have you.”

You whimpered when he shifted so he could slide his arms beneath you, one under your shoulders and the other in the bend of your knees. The movement flared pain all over again, and Price murmured apologies, unsure of what to do.

He hurried to his quarters, his men following closely behind like scared dogs with their tails between their legs. Gaz held open the door, and you only caught a glimpse of his guilt-stricken expression before you were ushered in.

Price carefully slid you on to his cot, wincing every time you whimpered or cried. The pain felt excruciating, your breathing quick and labored.

“She needs a medic,” Soap stressed.

“She is a medic,” Gaz reminded, resting his hands on the edge of the cot so he could lean over and inspect your face. “We have no help besides her.”

“Well, she can’t treat herself, ye fuckin’ oaf,” Soap snipped, shooing him away from your space. “Cap, she needs to get checked. She can’t even breathe properly!”

Your head began to pound from the sheer loudness that filled the room. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will away the ache while simultaneously trying to correct your breathing.

You knew well enough that there was something shattered or broken. A rib, though small in theory, but dreadfully painful without the correct medicines. Not to mention the amount of force Graves had used—it was pure hell.

Price was silent, as was Ghost, the two of them sharing a conversation with just a look. There was an understanding shared, and Price gently shoved Gaz and Soap aside, replacing them.

He mimicked Gaz’s previous stance, leaning on the bed. His hand came to brush a stray tear away, frowning embedded in his mouth.

“Tell me what to do, dove,” he said softly. “I’ll do whatever it is.”

You sniffled, hand shaking where they rested on your side. You shook your head, nearly deranged from the shock and horror of it all, unable to snap out of it.

“I—I can’t fix it on my own, Captain,” you quivered, lips trembling. “It hurts.”

Price nearly broke, filled with guilt. He glanced behind him at Ghost, who quickly looked away, hands balling into fists.

“I know,” he assured calmly, brushing his finger along your cheek where he wiped the tear away. “We’ll fix it, aye? You just have to sit tight until we can. Can you do that for us, dove?”

Though you knew the wait would be cruel—a slow healing process until you could receive proper care—you found yourself nodding shamelessly, instantly trusting Price and his promises.

Price nodded along with you, giving your cheek a comforting pinch. “Attagirl,” he praised, calming your nerves.

“I’ll fuckin’ gut him,” Soap muttered, jaw pulled tight. “He’s fuckin’ dead.”

Gaz reached up to grip Soap’s nape, tugging at his hair. Soap threw him a glare, one Gaz promptly ignored, turning his attention to you.

“Listen to Cap, birdie,” Gaz encouraged warmly. “We’ll get you all fixed up. You won’t even know you’re hurtin’.”

Price had a look of hesitation when you caught his eye. You furrowed your eyebrows, frowning in confusion before he spoke again, causing you to grow uncomfortable.

“We need to check it first, dove,” he said apologetically. “If you don’t feel well with all of us bein’ here, you can pick who you prefer. No hard feelin’s, hm?”

The idea that one, if not all, had to see you undressed in order to inspect the damage was one that made you a bit dazed. You’d never been seen beneath your raggedy clothes in the village, and the same applied for your time on the ship. It felt sacred, like your vulnerability was on the line, but you had to remind yourself that it was purely medical—you’d done it plenty of times when in practice at your old home.

“It—it is fine, just… just turn away, yes?” you pleaded, unable to meet any of them in the eye.

You heard a round of shuffling, only seeing Gaz elbow Soap in the corner of your vision. Once you were sure they feasted their eyes upon the old wall, you began to carefully lift your hips, biting your lip to muffle the pained noise that threatened to leave.

The hem of your dress was swiftly pulled up past your thighs, all the way until your torso was exposed. You stopped it beneath your breasts, quick to tug the blanket over your nakedness that remained uninjured and in no need to be checked.

The anxiety that pooled in your stomach left you queasy, but you toughed through it, knowing how important it was. If you had more than a mere fracture, it could become worse over time.

“Okay,” you said quietly, cringing when they turned to take you in. The men did their best to make you feel as at ease as possible, gearing their focus towards the nasty swelling on your side.

You dared to take a peek yourself, fearing for why they were so quiet. What you saw was ugly—swollen and puffy, beaten to the point it was already turning purple and blue. It was tender to the touch, even more so without clothing as a barrier.

The worst was the gnarly, black veins that spouted out like roots, dipping deep into the new bruising. It was inhuman, something completely out of the ordinary. You knew it was Graves’ dirty work, and it reminded you of when Ghost had cut his finger in the kitchen and his blood turned black, vanishing into thin air.

When you shifted your eyes from your injury, you searched for Ghost’s, who was hard-stuck on the veins. His body was tense, a darkness swirling in his irises.

“Ghost?” Soap tried, nudging the brute lightly. “Any idea what that is?”

Ghost glanced over to Soap before returning to your side, taking in the sight. “Could be anythin’,” he muttered, unsure. “I don’t know what all he’s capable of. For all we know, it could already be infected.”

“Infected?” you asked, a worried chill racking through you.

Price reached out a careful hand to spread his fingertips along the veins. You choked on a gasp at the immediate discomfort, face scrunching up into a wince.

“We’re goin’ to a doctor,” Price nearly growled, taking his hand away. “I don’t care where. The moment we spot land, we’re goin’.”

“We still have bounties on our head, Cap,” Gaz reminded with a frown. “We can’t just go anywhere. It’s not the same as shoppin’. If we end up in the wrong place, we might get ourselves in deeper shit.”

“That is a risk I’m willin’ to take,” Price argued, firm in his stance. “If we start nitpickin’ where to go, it might be too late. You’re either in or out.”

The room fell silent as the men stared at their Captain. The answer to them was obvious, though you knew why they hesitated; if they were imprisoned, it would do you no good.

Emotions were high and the clock was ticking. It placed everyone on edge.

“I agree with Price.”

All heads turned to Ghost, who stood with his arms crossed, eyes boring into yours.

“It’s my fault she’s marked. So long as she gets fixed up, I could care less about bein’ thrown into a cell. I’m with Price,” he finished.

“Ghost—” you tried.

“I am quite firm in what I’ve decided,” he interrupted harshly before realizing his mistake, calming himself down. He looked away from you, crossing his arms a bit tighter. “I’m in no mood for arguments.”

You went quiet, watching Ghost turn towards the door and plot his escape. You knew out of everyone, he was affected the most, tormented with sickening guilt for all that’s transpired. You could only imagine how he felt, now that times had grown darker.

“Let him go,” Soap murmured softly, gaining your attention. “He’ll be alright. Let’s just worry ‘bout ye, aye?”

You were torn, but you nodded nonetheless, silently agreeing.

“You’ll stay with me for now,” Price explained. “No use in movin’ you anymore than I have. I’ll get you situated for now, and then you can rest.”

Gaz, Soap, and Price muttered amongst themselves, discussing a brief plan of what to do. The two set off to find more pillows to extend your comfort while Price remained by your side, plopping himself in his chair with a heavy sigh. His elbows rested on its arms, his fingers coming up to rub at his temple.

He looked exhausted, the bags under his eyes becoming more prominent the longer you looked.

“I am sorry, Captain,” you said quietly, eyes glueing to the ceiling.

“What have you got to be sorry for?” he asked, frowning. “Got nothin’ to apologize for, dove. Our worry stems from care.”

“Yes, but,” you paused, gathering the words, “I have caused much trouble since my arrival. Things only seem to be harder for you.”

“Life was hard before you, dove,” he assured, letting his hand fall from his face. “That’s the way it goes. It is to no fault but the world.”

You took in his words, letting them sink in. You hadn’t known a true life of trouble before, the only hardships being your utter loneliness and daily taunts from the local villagers. This was something beyond your knowledge, and you were beginning to understand that there was more to life than simply displeasuring people. There was more than what meets the eye, but there was also light at the end of every tunnel.

“You do not see me as a mere burden?” you asked, and he huffed.

“What have I told you before?” Price pressed in return, tilting his head. “You are one of us. A true pirate, if that is what you’d like.”

“I am far from a pirate,” you scoffed to yourself, ashamed. “I could not even defend myself or any of you.”

“Dove,” Price called out softly. He scooted his chair closer to your bedside, forcing you to turn your head and look at him. “A loss is not always a failure. Some wars are too big to handle on your own. There’s nothin’ wrong with that. Why must you speak so lowly of yourself?”

You stared at him unblinking, studying the furrow of his eyebrows and the curl of his lips, hidden beneath his beard. The worry lines on his forehead showed years of hardship, and you wondered how he managed to live through it if you could barely survive your own smaller ones.

“I have known nothing else,” you confessed bitterly, though not towards him. You were angry, not only with yourself, but at life for dealing its deck of cards in such an unfair way.

“I see,” he hummed, leaning back in his chair. He tapped his fingers along the armrests, getting lost in thought. “It was the same for me as well.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”

“Mhm,” he sighed, picking at the splintering wood of the armrests. “My father was a captain before me. Had the tongue of a devil. Always angry, always cold—treated me like scum, even as a child.”

“I am sorry,” you murmured quietly. Price bristled, frowning.

“That is not the point, dove,” he replied. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the side of the bed, mere inches away from where you laid. You waited patiently for him to continue, keeping your gazes connected to show you were listening. “Some may treat you like a mutt on the street and deem your worth how they please. The only thing that matters is how you take it and how you come out of it.”

It dawned on you what he was implying. It was his way of comforting you, shielding you from your own burdening insecurities that never seemed to escape your mind.

“I could’ve remained angry and bitter, but now I captain my own ship and crew. The same applies for you—you may have experienced cruelty all your life, but you must take the reins on your own worth and decide what it is, dove.”

A blinding warmth shrouded you, like a blanket after being trapped in the icy cold, and you welcomed it with a smile. You’d never known Price to be so well with words, not int he way he was expressing now.

He knew what you needed to hear after being trapped in your own world of darkness, and he provided the light you needed to find your way out—all of them did. A glimmer of hope in a world full of loss.

“I am very thankful you kidnapped me,” you blurted, unable to contain your inner thoughts.

Price laughed, boisterous and loud, a smile washing over his face. It was a lovely sight, one that made your heart pound. Even through your pain, you found solitude in the aftermath, reaching a level of comfort you’d always wished to feel.

“I am happy to have you here despite it,” Price teased warmly. “I can say the same for the rest.”

You laughed, almost immediately regretting it at the shooting pain coursing in your side. He shot you a sympathetic smile, slowly standing from his chair.

“I will let you rest,” he said, giving you a gentle pat to your thigh over the blanket. Your heart jumped at the action, and you repressed it.

“You are not staying?” you asked, deflating.

“Soap and Gaz will be here with some more pillows soon. I must gather a plan so we can get you to a medic as soon as possible.”

It made sense, and you knew it was important. There was no telling what was flowing through the black veins, but your heart longed for more of his presence.

“Just for a moment longer?” you dared to request, voice small.

Price peered down at you from where he stood over you, a hint of surprise flashing on his expression before it softened. He nodded, reaching over to give your hand a gentle squeeze. You held on as long as you could.

“Just a moment then,” he repeated. “I will do it for you.”

You squeezed his hand in return, feeling as if you were on cloud nine. Your feelings were uncertain, but the more you spent with them, the clearer your vision became. It was an inner battle, forcing yourself to push them back in order to protect yourself. Now, though, you decided to allow yourself the comfort, just for a little while.

“Thank you,” you told him, unaware your voice had become a mere whisper. The air between you felt heavy, as if something unspoken was there.

Price glanced down at your hands that remained interlinked before shifting his gaze back at you. The gears in his mind were turning, and just as you were about to ask if it was alright, he beat you.

“I am not an emotional man,” he murmured quietly, seeming just as unsure as you were. “I make very stupid decisions and take paths I shouldn’t take. One of them is tellin’ me to kiss you, and I’m not sure if that’s alright.”

You froze in place, eyes growing wide. You were unable to look away, lost in your own little moment. Everything in you was yelling yes, yes, yes! and it was hard to ignore. You had always been weak in your feelings.

“Gaz tried to when I gifted him the telescope,” you said, unsure of why you did. “I hope that is okay.”

Price broke out into a smile, huffing out a breathy laugh. “So long as he did not beat me to it.”

You released a relieved breath, a shaky smile spreading on your lips. Price did not seem angry, and for that, you grew more enticed for a kiss. While your feelings for the others were all different in their special ways, having Price be the first was not something you could deny. It excited you more than it should.

Before you knew it, Price leaned down, capturing your lips in his own. There was no spark like you’d read in books you’d read at merchant stands when you couldn’t afford them, nor were there fireworks.

Instead, it was a calm sea that smothered you in peace, easing every worry that crowded your mind. They washed away, replaced with a warm buzz.

He was gentle, hand still grasping yours, the other coming to rest beneath your jaw. His skin was hot to the touch, rough from the callouses on his palm.

The moment wasn’t long, and when he pulled away, you wished you could reel him in for more.

“Rest,” he encouraged, his smile brighter than a thousand suns. “We’ll get you fixed up and better before you know it, alright?”

You nodded dumbly, your head empty. You were practically vibrating with excitement, the feel of his lips still tingling on yours.

He stroked his thumb over your cheekbone before pulling back, stepping away from the bed. He gave you a soft farewell, reminding you that the boys will be back soon and to try and sleep until then.

Once he was out of the room, the quiet didn’t bother you. It wasn’t maddening, driving you up a wall, suffocating you with loneliness—it was peaceful and kind, welcoming you with open arms as you slipped into unconsciousness, the images flashing behind your eyelids of the four of them in your life only bringing you true comfort after the storm.

[otto-s-alskling]

TF141 X Hardworker!Reader

"Their Sleepyhead"

You're a hard worker, everyone knows that. God, even Price had to carry you a few times to bring you to bed (and not in *that* way, get your mind out the gutter!) But your insistent attitude of working till you collapse is a trait that the 141 is aware that will never go away, not when they've seen you do it for over three years.

Price

You have your office close to his, connected with an adjoining door which was lucky because you bought your own coffee machine. Majority of the time, you're brewing him a fresh cup of coffee, black with a hint of sugar to cut the full bitterness.

He loves listening to you shuffling and singing next door, sometimes singing back to your songs when duets are playing from your phone but he'd be damn and hide in a hole before he'd let you know that he sings along to you and your velvety voice with his gruff one.

But this also includes him actually hearing you when your head finally thuds down on the desk when you refused to stop working from 5AM till wee hours of the night. He'd peek through the adjoining door first before sighing and picking you up, cradling you close before carrying you out the offices, ignoring looks from the other soldiers still awake late at night. Gaz would immediately walk up to help, opening the doors for Price so he can tuck you into bed, removing your boots before turning off the lamp light. He'd sneak a forehead kiss before closing the door and walking back to the offices, ignoring his racing heartbeat.

Soap

Our Scot is a freaking sweetheart (this is the hill I'll die on.) If he knows Cap isn't in office or in a mission or conference somewhere, you bet your ass he'd delegate himself into keeping company, literally. He'd play on his phone in your office couch, nothing too loud but just enough to be there.

Talks will be nonstop and he'd teach you some Scottish slangs too, much to a certain Skull masked teammate. He'd even teach you traditions and if he had the time and the energy, he'd do your hair into some Scottish Braids. (Look em up, they're GORGEOUS.)

He'd pause from time to time, get a snack or something and he'd come back with something for you too! And if you fell asleep, you bet he'd transfer you over to the couch and find your emergency blanket and tuck you in.

He'd brush your hair out of your face and plant a kiss on your cheek before sitting on the floor next to the couch, just playing on his phone till he fall asleep himself or if he gets hungry and get another snack. He'd wait till you wake up, and not even Ghost can drag him out the room. Someone had to guard the team's Bonnie after all.

Gaz

If you think he wouldn't help out with the paperwork, you'd be fucking wrong. Being the youngest meant you two are the closest, age wise anyways. Would pause halfway on working to show you something in TikTok or play some random playlist on YouTube or Spotify just to break the silence in the room.

He'd being his own snacks, which also includes a big bar of Cadbury. Sometimes Lindt if he got to visit in the nearby city. Work goes faster so he always try to help out on hell week so you wouldn't handle the full brunt of the workload.

If you fall asleep, he'd switch the music to a lullaby or a soft classical music, keeping you asleep as long as he can anyways. Like Soap, he'd transfer you to the couch but he'd push an armchair flush against the couch to block you in from falling like a pseudo bed (or fort or crib. Do people still do this?)

Tucks you in gently and continues his half of the paperwork before joining you on the couch and cuddling you to sleep. He's not one to pass up in getting to sleep in your arms after all.

Ghost

This man trusts with his life. (He'd never say it out loud.) He wasn't really warm with the idea of having a support member in the team, especially one who's specialty ranges from medic to sniper to assistant. Like how is that even possible? So when he realized that you're one of the most hardworking person he'd ever met, respect was earned... And affection.

It was around halfway the second year when he showed his face to you, the heat surge in the office making it annoying to have the mask. He didn't make a fuss so you didn't as well, just working along with him and Price in the Captain's office and hope to survive the heatwave enough. Door was locked so he was confident enough to do it even if Price did raise an eyebrow for a moment before shrugging it off.

By the third year, he already made it a habit to remove his mask once he got you to your room, finally dragging you to bed even before you fall asleep on the desk. You'd grumble and complain but when he glares you down, you relent anyways, not like you can fight him back easily when he's the largest amongst your teammates. So against your unnecessary complaints, he'd spoon you till you fall asleep, much thanks for your exhausted body and mind. Once asleep, he'd sneak a nap for an hour or two himself before letting you be, heading back to his own room, but not after sneaking a kiss to the hair and hand. For him, you're his hardworking lovie, not that he'd let it slip out to everyone else.

[tradgedyinwaves]

First Choice - Part 2

Part two of this Poly141! x fat!reader tw: social anxiety, self-doubt, drinking

A month. You didn't go back to the bar for a full month. Avoided the place like it was the birthplace of the plague. And it was to you. You didn't want to run the risk that they were there again, that the man in the mask would berate you for making eye contact with him that night despite knowing he'd probably forgotten about you 30 seconds after. Social anxiety was a bitch.

But they were there. EVERY. FUCKING. FRIDAY.

Ghost thought he was going to lose his mind. The others had started to think he'd imagined you or had a hallucination of you. So when they sat down on the fifth Friday, there wasn't a mention of you from them. Simon still kept his eye out for you.

Surely a month was long enough that they'd have moved on, gotten bored with the dark, dingy bar and the same crowd every Friday. Arriving with your friends, your heart was in your throat and there was a swirl of nausea in your stomach.

They're not here. They're not here. They're not here.

The mantra was on repeat, but you couldn't help checking the back table anyway. You froze where you were standing as your eyes landed on the four larger men, your friend bumping into your back and asking what was wrong. You shook your head and gave her a weak smile, claiming you thought you saw someone.

You took your usual seat at the bar, tucked into the far corner where you could see the table of men and watched as your own friends filtered out onto the floor again. It was so easy for them to just introduce themselves to men, flirt their way to free drinks and possibly a nice little one night stand.

Ghost clocked you the moment the bell above the door dinged pathetically against the wood door and you walked in with three of your friends including the little blonde that informed them that you would be there every Friday. His gloved hand reached out and smacked Soap center chest, incidentally grabbing everyone's attention at the table as well.

"That her, LT?" Soap asked, eyes darting between his lieutenant and you. Soap eyed you for a moment, taking in the open scoop neck long sleeve shirt and the swell of your breasts that weren't hidden very well.

"Tha's 'er. Pretty thing, hm?" Ghost replied before picking up his glass and knocking it back, mouth suddenly dry as the Sahara. You were as pretty as he remembered and the urge to have a picture of you with him at all times roared to life in his chest.

Gaz being on the end gave him the best view of you, taking in the jeans that hugged your plump hips and ass. He could also see the way you held your jacket over your stomach to hide your belly as best you could.

Price could tell you were uncomfortable, watching you watch your friends with a hint of resentment and disdain in your eyes. He hadn't missed that all of your friends were "conventionally beautiful" and he could see that it bothered you.

"Go get her," Price suggested to Gaz, nudging him a bit as he knew Gaz was the proper man to send. You'd never come over if any of the rest of them approached you. Ghost made a disgruntled noise, looking to his captain for a brief moment of silent communication before he nodded, conceding to his superior.

You ordered your whiskey, sipping on it as you flipped between checking on your friends and scrolling mindlessly through your phone. You couldn't help but to let your eyes flick up from the dim screen to check on the table in the corner every once in a while.

Which was where your eyes were now, but there was one missing, the pretty one. Oh, he wasn't missing. He was settling himself against the stool next to you, looking down at you with those molten eyes of his and a friendly smile. "Come join us for a drink. Promise we won't bite. Well, I make no promises about Johnny."

Yup. I did a part two. This is really speaking to me right now for some reason.

Hope you guys liked it!

<- Part One Part Three ->