#call of duty x ofc

[noctxj]

hanahaki disease “… in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies…”

part i / part ii / part iii / part iv

˚. ✦.��·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

agent who slowly withdraws from poly!tf141 after the first episode of bloodied flowers (realising they’re in love), from declining offers to relax in the rec room, accompany them to the local pub, or even working out in the gym to sparring.

agent knows that they’re not being subtle, see’s the guys try and figure what is going on with them. but agent refuses to let them find out—never.

agent who finally manages (after ensuring they wouldn’t hack up another flower) to file a notice, a formality really, to john— captain price, for their absence in the oncoming month or two. as there are no current operations needing agents’ immediate attention, its an opportunity for agent to get their other affairs in order after months being on base with the taskforce. 

john— captain price, briefly glancing at the document before focusing his ocean blue eyes to search agents (tired) face, a frown creasing between his full brows.

pleasedontlookatme—

whatdoyousee—?

the captain getting up from his seat to circle around his desk to stand before agent, his scrutinising gaze trying to catch agents downcast eyes.

pleasejohndont—

“this wouldn’t be about you pulling away from us recently hm?”

bullseye— 

agent could feel a thorn piercing the walls of her throat, their jaw tightening in response. a reaction john notices, his face softening as he reaches out to tip agents chin back to finally see his now gentle imploring eyes.

soblue—

“just don’t forget to come back to us, okay little love?”

little love. a pet name that simon (proudly) started to refer to agent amongst the taskforce (and no one else, lest they meet ghost in the middle of the night) while the others also followed suit—

“or would you rather shorty? or tiny even?” simon had smugly responded after seeing agents offended (blushing) face.

ugh that big oaf of a man, not everyone needs to be the size of an industrial fridge—!!

johnny and kyle chortling in the background, seemingly forgetting they’re suppose to be supervising the recruits’ training.

the pinch of another thorn dragging up their throat throwing agent back into the present.

“of course, captain.”

lies.lies.lies.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

agent whose kept a mental list of contacts who owe them favours, a debt that is finally being repaid: to find a cure for hanahaki disease. from the highest level of power and prestige in society, to the lowest trenches of the underworld. over the course of a few weeks, one by one, each contact falls short of delivering. but agent keeps digging. keeps searching.

there is never nothing. there has to be something somewhere. someone must have at least thought— until finally a contact (old friend) provides them with a lead. 

a doctor whose dedicated their life in medical research of hanahaki disease, searching for a cure— whispers that there is a cure. they’re located halfway across the world. but that doesn’t matter to agent, they’re leaving within an hour; flight booked and travel bag already packed.

washing the remnants of blood down the sink drain, tears wet on their cheeks. the episodes were happening more frequently.

agent is running out of time.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

“… it can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear…”

agent feels drained as the doctors words echo in their mind even hours after agents abrupt appearance in the doctors office. one look into agents (desperate) eyes and the doctor already knew why they had come, offered tea to soothe their throat (wash the metallic taste away, even if temporarily).

agent immediately coughing out both the tea, then one bloodied rose— then two— three— and finally four, as agent reaches to rip the tangled thorns from the back of their throat, ignoring the screaming pain of thorns dragging out of their mouth and past their stinging pale lips. 

the doctors face stricken with worry and sadness, trying to wipe the blood from agents face and hands; disposing of the thorny flowers in a sterile bin. the doctor concluding that agent does not have much time to deliberate if they wish to proceed with the experimental procedure. an incredibly invasive surgery that may not completely cure the victim; follow up surgery’s may be required. 

being split open from larynx to diaphragm, sown back together, only to be split open again if a single flower is coughed back up.

agent acknowledges this. pain is pain after all—

whats more to add to the pile?

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

tric’s notes

added some dialogue in this part compared to the first part. unedited, also like the first part. i know nothing about the complexities of surgery (google images my saviour) so don’t try to make sense of it haha.

thanks for reading!! ♡︎♡︎

crossposted on ao3 (same username!)

[fishsinsareacknowledged]

Ghost who just likes to????? Scratch at you???

Its random, but not rare. In the middle of cuddling you'll just feel his blunt nails scratch at your neck lightly then stop. He doesn't even acknowledge it, like some sort of instinct.

He notices sometimes though, cupping your face and lightly he scratches your jaw for a good minute. Pulling back just to look at his hand questionably, an eyebrow raised to the heavens.

"Sorry luv', don't know why did that."

Its harmless though, so you don't mind when he scratches your stomach. Nails gently gliding over the skin.

Or when his hands get to your waist. Lifting only to put pressure only by his nails. It helps his relax. It helps you relax too when he starts scratching at your hair. Something primal in you.

[moonriseoverkyoto]

Wearing your brother’s dog tags brings a lot of questions, which meant problems. Especially from men, especially at a bar where said men try to pick you up. Or strike a conversation about the mysterious dog tags. Lucky for you a certain Scot lovingly doesn’t think to ask too many questions. Not until Johnny “Soap” Mactavish’s tongue is down your throat in the back of his car on holiday do the gears begin to turn. But only, yes only after, a few odd weekends of small dates and letters when he can write, he finally decides to ask who your tags belong to between deep kisses and pants. You frown as you pull away to respond, the mood dampened.

“Oh I really shouldn’t say..” you sigh not wanting to explain the long story typically because it ruins the mood “my brother gave me these so I wouldn’t worry about him when he leaves on missions. His call sign is Ghost and…” Shit. Johnny’s whole body seizes up as his heart makes a pitfall down his body. His hearing stops as his brain repeats your joined last name over and over and over; Riley, Riley Riley Riley. Fuck why didn’t he connect the dots. Ghost always was secretive and protective about his younger sister, everyone knew he always declined to bring you as his plus one or even show photos to the rest of the 141. Damnit he knows somewhere down the line if Gaz or even worse Price hears about this that he’ll never live it down. If Ghost hears about this - shit he’ll never live. He finally zones back in to hear you say

“…but that doesn’t matter because you guys don’t run in the same circles, right?” Soap’s nervous smile gives you all the time for your heart to join his in dropping down below. But as your phone rings both of you are sure your hearts have dropped down to hell as the caller id reads: Simon Riley.

Drabble Drabble, I’m tired and I wanted to put this on paper before it slipped my mind. I’ll expand upon this later but this is mostly an idea for @glossysoap to enjoy because Glossy loves Soap as much as I do. So I hope you enjoy btw not proofread so toodles xoxo - Moon

©️moonriseoverkyoto 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, or translate any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

Reposts are 100000% appreciated. Also my inbox is open for requests!

[forsworned]

Ghost: you’re a bug.

Y/n: how???

Ghost: small. crawls around. Y/n: ????

[sky-is-the-limit]

Gurl, I've got you.

If you are comfortable with it, I can imagine Gaz getting jealous, tying his partner to the bed (with their consent, obviously 😒) and fucking them like there's no tomorrow. (Sending this as an ask in case you wanna use it)

'Wicked Games'

P: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

CW: Dom/Brat Tamer!Gaz, jealousy, possessiveness, handcuffs, face-fucking as punishment, rough oral sex

WC: 3.505 words (oops)

You were in the midst of getting ready, your reflection adorned in a sleek, tight black dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. With each movement, the fabric whispered against your skin, accentuating your figure with an air of confidence.

His eyes followed the graceful arc of your hand as you brushed a hint of blush onto your cheeks, the subtle flush of color only enhancing your natural beauty.

Despite his efforts to appear nonchalant, the tension simmered just beneath the surface. His gaze widened slightly at the sight of your attire,lingering on you with a hint of admiration and pride.

''He's just a colleague, Kyle.'' It was the third time you had to echo that sentence in a row, each word carefully enunciated with an exhausted sigh in between as the night drag on.

''Who's desperately trying to sleep with you, Y/N.'' Kyle's jaw tightened, his gaze hardening as he leaned himself against the doorframe to get a better look at you. 

The veil of calm that blanked his form wasn't enough to disguise the tension around you that could be cut with a knife.

''Okay, now you're overreacting.'' A quick glance away from your reflection in the mirror was enough to catch him rolling his eyes to your remark as you applied the finishing touches to your makeup.

Your arrival to your corporate's event was bound to be late from the moment you were about to settle on the outfit.

The sound of the bathroom door creaked open, and your boyfriend that resembled a Greek God emerged, his hair damp and tousled from the shower. In nothing but a towel wrapped low around his waist, droplets of water glistened on his bronzed skin, accentuating the defined lines of his muscular physique.

''Yeah, right- Wait, no bra?'' Kyle's voice was tinged with a hint of reproach, his brows furrowing as he fought to keep his jealousy in check.

''I can't wear one with this dress.'' With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you turned to face him.

"And you know what else?" You continued, your voice teasing as you pulled back to meet Kyle's gaze. "It's kinda cold tonight.''

''Fucking hell.'' Kyle let out a frustrated growl, his patience wearing thin as he struggled to contain his emotions.. That did not bode well for his self-control.

With a playful smirk, he pushed himself away from the door frame and took a step closer, the air thick with a sudden change of emotions.

''What do I have to do to get you to stay?'' The droll of his voice belied a casual tease, but his tone was dangerous.

''Tie me down, probably.''

The words hung in the air for a moment, accompanied by your light chuckle, as you anticipated Kyle's typical witty response. However, as the seconds ticked by, you noticed the atmosphere slowly changing.

The laughter faded from your lips instantly as you glimpsed the genuine consideration in Kyle's eyes, a flicker of something more primal stirring beneath the surface.

The suggestion lingered in the air like a provocative dare, igniting a spark of desire within him as he contemplated the possibilities.

''Are you seriously considering tying me down, Sergeant?'' The sudden shift from playful banter to something more charged, left you breathless, your pulse quickening with a rush of excitement.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Kyle reached out to gently brush a lock of hair from your face, his touch tender yet intense.

''What if I am?'' His tone was casual, but the way it vibrated in his chest sent a rush of heat down your spine.

''You'd have to catch me, first'' You exclaimed with a giggle and quickened your pace towards the living room, forgetting for a moment that with that man standing behind you, it was pointless.

Kyle, agile and determined, moved swiftly to intercept you. He closed the distance between you in a few quick strides. In a heartbeat, his strong hands firmly gripped on your hips, halting you in your tracks.

Before you could protest or react, Kyle pulled you even closer, his body pressing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against the shell of your ear as he whispered huskily, "That was a bad move, sweetheart."

''Kyle, you're gonna ruin my outfit-'' A look of bland innocence spread across your face, trying hard to convince yourself above all that you wanted to walk out that door and out of his embrace. 

"Oh, sweetheart," He murmured, his breath warm against your skin, "You know I'm not just gonna ruin your outfit."

A shiver of excitement ran down your spine as his fingers trailed slowly along your sides, his touch igniting a fire within you that burned hot and bright.

As Kyle's hands moved with intent, your breath caught in your throat, skin tingling with anticipation at the tantalizing promise of what was to come.

It was when Kyle's hands reached your breasts that you realized that he was not going to let you walk out that door intact, your eyes widening in shock at the suddenness of his touch.

''I'm gonna do much more than that.'' In terms of words that made your knees give in, he’s definitely said more explicit things, but apparently, that was all you needed that night. 

"Kyle," You murmured, your tone betraying the internal struggle, "I have to go."

''Mhm, do you now?'' Kyle buried his nose in your neck, feeling your pulse with his lips. His skin was so hot, his steaming breath stretching over your delicate skin.

You didn’t mean to whimper, but it slipped out and Kyle's hips bucked. Eager to cage you. Eager to pin you under him and devour you.

With a teasing lilt to your voice, you uttered the name that always seemed to set him on edge, "What will James think if I don't go?"

You knew all too well the effect those words would have, how they would stir the green-eyed monster within him, yet you couldn't resist the thrill of fueling his jealousy and pushing him over the edge.

/ / /

And that was how you ended up lying on the bed, your wrists bound by soft leather handcuffs secured to the headboard.

It had started innocently enough, a playful suggestion that quickly escalated into something far more intense. With each gentle tug of the restraints, you felt a surge of excitement building within you.

And as you laid there, completely at his mercy, you couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

The soft whisper of fabric against skin, the faint creak of the bed beneath you, every sensation seemed magnified, heightened by the knowledge that you were completely under his control.

In that moment, with the world reduced to nothing but the two of you, you knew that you were exactly where you wanted to be, no alcohol, no annoying colleagues, no meaningless conversations. Just you, bare naked, bound to the bed and utterly captivated by the man kneeling with you between his thighs

"Satisfied now, Sergeant Garrick?" A devious smile played on your lips as you attempted to feign innocence, but your efforts were feeble at best.

Your boyfriend's keen observation didn't miss a beat. The slight twitch on his brow betrayed his reaction to you using his military rank. It was clear that your words had struck a chord within him, awakening something hidden beneath the surface that was begging to come forward.

As his gaze met yours, you noticed them darkening to the shade closest to the nightsky. There was a spark of arousal mixed with something almost unexplainable, something almost frightening. Intoxicating.

"Cat got your tongue, pretty boy?" Your tone dripped with sass as you pushed the boundaries, testing his patience.

Short distorted laughs came from him, almost mocking your pathetic attempt to provoke him. He raised one hand, the warmth of his touch grazing against your cheek before trailing down to the back of your head, where his fingers began to weave through your hair with a gentle grip.

Despite the tender gesture, you couldn't ignore the underlying tension that radiated from him, it was clear that what was to follow was going to be far from sweet.

Abruptly, his fingers clenched tightly in your hair, a searing pain radiating through your scalp, eliciting a groan to escape your lips.

"Yeah? Is that how you wanna play, love?" His voice was low and husky as he leaned down, bringing his mouth close to your ear.

Kyle's lips brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, while his other hand, calloused and strong, gently cupped the flesh of your ass before giving it a firm squeeze.

You felt his touch trailing down, skimming over the nakedness of your upper body until they reached the edge of your panties. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers danced along the elastic, teasingly tugging them down. The sensation was electrifying, anticipation coursing through your body.

His warm breath tickled your neck as he exhaled, "You're practically dripping, and I've barely even touched you." He remarked with a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in your ear and sending a thrill through your body.

"Shut up-" You quipped, knowing full well the bratty tone of your words.

As if to amplify your wicked plan, you aimed a playful kick at his thigh, intending to push him away though you knew that it was part of his job to take down men twice his size with ease.

Kyle reared back, and in an instant, his lips crashed onto yours with an intensity that bordered on punishing.

Initially, you resisted, a split-second defiance before surrendering to the fervor of his kiss. As you yielded, his kiss softened, his lips tenderly caressing yours, his tongue teasing the corner of your mouth with slow strokes.

As he began pressing his knee against your throbbing core, your back arched instinctively, seeking further contact and stimulation.

In response to your reaction, he let out a deep, guttural moan of his own into your mouth, his desire echoing yours as he intensified the pressure of his kiss. With one hand still cupping the back of your neck possessively, he leaned over you, his weight asserting dominance in the space between you.

His honeyed eyes fixated on your breasts, staring with a hunger that made your skin tingle. His plush lips were slightly parted as he placed his palms on your stomach, earning a desperate whisper from you.

''Kyle-'' Unintentionally, a soft mewl escaped your lips, a sound of desire that surprised even you. You couldn't help but crave his hands on your breasts, yearning for the sensation of his fingers squeezing, massaging, mirroring the fervent desire on his face.

And then, he withdrew, his lips parting from yours, leaving behind a warmth as he leaned back to take another look at your exposed skin.

''You wanna act like a brat?'' Kyle seethed as if he was welcoming a challenge, a sly smirk playing on his lips, his eyes gleaming with determination.

With deliberate intent, he wrapped his fingers around the base of your neck, his grip tightening gradually, compelling you to meet his eyes. ''Fine, I'll treat you like one.''

His hand disappeared from your sight, gliding down his torso until it reached the towel that hung low around his waist, teasingly revealing the contours of his body.

In one swift motion, he discarded the towel, allowing it to fall to the floor with a soft rustle, revealing his form in all its glory. You couldn't help but stare, mesmerized. It slapped against his stomach with a satisfying thud, beautiful and big, just like him.

Slowly, he caressed himself before you, his cock poised directly in front of your face, temptingly close.

"Spit." Kyle commanded, his hand extended in front of your face, positioned just beneath your waiting mouth.

Without hesitation, you complied with his request, gathering saliva in your mouth before lolling out your tongue, allowing it to messily fall into his hand.

"That's my obedient girl." He praised, whilst using the same hand that collected your saliva to stroke himself once again. With each firm stroke, his member glistened, now coated in the slickness that you provided.

''Open your mouth, sweetheart. Unless you'd like for me to force it open?'' He questioned as as he began to leisurely drag the tip of his throbbing cock along your wet lips before gently prodding them.

You savored the bittersweet tang of the precum that glistened on the head, the taste a delicious blend of saltiness and sweetness that made you want more. And so you complied without hesitation, parting your lips and extending your tongue, its wet, pink surface waiting for his touch.

''Suck.''

His voice took on a rough, commanding tone, without any hint of playfulness as his hips bucked towards your lips, seeking the warmth of your mouth.

Without hesitation, your mouth opened eagerly, welcoming his head as it entered, filling your senses with the taste and texture of him.

You hollowed your cheeks, creating suction as you enveloped him, relishing in the sensation of his hardness against your tongue. Taking your time, you swirled your tongue around the tip, exploring every ridge and contour, teasing him with the flickering motion.

You weren't going to give it to him easily. Or so you believed in that moment. Perhaps deep down, there lurked a streak of masochism within you.

And so, without warning, you executed a bold move, deftly slipping his length off your lips with a resounding pop, punctuating the act with a falsely innocent look.

"Oops." You smirked, meeting his half-shocked, half-annoyed expression with unwavering confidence despite your restricted position.

''Bold move, love.'' What he did next caught you off guard.

With a swift motion, he retrieved his hand from the back of your head and placed it under your jaw, the once gentle touch now transformed into a merciless grip as his fingers closed around your cheeks, applying pressure until you winced from the pain and forced your mouth to open.

Kyle wasted no time in reclaiming the wetness of your mouth, thrusting his length back inside with an assertiveness that seemed almost brutal. Not to you, though. That was how you liked it and he knew. Gentle and sweet as a partner, rough and dominant as a lover.

You hummed around him, the vibration serving as an affirmative response, granting him permission to take control. His other hand rose to join the first, folding over your head, firmly holding you in place as he lifted his hips and thrusted forward.

He closed his eyes, the long lashes brushing against his flushed cheeks as he breathed out a low, gravelly moan.

"Oh, fuck, yes- that's it. You're- you're taking me so fucking well." In contrast to his words growing increasingly visceral and obscene, Kyle looked strikingly beautiful and almost mad with his open jaw hung slightly agape as he struggled to catch his breath, each inhalation ragged and uneven.

Sensing his movement, you relaxed your jaw, allowing your tongue to flatten and just before he pushed deeper, you managed to draw in one last breath, bracing yourself for what was to come.

Then, his head bumped against the back of your throat, causing your eyes to sting with tears pooling at the corners as you coughed wetly around him. Foam and saliva spurted from the tight seal of your lips, a result of the sudden intrusion.

His relentless pace caused your throat to bulge, stretching to accommodate his girth, while your face contorted with the strain of his forceful thrusts.

The squelching of his cock drilling in and out of your mouth got louder and louder as your saliva wet his length, only making him fuck your mouth like it was nothing but a hole, with more intent as it got easier for him.

His fingers held onto both sides of your skull tightly, burying your nose into his pubic hair with every pulsation. Your jaw grew slack, your jowl hanging low as his girth forced your mouth open for his use. 

''Now what would that asshole think, hm?'' His breathing was erratic, his words garbled and he dislodged himself from you entirely this time.

His hand gripped around the base of his cock, coated heavily with pre-cum and your saliva. The force-grip on your face relaxed and you pulled your lips back together in relief.

And then he stuffed back himself into you, taking in the feeling of your reflexive bobs on his cock, of you gagging and salivating around his member. He drug your head off after a short time, then back in, finding his rhythm.

The fingers in your hair roughly pulled you against him as he held you firmly back in place, leaving you no choice but to breathe through your nose and try to relax your muscles further. ''Seeing you tied up like that, choking on my cock, fuck-''

It only took a few more hard, erratic thrusts before he reached the breaking point, his body tensing above you as he neared climax.

With each hard movement, his cock plunged deeper into your throat, driving past the point of resistance until it reached the depths of your being. In a surge of desperate release, he unleashed his hot thick cum so deep inside you, you didn't even get taste it.

Though your jaw felt like it was burning in flames, you immediately welcomed the relief as you could finally draw in a deep, satisfying breath. With a sigh, you leaned your head back against the headboard, allowing the coolness of the surface to soothe your overheated skin.

''You did so well baby, so fucking good for me.'' He cooed, the sweetness returning to his tone before he swiftly slid his knees from your upper body down to your waist, his movements unhurried as he took in the way you looked in that moment. A beautiful mess.

Whilst he positioned himself, he leaned forward, his forehead gently meeting yours for a brief moment and then closed the gap completely, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tender kiss.

''Now..'' Kyle whispered against your parted lips, a soft breath of warmth that set your skin on fire.

As his tongue delicately brushed against your bottom lip, his hands trailed upwards to caress your restrained arms as though he was taking away the ache just by touching them.

''Be a good girl and..'' As his lips made their way towards the upper half of your face, his voice was sinful against the delicate curve of your ear shell. With each caress, the tension in your muscles began to ease.

Finally, his hands came to rest against each of your wrists, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the cool metal of the handcuffs.

With a gentle yet purposeful movement, his fingers traced the outline of the restraints, teasing you by applying pressure for a second before stopping and repeating the same movement.

You watched in anticipation, biting hard on your bottom lip not to wince out loud as the tension in the air became heavy once more and then you finally heard the faint click of the restraints releasing.

The pain in your wrists began to fade away, relief washing over you as Kyle deftly removed the handcuffs. With each click of the lock releasing, a weight seemed to lift from your shoulders. You eagerly anticipated the opportunity to finally touch him, to feel his warmth against your skin and bring him close to you.

But before you could even extend your hands, Kyle's touch found its way to your waist and with a suddenness that pushed all air out your lungs, he maneuvered you around, positioning you so that your face was now directed towards the headboard. The abrupt shift in position left you disoriented, your gaze now fixated on the wooden surface before you.

''Kyle, what are you-''

Without warning, he once again secured the handcuffs around your wrists, immobilizing you completely. The metallic clink echoed in the room and his striking face disappeared from your sight, replaced by the blank expanse of the wall.

Though you couldn't see him, the subtle shifts in the mattress beneath you betrayed his movements as he lowered himself onto the bed. He positioned himself underneath you, his shoulders pressed firmly between your thighs, urging them to open wider.

Finally, you looked down, his face came into view, illuminated by the soft glow of the dimly lit room.

''Sit on my fucking face.''

(to be continued..:)

[vrtvyg]

dude, even better than mama's boy könig. mama's boy könig who fucking HATES his step dad. Quietly grumbling and glaring at the much shorter man every time he visits home.

even better than that, imagine könig's father was a soldier just like him. just as tall as he was, who unfortunately passed early in his life. He adored his father just as much as he adored him mother, and promised to protect her after his death.

Just imagine the tension, going home to meet his ma, and having to sit through the WORSE tension of your life. His expression towards this man is more terrifying than the one he wears on the feild. You might have to drag him out to the car a few times to stop him from jumping on the poor man, Simply because he forgot to pull the chair out for his ma.

[bunnyreaper]

you and john debate your baby's team allegience. (18+/mdni, suggestive themes, liverpool fan john price. written for/inspired by @a-very-bored-blogger)

your face lights up with excitement as soon as the webpage on your phone loads, yet immediately, you hear a groan from behind you--john's grip on your waist tightening. 

"absolutely not, love." 

"c'mon, it's adorable." you coo, zooming in on the football team's baby kit and practically shoving it in your husband's face over your shoulder.

you don't even need to turn to see the way his nose wrinkles in disgust, his brows furrow with disdain. despite his clear objections, he presses a quick kiss to your cheek and then your neck, as if trying to dissuade you. "if she's getting any kit it's a liverpool one, end of story." 

his hands begin to roam, up to your shoulders, massaging at the stress that's accumulated there after all the time spent looking after your 6-month-old. 

you hum, trying to imagine your little girl in john's teams colours. "i'm not sure if red would suit her as much as black and white." you tease, knowing full well such insistence is going to wind john up. little gets him worked up as much as his football and his loyalty to his team.

"darling." he says sincerely, before spinning your stool around to face him. he presses himself in between the space of your legs, a serious, solemn look in his eyes. "been thinking about this since i was a boy myself. i had a liverpool shirt, she's having a liverpool shirt." 

you hold his gaze, deciding on whether to push or let him have this one. you knew deep down that if you wanted to, you could pull the "I just carried your child for 9 months, and have been sleepless for the last 6 while you spent 3 of them on the other side of the world" card, but you also knew that this was something important to john, more important than it was to you.

"fine." you smile sweetly, locking the phone and reaching behind you to set it on the counter, before you reach up to thread your fingers round the back of john's neck. "ill make you a deal."

"what's that?" his eyebrow quirks, a smirk tugging at his lips--he loved his ingenious wife and her deals.

"she gets the liverpool shirt, and this weekend when she's at your mums, we get started on our little newcastle fan." 

john is on you in an instant, dick pressed against your core as hungry lips attack your neck. "no reason we have to wait til the weekend, love. might as well get started now." 

[priceseyes]

sgt. athena 'birdie' kallis and capt. john price - commission done by @felrija

enjoy the silence, cod-verse: a masterlist.

-

AHHH!!!! I've been excited about this for a while now, OMG!!!! LOOK AT THEM, MY BADASS BABIES!!! OHHH, they look so wonderful and in loveeeeee!!!! I love the way @felrija, they did an absolutely lovely job at portraying both my COD!OC, athena, as well as the relationship she has with price. GAH! they look so lovely together, I can't thank @felrija enough, seriously.

them, my babies.

[cloudofbutterflies92]

A little lesson

Kinkober 2023: sub!Ghost x female!OC

TW: handjob, breast worship, car sex MDNI

Normally Ghost and Eden hated informal parties, they would have liked to stay at home with their usual glass of wine, maybe a good movie. But instead they were there, talking to strangers at the party of a longtime friend of Simon's. Wedding anniversary, basically the 15th anniversary, but there was one small detail.

It had been a week since Ghost had provoked Eden, a shirtless photo after the gym, maybe with a towel reaching straight to the v-zone and dedications like "I wish you were here so I can fuck you so hard that everyone knows who you belong to". That was just the corniest phrase or the most puritanical action. He had sent worse. All for a stupid bet.

"If you resist, I will do what you want" had been Simon's proposal. Usually the lieutenant was always calm, very discreet, always giving her the 'initiative'. But this time he wanted to be a little bolder.

It was a few minutes before midnight, the end of the bet, as a week had passed. Eden was talking to the various guests as usual.

A text.

An attached photo of him, probably before they got to the party. With his shirt literally unbuttoned, he is clutching his erect cock.

"I was thinking how much I would need to get this between your tits. To see it move between those beautiful little mounds."

Eden didn't know whether to spit out the champagne or laugh.

"Asshole.”

"What?" One of the guests turned around, the figure was on the horizon, and Eden really didn't feel like getting nervous. But she was going to make him pay, she already had in mind how.

She swallowed, aware that she had to justify herself. "No I was saying Stephanie, the wife seems very patient to me. They really are in love" she proffered, trying not to be seen as she watched her boyfriend adjust his shirt collar and speak in his usual I-don't-want-to-be-here tone.

Simon Riley needed a little lesson

"It was nice to spend the evening together, 15 years is a long time," toward the final minutes of that party as the usual Eden thanked the celebrants. She wanted to try to be nice but sensing Simon's hand resting on her ass was bringing her the urge to want to leave.

Or to hit him.

"I was glad to see you Simon, your girlfriend is really an exquisite person."

"Yeah? I know" with that mischievous glint in his gaze Simon showed all the pride with which he continued that game

A few minutes and then we'll see who sings victory

It was the only thought of the brunette who came out with him in the driveway of the celebrating couple's house. There seemed to be no end to that route that took them all the way to the car.

"Midnight, you know what that means no?" Proudly Eden pronounced, she had won the bet and now the cards were on the table for her to pass.

Simon scoffed. "I have to admit babe, I could have sworn you lost. You know you're ovulating" the lieutenant put on some slow, sensual music, he wanted to avoid rupturing his eardrums that night since he had to endure some obscene music to say the least.

Eden was staring at him bewildered, had he done it on purpose.Had he really tracked her ovulation period?

"You were incorrect, did you really go and read inside my period app?"

"Actually I know by heart that the period ranges between 12 and 20.Math babe" the blond explained with a wink. The audacity.

And that was enough for Eden for her to stop the car in a secluded spot, the hedge was blurred enough to allow privacy.

Pulling on her own cigarette, the brunette's forest eyes analyzed every detail, figuring out how to begin. Her sweet revenge was ready to be carried out.

She then stepped out of the car and back into the passenger seat behind him, Simon seemed not to flinch but at the same time was intrigued.

"Y'know, I always told you I don't like these things" Eden removed one of her shoes, the much adored louboutins he had given her.A gulp came from Simon's adam's apple as he stared from the rearview mirror at the silk fabric rising higher and higher. She was not wearing panties.

He looked at her lightheartedly. "Have you prepared yet?"

"Oh not for you, I won't give you the satisfaction until you learn your lesson" with her own thumb Eden stroked her labia, swinging her finger methodically in a cyclic manner. Frustration was evident in Simon, trying to rest his hand on the obvious bulge in his pants.

"Ha ha, no. Take your hand away, you have to look" She ordered, swinging the dress strap to reveal a breast. With two fingers she spread her folds, moaning with amusement at the sight of the desire with which he wanted to fuck her at that moment.

"Would you like to feel your cock inside me? Fill me all up?"

"You're crazy, I need that cunt" he let out a deep, nervous laugh, bloody hell if she was in bitch mode. If there was one thing he was addicted to it was hearing his name spoken by her as he rammed her.

"Uh cheeky lad" she licked her own cherry lips, massaging his tit. The blond just thinking about how perfect those turgid nipples would be between his lips, licked and sucked he let out a choked moan.

"You were an asshole, sending me all those pictures thinking you might have a chance to win mh?Now you're not talking?"

No, or at least he couldn't by seeing her finger-fucking herself.He just wanted that torture of seeing her tease him to end. Just being touched by her would really help.

"Babe please."

"Please what?" In an authoritative tone she blew against his ear "Answer?"

It was enough to see him nod and whisper that "Yes please" to make her stop amused, beckoning him with her finger to join her. The blond wasted no more time, climbed over the seats and sat down beside her.

On all fours she whispered seductively. "I shouldn't be so generous with you," she unbuttoned his pants, lightly brushing the hard fabric of his boxers. He gently slipped his hand into her cleavage, hazel eyes watched her with a sense of contentment. Everyone believed that because of his size he liked to be the dominant one in bed, but the thrill of being subservient was different. It was tantalizing.

"I love seeing you so desperate for me, you know it's rewarding" she left the imprint of her lipstick on his cheek, releasing his hardness. Slowly the brunette reached his loins, massaging them up and down.

"Desperation preceding desire" the brunette went on, allowing Simon to suck on her nipples, the smooth rubbing of her skin, his moans. He depended only on that hand job.

"Christ I have to cum, go ahead" he choked between her breasts, his voice cut and deep.

Eden kissed his forehead. "S'okay, it'll be okay" she increased the speed, making him erupt in that orgasm, coating the woman's hand and gasping for air.

Looking up he saw her caressing him, her lips curved in that reassuring smile like her cherry scent. It was inevitable for him to take her face and suck lightly on her lower lip.

"Are you happy?I didn't know one handjob would do that."

"Happy? This is just the beginning," the curly-haired woman with that devilish wink promised him, causing him to grin and nod.

"I'm always ready for surprises cherry babe"

NSFW taglist: @spookyrares @cassietrn @sweet-samnang @roofgeese @ghostgirlvii @voidika @theelderhazelnut @violetflavia

[hunterbunter3000]

141 Sweetheart, standing over Soap: Beat cha again, Suds! Gonna have to try harder than that to pin me down.

Soap, laying on the mat in pain and out of breath: Aghh--shove it, St.

(Sweetheart giggles as she stretches her arms over her head. Her whiny grunt makes Soap feel things he shouldn't. As she's stretching, her long sleeve compression shirt rides up to her belly button. Soap looks over at her figure, and zeros in on the detailed tattoo she kept secret)

Soap, smirking: Hey... is that a womb tattoo?

141 Sweetheart, covering her tummy and embarrassed: WOAH WHAT?! NO- OMG YOU SAW THAT?? AHAAAA

Soap laughing: IT SO IS! When the hell did ya get that?

141 Sweetheart, sighing and pulling up her shirt to show the tattoo: Ugh, when I was sixteen... illegally...

Soap: WHAT

141 Sweetheart: I WAS A REBEL OKAY

Lil Bonus!

Soap, still smirking like the little shit he is: You got other tattoos ya hidin' from me?

141 Sweetheart, huffing: I do. But it's gonna take alot for me to show theM--

(Soap catches her off guard and sweeps her feet with his leg, causing her to fall on her ass. He straddles her waist with his hands pinning her wrists down. He leans in close to her face with a shit-eating grin and hooded eyes)

Soap: I hope so. I like a challenge, bonnie.

[whiskeynwriting]

Affection

Simon “Ghost” Riley x OFC “Bones”

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Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Tattoos, brief violence (just sparring), mentions of injury, mask kink, praise kink, primal kink-ish, very dom Ghost, oral sex (m and f receiving), anal fingering, anal sex, slight cum play, and some sweet fluffies lol

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A/N: I am so obsessed and in love with this man it’s not even funny.

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

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“Your hair’s getting longer.” You comment, lips mumbling the words.

“Yeah,” Simon responds simply, eyes remaining shut. “Gonna have to shave it soon.”

Briefly, your fingers stop their gentle swipes. Furrowing your brows, you ask incredulously, “Shave it?”

He smiled then, something you’ll never take for granted. “Always do.” And then he’s tapping the top of your thigh. “C’mon love, gotta leave soon.”

With that, you continue, smearing the black paint over his face. The pads of your digits slide around his eyes, through the blonde hair of his brows, over his nose. 

“I never knew you shaved it.”

“Why would you?” Simon returns softly, palms running up and down the tops of your thighs. His touch is warm and kind, traits reserved only for you. “Haven’t shaved it since before the injuries. And you’d never seen me without a mask at that point.”

And you figure, he’s right. “But it’s so pretty.” All you want to do is run your hands through his sunshine-colored locks, just like you always do. But face black would probably be difficult to get out of his hair. 

“Yeah?” He chuckles, “Want me to keep it this way?”

Quietly, sweetly, you reply with, “Yes, please.” It’s not necessarily long, just longer. Whisps and strands trailing down toward his face, long enough to be brushed back beneath the hood and his sweatshirt. “Why did you ever shave it anyway?”

Ghost shrugs, remaining otherwise perfectly still for you. “Was easier to deal with, felt better beneath my mask.”

Caressing you sweetly, Simon waits patiently as you apply the dark smears to his face. He’s standing between your spread legs while you sit atop the counter, the intimate moment shared in the privacy of his bathroom. Every now and then, he hums, basking in the sensation, the delicate touch of your fingertips. Holding back his grin, he breathes steadily, contently. It’s the first time you’ve ever done this, and he’s considering letting you do it again. And now that he’s back in training, you’ll have the opportunity to do so. 

“I’ll miss you.”

Simon laughs at this. “Only be a few hours, B.”

“You know, I can’t believe you used to be bald.” Backtracking to your last topic, you just can’t seem to get it out of your head. 

“Not bald,” He almost sounds offended. “Had some hair. Like the sides of Johnny’s head.” 

“Oh,”

“You done yet?”

Snapping back playfully as his impatience, you respond with, “Why? Don’t like me touching your face?” 

At this, Simon’s eyes flutter open, hands fully wrapping around your legs as he leans in. “Love when you touch me.”

And he really does mean it. Before you, physical touch was something that alarmed him, his field had trained him for that. Physical action, by his nature, was aggressive to him. But that’s been morphed by your presence, changed into something… softer. He’s still learning, but he’s relaxed enough to lean into your touch, instead of flinching away from it. Simon knows your every advance is kind, inviting. 

Before you, life was different. So fucking different. He slept alone and he liked it that way, had no one to talk to but himself in his own head. The routines he kept were strict and helped him to excel both mentally and physically. Sleep came rare for him but he managed to get used to it, operating regularly on four to five hours of sleep. Genuinely, Simon never wished for touch, never yearned to be held or embraced. Intimacy didn’t interest him, he liked life alone. But, perplexing as it was, you seemed to disturb all of that. Simon had seen pretty women before, had experienced physical interaction in a way that was full of desire rather than aggression. But not once in his life had he yearned for another’s touch in the way he so desperately yearns for you. 

“I know.” The moment becomes quiet, but Simon’s hands continue to linger. He’s closer to your face now, eyes dipping down to your mouth, and the heavy breath he releases makes you grin.“I’m done.”

Gaze lifting, Simon looks further behind you in the mirror, giving your thigh a happy slap. “Couldn’t have done it better myself.” 

With that, he’s turning to walk back into his room. And like a lost puppy, you follow him, still struck dumb with love for Ghost. Hopping off the counter, you prance forward, watching him reach for that infamous mask. Running a hand through those longer locks, Simon then tugs on the covering. 

“Hm…”

“Giddy, are we?” He teases, listening to your excited hum from further behind.

“Haven’t seen you like this in so long…”

“Yeah…” Turning, he allows you to see him in all his glory.

It’s a hotter day, so he’s opted for a black, sleeveless tank top, one that shows off his arms way too fucking much. His balaclava fits just as well as it always has, like it’s been his missing piece. And as much as you’ve loved seeing Simon’s face, you have to admit that you’ve missed the mask. Not to say he isn’t handome as the fucking devil, it’s just that the mask is, well… it’s him. “Feels good.” 

Watching Simon heal has been a journey, but you’ve been more than patient. After all, it wasn’t just lust that fuelled your affection for him. But seeing him like this again… his black face paint, the mask, wearing his training clothes and standing tall, standing proud; it made you feel excited. 

Stepping closer to him, your smirk grows wide, eyes raking over Ghost’s towering form. Having his arms be so openly displayed is making you feel things, every muscle outlined and defined, those black and white tattoos crawling up his forearm. And in less than an hour, he’ll be putting those muscles to work, each tendon moving and flexing while he trains. It’s his first time returning to the field since his injury and to say the least, you were thrilled. But no one was happier about it than him. 

“You look so fucking good in this…” Running your fingers down his front, you keep your playful grin. But Simon isn’t having any of it, not when he has work. 

One thick finger finds its way beneath your chin, pulling your attention up to him. “Where will you be when I get back?”

At this, your brows raise. Bold of him to assume he’ll have any energy left after his first day back. Nevertheless, you’ll be here for him.

“Would you believe me if I said my room?”

A small, rumbly purr emanates from his chest before he responds with, “No.”

It’s assumed that you’ll be here, cuddled up in his bed for a good nap. It’s what you always did when he was gone, and you weren’t working. And since today’s training session fell on a Friday afternoon, you were off the clock, and allowed to do whatever you liked. Even if that meant sleeping in your ‘superior’s’ bedroom. But it’s not like you’d ever get caught sleeping in here during the week, anyway. Flipping bunks was no longer a thing when you got to Ghost’s rank. No one went through his personal area or belongings, which worked greatly to your benefit. It allowed you to, for one, nap in his space. But it also permitted you to keep your own things here, as well. A couple changes of clothes, some toiletries. His private bathroom is quite the luxury. The new space had been gifted to him once he was checked out of your infirmary, requested specifically by his captain. Price wanted to make sure he had everything he needed in order to heal, to clean any bandages left over and tend to his injuries in private. And Ghost couldn’t have been more ecstatic. Privacy might as well be Simon’s middle name. 

A quick lift of his mask and he’s kissing you goodbye, full lips pressing firmly to your own. And as soon as he’s gone, you’re tossing your clothes to the floor. Simon’s bed was your absolute favorite place to nap, and whenever you slept, you often did so in your underclothes. Even without Simon here, it still comforted you to be surrounded by his things, his scent. Snuggling into his pillow, you’re met with the aroma of him, a blend of freshness that left hints of a woodsy, citrusy base. Ghost always kept his sheets clean, smelling of only his body wash and cologne. Lately, it was rare that you didn’t sleep here. Your room was bigger and nicer, being that it was toward the medicinal side of the building. But it made things easier on Ghost in the mornings if he left from his own room, and you weren’t one to complain. 

With a sigh, you snuggle in, thoughts swirling with images of him. Jesus, he looked so good in that outfit. Back in his mask, that confident stance and stride taking over his physique. Seeing him at his full height made you feel so small, wanting for nothing more than to be wrapped up in his arms. So strong and bulky, toned and veiny… maybe he should’ve gotten ready a little earlier in the day. It would’ve given you more time to admire him.

Seeing Ghost looking like Ghost again made you feel so hot and flustered. You can remember the first time you saw him like that, dressed in full gear with his hardened mask. It intimidated you, maybe even frightened you a bit. And you liked that, still do, in fact. You wanted him to make you feel tiny, almost insignificant, like he could do whatever he wanted and you’d thank him for the privilege of being on the receiving end. Which isn’t far off from the truth. 

Laying in his bed doesn’t help your growing fantasies, your body begging for some type of touch. In the darkness of his room, you give in to yourself, slipping a hand beneath the covers to feel your own skin. Each time you do this, you attempt to replicate Simon’s touch, the way he cups your chest, thick thumbs stroking across your nipples. He’ll run the back of his knuckles down your belly, fingertips gliding over your clothed cunt. If you’re sweet about it, he doesn’t tease, not usually. He’ll slip beneath the fabric or just pull it off altogether, petting at your naked lips before sinking his first digit entirely in. 

But it’s not the same. 

What you want right now, after seeing Simon’s firmly built physique, is him. His strength, his dominance. The way he used to throw you around, shove you face-first into the mattress while making you take it from behind. He hasn’t handled you like that in so long, not since before his injury. But with him back in the field… maybe he finally has the strength to do that again.

Before you’re even aware of your actions, you’re standing, pulling on one of Simon’s long-sleeve shirts and tugging some sweatpants up your legs. The shoes by his door slip easily onto your feet, quickly pattering down the hallway. The base is fairly empty; now that it’s after five, everyone that didn’t live on the grounds has gone home. That left you, 141, and a flurry of new recruits. 

Trying to be discreet, you walk into the field house as quiet as a mouse, glancing around to see who’s inside. To your dismay, the gym is empty, but your attention is quickly directed outside. 

“Back around!”

Price’s voice is booming and raspy as he conducts the newest platoon, the group visible through one of the gym’s wide windows. From where you’re at, you can only see the captain and four new men, which obviously isn’t good enough for you. Where is Simon?

Inching closer, you stay out of the direct line of sight, peering through the glass and into the yard. John is very clearly visible, standing with one hand on his hip while the other points at the group. He waves his hand slightly, directing the boys to another area for weight training. And then you see Johnny over by the shooting range, instructing his own group. Out of the corner of your eye, you can also see Gaz, getting some supplies ready for their next hike. And throughout all the movement, you finally spot him. The tallest man, sticking out like a sore thumb from not only his stature but that goddamn mask. 

“Down and out.” Price then says, turning to introduce a new group.

The platoon he just directed towards Simon salutes the Lieutenant as they approach the weighted section, the sight making your brows raise ever so slightly. Standing with both hands on his hips, Ghost nods, facing them straight-on. 

“Your second hike of the day will be after these reps, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be easy.” Ghost informs them, British accent deep and rough. 

The way these men follow his next few orders couldn’t be more impressive. They watch as Ghost demonstrates, adjusting weights to the bars as necessary. He then helps spot the first few men that volunteer, eyeing their form and correcting where necessary. When they’re well on their way with the reps he’s assigned them, Ghost steps off to the side, grabbing a bottle of water. The sun has very clearly worn a thin layer of sweat over him, his skin glistening with it. It makes you gulp, watching the way he swallows the water down, the way his chest heaves with a large and refreshing breath. 

Every time a recruit has a question or a comment, it’s directed toward their Lieutenant. Already, they look to him for guidance, relying on his experience and expertise. Fuck, all you want to do is drop to your knees for him. And you nearly do when they begin sparring. 

“You lot have done the least to impress me.” Ghost announces, very clearly aggravated. “You’ll make up the hike later this evening. For now, you’re gonna show me how you’ve earned a place here, and why you deserve to keep it.” 

“What the fuck haven’t we done?” One of the kids then says, shouting above the rest of the group.

Instantly, Ghost’s head whips around in his direction, eyes wide and already fuming. Your own eyes grow in size at the recruit’s comment, watching the Lieutenant stomp in his direction. 

“Sorry?” He says gruffly, “Did I hear some lousy fuckin’ comment?”

“We’ve done just as much as everyone else here.” He continues, voice slightly lower this time. 

“Yeah… you’re first up.” Ghost then decides, jerking his head. 

“Wh… What?”

“You’re sparring with me.” He says simply, walking over to the center mat. “Let’s go.” 

“I don’t, I didn’t…”

“Get your ass on this mat or I’ll be sending it home.” Ghost booms in front of the group, voice dangerously intense. 

The pure volume coming from the Lieutenant forces a jolt through the Private, body jumping slightly as he moves his feet toward the mat. Standing across from Ghost, he readies himself, showing a somewhat convincing fighting stance. He does have the proper training, after all. Cracking his neck, Simon then does the same, adjusting his footing before releasing a long, aggravated breath. 

“Let’s get this over with.” He goads, beckoning the Private forward with a simple wave of his hand. 

Gathering his courage, the kid takes a swing, shifting quickly once Ghost dodges it. He stays standing for a good thirty seconds, side-stepping a few of his Lieutenant's advances. Ghost doesn’t let him stand for long, though. Landing a blow to his ribs, Simon’s entire arm is shoved forward, outstretched and flexing as he does it. With his other hand, he then uppercuts the Private, landing him on his ass. 

The pure strength Simon’s body holds continues to astound you, and he’s done far more in his career than this little match. You’ve seen him kill men, maim them with both weapons and his own bare hands. The same hands he’s using now, covered in those boney gloves and Christ you just want them wrapped around your fucking neck.

“That fucking easy?” Ghost scoffs, circling him. “Pack your fucking shit.” 

“Sir, I -”

Simon didn’t like backtalk or insubordination, you knew this from… personal experience. So, you know that any further stuttering from the Private’s end will only cause more trouble. 

“Get outta my sight.” He says easily, walking off toward - oh, shit, you. 

Before you can duck away, Simon’s steely gaze is set directly onto your pretty, shocked face. His brows raise, head tilting with interest. Embarrassment floods your features, a shy smile crawling across your lips as you back away. He eyes you up and down through the window, taking note of the shirt you’re wearing - his. And when he lands back on your gaze, he gives you a sultry little wink that has you swooning. 

Bending down slightly, Simon grabs a water bottle from the cooler beside Price, who thankfully hasn’t noticed you. Briefly, they exchange pleasantries, with Simon speaking for a moment longer before nodding at you. It flashes fear across your face, immediately turning to shove your back against the wall and away from the window. And before you have a chance to look out again, the gym’s side door is opening.

“Bones.” Simon says quietly, though his voice echoes throughout the large and empty room. 

In the dark corner, you curl in on yourself, biting away your smile as he approaches. Calmly, he walks over to you, setting his water on the windowsill as he passes it. 

“Thought you were gonna be in my room?” He rumbles, staring down at you. 

“I was… but I got, I don’t know… lonely?” Yeah, that’s a good word for it.

Again, he raises a brow at you, tilting his head in a way that makes you feel warm between your legs. “You were watching me.” Ghost states rather than inquires. 

“Mhm,” Nodding, you admit it quite easily. There’s nothing to hide from him. 

Reaching out, Simon gently pinches the fabric on your shoulder. “And wearing my shirt around base.”

The silence that then ensues forces your breaths to new heights, watching as Simon intrudes into your space. He’s towering over you, features clouded slightly by the darkness in the room. His own breaths waft into the air between the two of you, that dominant hand lingering on your shoulder before sliding down your outer arm. And even though he can’t feel it through the fabric, his touch leaves goosebumps in its wake. 

“What did you see?” His voice is barely above a whisper, fingers tapping beneath your chin.

“You with the, um, the recruits.”

“That all?”

“Saw you spar with them, that one.” 

“Mm…” Nodding once, he sighs, both of those broad hands now lifting to your face. Cupping your jaw, he fully lifts your gaze, tilting your head back until you’re looking directly up at him. “You liked that.” Again, stating, not asking. 

It’s almost like you can’t even breathe, looking up at this menacing mountain of a man, so strong he could snap your neck as easily as he blinks. He’s crowding you back against the corner, the darkness encasing his every advance, his every move, allowing only you to experience it. 

“Yes.” Wafting out of your mouth as a shaky breath, Simon chuckles lowly at this. 

“Missed my mask, did you?”

“Missed everything about you.” 

And now, it’s his turn to feel breathless. Seeing you so openly vulnerable and wanting, so overtly admiring him, it falters his resolve. It makes him question things, his abilities, his restraint. You, a woman of power and authority, of physical and mental prowess, crumbling to your feet for him. For him.

“I’ve got an hour left,” Simon tells you, thumb sweeping across your cute cheeks. “Where will I find you?”

“In your room.” Your response is instant, eyes unwavering as they stare up into his. And he likes that, likes when you so eagerly hold eye contact. 

“Good.” Watching Ghost be so aggressive toward his men only to turn around and praise you has your brain short circuiting and your nerve endings burning. “Now…” Leaning in, Ghost presses his masked mouth to your cheek. “Go lay back down in my bed… with only this on.” Dropping one hand, his fingers pinch the fabric of his long sleeve again. “That’s how I wanna find you.”

And you’re in no position to disobey him. 

*

*

*

“Oh… Christ.”

Barely an hour later, you found yourself on your knees between his spread legs, swallowing his entire length. He’s sitting in the chair at his desk, the lights dim in his room while he watches you do this. Relaxing after a long day’s work, he lays back, arms on either rest with his pelvis shifted forward a bit. He ended up pulling his pants and boxers off completely when you sunk down to the floor for him, allowing him to spread his legs as wide as he liked. And he liked it wide. 

“Goddammit, love…” 

He’s raking his fingers through the hair at the top of your head, his own head tilted to the side as he watches with interest. His mask is still on, only the edge pulled up over his mouth so his heavy breaths can waft into the air. Steadily, you bob back and forth, doing all of the work yourself with your tongue sliding along the vein on the underside of his shaft. It makes your entire body shiver, your eyes closed as you enjoy him, his taste and musk. 

“You do it so well.” Gentle praise has fallen from his lips since the moment you got your mouth on him; he knew what it did to you. “Liked seeing me that way, did you?” Simon teases, a grin pulling at his lips. 

“Mhm,” There’s no point in denying it, he caught you red-handed. 

“Tell me,” He then demands, fingers curling into your hair to yank you off of him. It stings your scalp, mouth releasing him with a wet pop as you gasp before him. “Tell me again.”

“I loved it,” You’re completely submissive for him right now and you couldn’t be any happier about it. Panting, you breathe out heavily, “I love seeing you that way, so fucking strong, baby…” Your hands run down his naked thighs, feeling the built muscle beneath his skin. “Dominant.” 

“Mm…” Simon hums low, the sound guttural yet content. He stares into your eyes, witnessing your look of innocent, pure devotion. 

“I l-love it.” You continue on in the brief silence, wanting to please him. “I… I love you a-anyway, even when you’re injured, but I…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ghost almost barks out, cutting off your babbling. “I get it, you like me better like this. And that’s okay, sweetheart.”

Looking up at him, you release a little breath. He finishes with, “I like me better like this. Now get your fucking mouth back on it.”

Your eyes are trained on him, on the way his fist wraps around the girth of it. Guiding you back down, he holds his slick shaft up for you, feeding it into your mouth. He’s red, veins visibly pulsing beneath his sensitive skin. His length is hot as it enters your mouth, the bulb of his dick popping past your lips. 

“Fucking drooling all over me, love.” With both hands on your head, he lifts you up and down, guiding your actions. “Making a mess of yourself.”

He’s right, it’s dripping down his entire length, cool saliva sliding down the curve of his balls. The sound of it radiates throughout the room, your gentle gags occurring every now and then. But you don't pull back, you’re better than that. 

When Simon’s hand leaves, you lift yourself off of him, taking a breath before licking fervently at his leaking tip. Precum oozes from the slit, your tongue poking into it. Turning your head, you suck along the side of him, tongue rolling over the veins leading down to his base. 

“So eager for it…” 

Another little piece to this erotic scene was your nakedness. You’re entirely bare for him, following his order of presenting yourself in nothing but his long sleeve. And when he came back from training, he practically tore it off. After seeing him like that in the yard, you wanted nothing more than to sink down to your knees and swallow him. Suck his cock like it was your only purpose in life, like on your knees was the only place you needed to be. 

A deep chuckle then drags out of his throat, recalling the memory himself. “Can’t believe that scene made you wanna blow me. Maybe I should push the new recruits around a little more often.”

“Mhm,” Nodding, your eyes flutter shut, the pulse between your legs becoming overwhelming. Staring up at him while he rests in your mouth makes you tingle, eyeing the tattoos crawling up his glorious neck. 

“Liked it that much… huh?” Christ, you love it - that ridiculously deep and rich accent. 

“I fucking loved it.” Comes your breathy response, moving further down his pelvis. “Fucking love your body, Ghost. The way you act…”

“Oh…” He suddenly breathes out, watching you mouth at his balls while stroking him in hand. “Say it.” That gruff voice commands, dominant hand lowering to squeeze the base of his shaft. “Say it to me.”

As of late, Simon has been saying the phrase more and more often, and has been yearning to hear you say it, too. It’s opened a door inside his mind, one that prompts his realization of your utter obsession with him. To say the least, it’s gotten to his head. 

“I love you.”

Lifting your gaze to his makes him groan, the view he has is utterly impeccable. The most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, on her knees with her face shoved against his bare crotch. Her tiny hand stroking his cock while her smooth lips slide over his balls, sucking and licking the soft skin. 

“That’s a good girl.” Ghost immediately purrs, lips lifting into a sweet, sinister grin. This entire situation has that cocky attitude returning, the one you missed far too fucking much. 

His jaw clenches when your mouth returns to his head, sucking it in. Your heartbeat is off the rails, pounding against your ribs as you take him in. When you flick your tongue over him, you get a small taste of his precum, gently squeezing his head and watching as more flows out. When you do it again, his brows furrow, watching your tongue slide slowly over his warm flesh. 

“God dammit…” He grumbles, watching you go down on him. Before you, it’d been years since he’d last gotten a blowjob. Not only did your mouth help quench his thirst, it gave him the best highs of his entire life. 

Running the wet muscle of your tongue underneath his shaft forces a shiver to shoot through his spine. The tip of your tongue flicks over the two thick veins curling around him, along with his frenulum when you go back to his tip. And then you’re sucking on him, mouth engulfing the head and very quickly more of him. 

“Shit.” Ghost hisses, jaw dropping when you take him in all over again. “Tha - That’s it, princess. Show me how much you want me.”

Slobber drools down his length, sloppy moans slipping from your lips along with it. Taking him into your throat makes him shiver, legs shaking briefly on either side of your head. With his free hand he reaches out, cupping your jaw when you lift yourself from him. The touch has your heart leaping, gasping wetly while staring up at him. One thick thumb slides around to your lower lip, pressing on it. And he watches with amazement as you open your mouth for him, allowing his thumb to slide in. 

“You’re just what I like.” He expresses, his tone gravely and low. 

You practically vibrate with affection, closing your mouth to wrap your lips around his thumb. Sucking gently, you hold his gaze, something that drove him absolutely mad.

“Quite the fuckin’ treat.” Comes his smartass comment. Taking his thumb from your mouth and placing his hand on your head, he guides you back down. 

“I want it to be.” You coo, not agitated in the slightest. 

Going all the way down forces you to gag, your throat closing around his girth. A grunt forces its way through his chest then, feeling that river of saliva run down his crotch. 

“Fuckin’ hell.”

With the enormous amount of strength in his arms, he forces you down through your gagging fit, listening to you choke. You’re gurgling on your own spit, throat convulsing. Ghost’s biceps bulge as he uses their strength, little grunts slipping past his lips. And when he finally lets you up, you’re gasping and gulping and staring at him, now sitting up on your knees instead of leaning in.

For a moment, he stares at you, taking in your wrecked expression. Bending forward, Simon reaches for your face, his touch almost nonexistent, it’s so soft. Gently, he inquires, “Did you like that?”

Simon has never handled you so roughly before, but you can’t even begin to verbalize your pleased reaction. All you can manage is the nod of your head, and it’s enough for him to get the message. 

His expression then turns dark, his kindness fading into the night as he says, “Then come back over here so I can do it again.” 

But he’s already reaching for you, grabbing the hair at the crown of your head and forcing your mouth back onto him. You let him use you like this, use you for your mouth and throat because it’s everything you’ve ever wanted from him. He’s throbbing on your tongue from the feeling of it all, the wet heat of your mouth, the soft skin of your lips. Rolling his eyes back, he rests his head on the top of the chair, gaze quickly returning so he can stare at your pretty face while he fucks it. And this couldn’t be any more arousing for you - you can feel yourself dripping. 

“Jesus,” Gritting his teeth, he groans. “You’re gonna make me cum like this.” 

Your girlish moan vibrates through his pelvis, making his hips jump against your mouth. And when that happens, you choke again, listening to his delirious noises. Now, he’s thrusting his cock into your throat, your nose brushing against the lightly colored hair scattered around his base. 

“Stay down,” He commands, pressing down on the back of your head. “Stay just like that.” 

Pressing your hands to the tops of his thighs, you choke, trying your best to shove the reaction aside. Your fingers press into his firm flesh, nails scraping his skin. The way he holds you down makes your eyes roll back, his hips repeatedly grinding up against your face. 

“God yes,” Licking his lower lip, he stares down at you, the tendons in his forearms flexing. “Fuck me, I’m gonna cum.” Simon’s chest inhales a large breath as he then declares, “Gonna cum in your mouth, B.” 

“Mhm,” Is all you can do to respond, your mouth completely stuffed full of him.

“C-Christ, fuck.” Throwing his head back, Simon grunts, the sound shaky and loud. 

The violent throb of him in your throat is followed by the slick rush of his cum, thick and hot. It coats your mouth and tongue, leaking into the back of your throat. And he watches as you swallow it down, eagerly, chest heaving as you attempt to catch your breath. 

Simon keeps you down, head lolling back as his lungs begin to relax. But while the rest of his body calms, he doesn’t. He’s still stiff in your mouth, still resting heavily on your tongue. Hand sliding down, he then cups your jaw, gently pushing you off. And even when you’re gone, he’s still hard, standing at full attention and resting on his covered, lower abdomen. The sight couldn't make you feel more excited; you were hoping he’d want more. 

“I want you.” It’s expressed through a dramatic sigh, still on your knees for him. And you’re hoping, truly praying, that he’ll take the lead this time. You’ve yet to have sex in any other position than you on top, since he’s still technically recovering. And while you love riding Simon, the dominance you saw back in the yard… you need that. 

“I know you do.” With heavy lids, he gazes down at you, nodding with a sigh. “I want you too, princess.” 

You’re precious to him, precious and pretty and dainty and his. His response prompts a quiet, needy whine from your throat, lips pouting slightly as you wait for his next move. And then, he’s lifting a lazy hand and beckoning you up to him with the curl of two fingers. Smile blooming prettily, you follow his command, leaning into his movement. Cupping your cheek, Simon brings you in for a kiss, hands dropping to your hips so he can urge you up and onto his lap. 

A low groan emanates from his chest as he leans into the sweet press of your lips, both hands falling to your ass when you climb on top of him. He palms at you, strong hands applying pressure with his fingers digging into your naked skin. More than usual, he focuses on your curves, his teeth biting at your lower lip when you wiggle back into his hands. The wetness your mouth left on his crotch smears across the space between your legs when you sit on him, grinding gently over his erection. 

“What do you think about me fucking you tonight?” He grumbles against your mouth, briefly baring his teeth at the mere thought of it. Ghost inhales a small hiss, working himself up all over again. 

“Yes,” Nodding fervently, your insides pulse with excitement. “Yes, please.” 

Wrapping your arms around the column of his neck, you bring yourself further in, mouthing sloppily at him. And Simon accepts this, entertains it, even. His tongue lays out, welcoming your own to slide across it. He can taste himself on your mouth, but he doesn’t really mind; he actually sort of likes it. 

“And what do you think about it being…” Sliding a hand down the crease between your cheeks, he uses the pad of his middle finger to rub lightly over your tightest hole, the one he’s yet to explore, to claim. “Here?”

He’s never suggested this before, and it catches you completely off guard. The two of you haven’t discussed this or alluded to it, you never even knew he liked that sort of thing. Simon can sense your brief hesitancy, and chuckles deeply.

“You ever had anyone fuck your ass before, sweetheart?” From your timid response, he assumes the answer will be no. He's hoping the answer will be no; he wants to be the first. 

And now, you grin. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He snaps back, aggravated. His hands tighten their grip on your ass, growling out the word, “Who?”

Shrugging at his suddenly possessive nature, you giggle. “Past boyfriends.”

“Get up.” Ghost suddenly grunts, shoving you off of his lap. “Get on my fucking bed.” 

Stumbling backwards, you huff, shaking your head. But Ghost just grabs your arms when he stands, turning you around and shoving you over the side of his mattress. He’s then lifting his shirt and tossing it down on the sheets. 

“I wish you wouldn’t wear these.” He grumbles, shoving aside the bralette you had laying on the covers. 

Puffing out a laugh, you ask, “You want me to walk around base without a bra?” 

He shrugs, hands palming at your ass. “I’d like it.” 

“Yeah? I bet the boys would, too.”

Simon’s head snaps up at your comment, eyes staring daggers into the back of your head. His hands don’t stop moving, though. With a harsh tug that drags you further back toward his crotch, he bends over the arch of your spine. 

“You shut your mouth.” Comes that threatening tone, his dominant arm wrapping around your front to grab at your jaw. “You’re just for me.” 

“Is that right?” You grin, the curl of your lips visible from the side. 

“That’s right.” Turning your head in his grasp, he strains your neck, reaching for your lips with sloppy veneration. And while he does that, he drops a hand between your legs.  Thick fingers slide between your thin lips, feeling your wetness. “Oh…”

But then he’s retracting them all too quickly, both hands finding purchase on your hips. Removing his mouth from yours, Simon stands upright, urging you to shift forward on his bed. Lifting one knee at a time, you do, crawling forward over his covers. Instantly, he’s up on the mattress behind you, resting on his knees, too. Pulling you upright, he hugs your back to his chest, slotting his stiffness between your cheeks while burying his face into the slope of your neck. Smaller hands reach back to find Simon’s muscular thighs, while his own broad palms cup your breasts. 

It’s too easy for you to relax into his touch, his embrace. Ghost’s body is warm and firm against your own, allowing your muscles to loosen. And just as you’re starting to rest back against him, he begins to move, gently shifting his hips. 

“Baby…” Bare fingers flick across your nipples, causing your body to jolt and your moans to heighten. 

“Keep quiet, gorgeous.” He mumbles deeply, chest vibrating against your back while he licks the curve of your neck. 

“Simon, please.” Your hips buck backward against him, feeling his length grind into you from behind. The power and pure strength his body holds is impressive, intimidating, and you want him to use it to his advantage. 

“Mm…” Moaning against your skin, he releases a rough sigh over your throat, teeth nipping at the hinge of your jaw. “You want me?”

“Yes, baby.” Inhaling a tight breath, you nod, head falling back onto his shoulder. “But we, we’ll need lube.” It’s been ages since someone did this to you, and the fact that Simon so badly wants to has you reeling. 

“Who says I haven’t got it already?” 

The comment makes your forehead crease with curiosity. But before you can even question him, he’s reaching toward his nightstand. The top drawer has what he’s looking for, and as if he can sense your confusion, he says, “Had this for a while now.”

Glancing down, he pops it open, and you’re left to assume he’s covering his first finger in it. But when he drops a hand to your crease, you find that he’s wet two of them, the slippery digits now massaging your taut hole. 

“Why haven’t you…” Sucking in a tight breath of air, you feel Simon begin to slide his middle digit inside, only to the first knuckle. “Why haven’t you used it? Why haven’t you done this?” 

“Did you really think I was gonna let this happen during my recovery? Laying down on that goddamn bed?” He sounds offended, words spoken harshly against the shell of your ear. But his finger doesn’t stop moving, slowly retracting before diving deeper inside. 

“No,” Ghost shakes his head, lips brushing over your jaw. “Wasn’t gonna let it happen like that. Wanted it to be this way, just like this… your body against mine, at my mercy.” 

A sudden wince jolts its way through your body, the tiniest whimper slipping past your lips. He’s shoved his finger almost entirely inside, and you’re throbbing around the intrusion. 

“You alright, gorgeous?” He inquires after placing a sloppy kiss on your neck.

“Stings.” Comes your timid response, eyes pinching shut. 

“Yeah…” Simon starts, removing his finger before pouring more lube between your cheeks. “But you want it to hurt a little bit, don't you? Little bit of pain mixed with the pleasure…” Before the lube can drip onto his bed, he’s scooping it up with his fingers and prodding you open with both of them.

“Yes…” His words force a trail of ecstasy to bore its way through your very being, allowing you to welcome him in quite easily. “I want, want you. Want whatever the fuck you want to do.”

With your chest puffing out full breaths, Simon growls, mouthing at your shoulder before sinking his teeth in. 

“I’ll give it to you, babe. Just let me do this first.” His breaths have grown ragged and he’s not even inside you yet. “Gonna work you open, nice and proper.”

Quiet cries and shrill whines spill from your throat the more he continues, feeling your hot walls pulsing around his first digit, humming happily when you fully take it inside. And then there’s the second, stretching you wide, opening yourself for him. 

“Thought you’d done this before?” He teases, listening to your sounds. 

“It’s been a while.” You try to put as much sass as you can into your tone but it’s hard when your head is resting back against his shoulder and he’s got two fingers inside you. 

“Mm…” Quietly, he groans, eyes watching your facial expressions from the side. “Just look at you, B. Look at that face, oh, just look at that fucking face…”

It’d be difficult for him to admit, but he’s just as obsessed with you as you are him. If not more. Everything about you makes him mad in the goddamn head, twists everything he once believed in into confusing gibberish that you’ve replaced with love, love. Pure, unwavering love. 

“Walkin’ around this base with authority,” Ghost continues, feeling you swallow his digits whole. “Giving commands to everyone but only dropping to your knees for me.”

“Yes.” It’s an automatic expression because it’s true.

“You ready for me?”

“I wan-wanna try.” Sex with Simon made you feel excited and desired, but right now, you feel more vulnerable than ever. You’re relying on him to make this good for you, to treat you gently until you’re able to take it rough. And he’s happy doing that for you. 

Another pop of the cap, another wet stream of lubrication. Only, it’s for himself this time, not you. Behind your form you can hear the slick sounds of Simon pumping his shaft, squeezing it kindly while rubbing himself against you. 

“Christ… I want you.” 

Wrapping an arm around, you find the back of his head, still mostly covered by his mask. Holding him, you sigh, your head still resting back against his shoulder as you whine, “Please.”

With that simple plea, he’s positioning himself, the bulb of his dick rubbing and quickly popping past your rim. It forces the release of a muffled cry, biting the corner of your lip. But Simon doesn’t stop, just covers the entirety of your shoulder, neck, and cheek in kisses. He could be surprisingly gentle, when he wanted to be. 

“You can take it, B.” He coos into your ear, encouraging you. “Relax, babe. C’mon, relax against me. I’ve got you.” 

It couldn’t be more comforting, what he’s saying to you. Wrapping his left arm around your midsection, he places his right hand on your hip, keeping you steady against him. And when he’s halfway in, he takes a pause, feeling your breaths, the way your stomach and chest are moving beneath his arm. But then, he feels you give in, feels your muscles loosen. Your weight slowly falls back onto him, a blissful sigh releasing from your lungs. 

“There she is,” Simon praises, mouthing at your ear. “My good listener.” 

Slowly, Simon sits back on his haunches, pulling your hips back with him as he dives deeper inside. Your backslide slots perfectly into his pelvis, both of those strong arms now encircling your stomach. Helping you to relax further is the gentle sensation of his hand, sliding up your abdomen to cup your chest. Simon’s fingers play gently with your nipple, sighing out against the side of your face. 

“Oh… we’re almost there, love.”

You’re doing your best to breathe through it; this is such a different sensation than having him between your legs. And just as that thought hits you, one of those broad palms makes its way down to your most sensitive space. He’s using his left hand, completely clean and now moving to cup you. The moan the action elicits prompts him to continue, rubbing you kindly while pushing his hips forward. 

“Just like that.” When he’s finally fit himself inside, he groans, loud and guttural. Ghost’s hold on you becomes tight, hot breaths washing over your cheek. “C’mere.”

Grabbing your jaw, he turns your head, devouring your lips. “Strong girl.” 

Feeling him bottom out inside you is an entirely different level of ecstasy. And rubbing your clit only heightens the pleasure vibrating through your hips. 

“Don’t s-stop.” 

“You like that?”

“Ghost,” Groaning out, you take in a breath, rotating your hips back against him.

“Fuck me; you’re askin’ for it.”

“Yeah, I am.” 

In one smooth motion, he’s sliding a finger into your cunt, feeling the wetness dripping from it. Retracting it, he uses your slick to rub over your clit, rolling his hips and meeting your movements. 

“Like how it feels?” Simon huffs, biting down on his lip. Finally, finally, he pulls out, only about halfway before ramming back in. 

“Baby,”

“I’m not stopping now.” Ghost declares, thrusting into your tightest hole like he was made for it. “So fucking tight, B - Jesus.”

It makes you laugh, the shakiness to his voice. He’s worked himself up to this, claiming you in this way. And the quicker he moves, the better it feels, every ridge and vein rubbing against your inner walls. Using you as leverage, he wraps his arms around you once again, pulling you back to bounce on his lap. 

“Oh my fucking god,”

In a sense, he feels more vulnerable than usual, too. Shoving his face into the crook of your neck, he pants against you. The rapid movement causes the black fabric of his mask to slip up to his forehead, and with a quick shake of his head, it’s landing on the floor. Immediately, your fingers curl into his hair, slick from sweat and clinging to your digits. 

“I love you,” It’s a shaky whisper, this promise. “Love this.”

Every muscle in Simon’s chest and stomach is flexing against your back, his body’s impressive strength on full display. And he’s still rubbing you, still using his thick fingers to play with your clit.

“Yes, baby…” 

“You’re so fucking perfect, letting me do this to you…” The feeling of you squeezing him so hotly has his head spinning, your gorgeous body in his arms and all his for the taking. “And you know what? I love you, too, you fuckin’ little slag. I adore my perfect pet.”

“Simon, I n-need…”

“I know what you need,” He huffs out, bouncing his hips up against your ass and bottoming out with every thrust. 

It’s shocking to see that even his resolve is slipping, his fingers and hips stuttering in their movements already. Usually, Simon’s second round lasted longer than the first. But this? This is an entirely different situation. 

“You’re gonna cum for me?” You ask with a grin, turning your head to kiss his jaw.

“Not yet,” He insists, “Not until you finish, love.”

“It’s okay, baby. Wanna feel it…” You can tell he’s having trouble lasting, his hips shivering and his breaths wavering. “C’mon, baby. Cum for me, claim me.”

And that has him fucking spiraling. He’s not sure what to call it, a primal kink? Whatever it is, you’ve struck gold with it. 

Ghost’s spend blooms warmly inside you, hips pelvis slapping against your backside until his movements slow to gentle grinds. The weight of his body presses into you, his mouth open as he gasps. Deep, brown eyes force themselves shut, arms holding you impossibly tight as the pleasure wreaks havoc on his body. He mouths at your neck, sure to leave bruises and bitemarks by the morning. 

“Simon,” Something between a groan and a whine falls from your mouth, feeling him fill you in this way. 

“Baby,” And it’s the first time you’ve ever heard a genuine whimper from him. “You’re perfect, you’re perfect.”

“Sh…” Petting his head, you urge him to relax, to calm himself.

Something about this moment feels… fragile. He feels fragile. But in truth, everything about your relationship is forcing any and all emotion to his surface; his pale, firm, marred surface. He doesn’t deserve this, your unwavering devotion. Through his attitude, his injuries, your strange occupations, once you had a taste of him, you were hooked. You’ve never left him, never even come close to it. Thankful isn’t a good enough word for how he feels. 

“Pretty doll… you’re just what I want.”

“You have me.”

*

*

*

“You gonna take that off?” With a smile, you trace the outline of his face black, still on from when you’d applied it for him.

“Later.” Simon mumbles, eyes closed.

Heavy arms drape over your body, holding you close. There were few forces in this world that could tear him away. 

“Sleepy?” You tease kindly, cupping his face. His face; out of everyone he could pick, he chose you to see his face. 

“You’re not?”

After Simon finished, he laid you down on his bed. His mouth roamed your neck, the curves of your chest and waist, all the way down until he found himself between your legs. He watched his cum drip from between your cheeks, scooping it up to push it back inside while he licked your pretty lips. It was rare that he left you without finishing, and this time was no exception. 

“I am,” Shrugging, you snuggle into his hold. It’s grown late now, the night taking hold and consuming the room in near blackness. “Can’t stop looking at you, though.”

He grins, mumbling, “Cheeky.”

“Handsome.” You return, kissing his nose.

Tomorrow happens to be one of his days off, allowing the two of you to sleep in. That’ll be a nice change, spending the day together instead of focusing on assignments and missions. Work has kept you both rather busy these past few weeks, and you’ve been missing him dearly. Even if you slept in his bed, going on throughout the day without so much as hearing from him hurt your heart. But for now, you’re reveling in this. 

Lazily, Simon reaches around, grabbing at your ass. Giving it a small slap, he sighs, smoothing his palm over the softness of it. The action makes you giggle, shaking your head. Insatiable man.

“Let me rest.” Ghost insists, feeling you trace the tattoos on his neck and chest.

“Can’t help it.”

“C’mon, now.” He’s trying his best to act all grumpy but can’t hide the grin pulling at his lips. Yanking you even closer to his body, he chuckles. Lifting a hand to the back of your head, Simon pulls you into his chest, kissing your hair as he says, “Sleep with me, love. Just sleep with me.” 

[noctxj]

hanahaki disease “… in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies…”

part i / part ii / part iii / part iv

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

“have you considered trying to make your feelings known?”

all things considered, the bed agent was sitting upon was more comfortable than what the barracks’ had.

but not as cozy as kyles’ chest—

“i can’t,”

the doctor frowns, pausing his tapping on the tablet, his eyes looking up to search agents face; not staring at him, rather just across from them.

a blank canvas—in pain—but nonetheless a perfect mask of apathy—

“why not?”

“i just can’t, doctor.”

agent sighs, turning their sober gaze to the doctor. simply put, agent would not have been able to take their rejection— their disgust, their hatred, their bellows to leave and never come back, once they realised an outsider who did not even belong within the same scope as the taskforce would develop such frivolous feelings such as love. agent would never be able to witness them renouncing the contract laswell carefully pieced together, watch their backs turn on agent for the last time, visibly see the trust delicately built over the past several months to crumble away into nothing, as if it never existed, as if they never existed, as if they never touched agents life in a way no other had been able to.

the doctors eyes remained steadfast on agents, a silent urge to continue.

“… i know that… that i wouldn’t be able to bear their… rejection… but this, this procedure?”

diverting their gaze to their lap, swallowing back the familiar metallic taste on their tongue.

“this... this i know i can endure” 

i’ve been through worse—

the silent words allowing agent to meet the doctors eyes again.

you’ll see eventually doctor, all my scars: permanent reminders. reminders born from miscalculations, wrong decisions, torture—

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

the same scars the taskforce were mistakenly exposed to. an undercover mission with agent used as bait for their target within a gala. a mission that wondrously ended up with the back of agents’ strapless dress ripped all the way down to their tailbone— stupid man with his stupidly gaudy rings— a furious agent using one hand to clasp the front of their dress lest they flash the idiotic target, and a handgun in the other, pointed at said idiot dazedly sprawled on the floor with a bloody (broken) nose.

agents’ back to the door as the taskforce spilled through, following agents’ signal for backup, only for agent to hear them pause by the doorway, their breaths collectively inhaled at the same time— 

“who did this to you?”

simon’s gravelly voice asked— no, demanded. agent turned their head, handgun still pointing at the (idiot) target, confusion written on their face, brows furrowing as instead of responding, stomped over until he was looming over agent.

“ghost, now is not the time—“ the captain tried to reason as the air seemed to get tighter and tighter.

“who. did. this. to. you.” not a demand anymore, but an order. one of simon’s gloved hands sweeping over the raised discoloured scars running along agents back; a pattern of scars resonant of whip marks, some of cigarette burns and others as if skin was gouged over and over and never allowed to heal properly again. 

agent who blinked, once, twice, before slowly turning their head forward again, avoiding simon, john, kyle and johnny’s faces’. handgun slowly lowered till it was facing the ground, a hollowness seemingly eating at agent from the inside out—

“it doesn’t matter. i killed all of them anyway.”

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

agent could only imagine the bleeding cracks that were appearing on their carefully placed mask, the madness that had been chasing them their entire life finally being able to swallow them whole. another soulless killer… assassin… spy… murderer, feeding off of rotting corpses just to survive another day, another assignment. agent was able to taste happiness and love for the first time, an addiction they never could have prepared themselves for; never could have foreseen it leading to a solution providing more pain— more pain to just to remain in all of their lives for just a little longer.

“and what if you’re wrong?”

… what if? my entire life has been nothing but timing and precision; the notion of “what if” is equal to failure and death—

“what if they return your feelings?”

agent could feel a plume of flowers unfurling at the base of their throat.

“… i wouldn’t deserve them.”

could feel them slowly fluttering their way up their throat.

“doctor, i’m by no means a good person; have never pretended to be. i’m not someone worthy let alone deserving of love.”

but i’ll rip myself apart over and over just to be around you all for just a little more time—

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

“now, if you could count to ten out loud for me please”

“one…”

everything will be okay— 

“two...”

agent could feel a tangled swath of thorns and petals pushing themselves up their throat—

“it’s okay, just keep breathing. keep counting for me.”

“… three…”

once this is done, i can return to them. they don’t have to know, they’ll never have to know— 

“… four...“

agent could feel their mind slow down, their thoughts feeling nonsensical; the effort almost pointless as everything began to flicker in and out of focus, blurry at the edges.

“… f-five…”

in the distance, agent could hear a loud commotion coming from behind the closed doors. what was that? their eyes fluttering, noticing the nurse holding the mask sending a questioning look to the doctor, his attention turned towards the door.

agent could hear… yelling? they— more than one, had deep, masculine voices. 

why did they sound so familiar?

agent took a hold of the nurses’ wrist, their attention snapping back to them; communicating to ease the mask off their face as thunderous reverberations of heavy footsteps grew louder and louder, until there was a split second of silence— and then the doors to the surgery room swung open with a resounding crack as they slammed back against the walls. 

four large bodies barging through the seemingly small doorway, blurred masses of power—

it was them.

they—what?

how—?

agent could feel their eyes blink in surprise, the panic slowly filtering in through the fuzziness of their brain.

nononono—

theyshouldntbehere—!!

despite agents mind racing, the small amount of anaesthetic had already taken effect; only seeming to slacken their grip of nurses’ wrist, agents’ finer motor skills out of reach—

—including the effort of swallowing back the vicious thorns and bloodied flowers now erupting out of agents mouth in a painful choke; blood spraying against the mask and now the nurses’ hands as they are ripped away—by simon?? 

a skull mask with such dark eyes—so close— reaching out to grasp their shoulder to turn their body to the side, his familiar scent of dark whisky, and just simon invading agent’s senses as they follow the direction of his pull. another pair of warm gloved hands on their back and hip assisting in the turn—kyle? his calming earthy scent that reminded agent of the heat of the sun, wafting to their nose. with another familiar—and safe— scent seemingly punching through the mix of simon and kyles— johnny? an addictive smell of sweet cinnamon akin to one of his addictive bear hugs that he often followed up with a playful ruffle to the head, now instead gently cradling agents head forward.

agent couldn’t stop the onslaught of mixed emotions and painful hacking up of blood, flowers and thorny stems spilling out onto the cold floor. confusion, helplessness, fear— a concoction that only seemed to encourage another heaving of blood and flower petals. 

i-i-icant-thisistoomuch—

the beeping of the bp monitor now frantically blaring out in a staccato rhythm, agents’ panic mixed with their chocked hacking reflecting their suffocating agony.

ithurtstoomuch— 

the hand formerly gripping the nurses’ wrist left flailing in the air, until a heavy set of hands grasp it and hold it against a prickly—john? agent trying to focus their tear filled eyes onto the blurred figure kneeled before them. the captain whose rough and calloused yet gentle hands encompassing theirs against his mouth; puffs of his breath hot agents’ cold trembling fingers, his smoky scent swirling around agent in a dizzying trance. 

“it’s okay little love, were here.” john lowly murmurs against their fingers, the plush feeling of his lips and prickly beard sweeping across agents’ knuckles so lovingly.

as if it was following a command from their captain, agents’ tense body finally relaxed back onto the sheets (and their beloveds’ gentle embraces). feeling safe and secure for the first time in weeks since leaving the taskforce; the distant beeping of the monitor slowing down in its rhythm—

only for agents eyes to finally close in exhaustion, as the last of the crimson petals drop from between their bloodied lips. 

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

tric’s notes

i love how i keep saying to myself like yeah this’ll be the last part aND THEN IT ISNT (ಥ‿ಥ) peak clownery. the amount of dialogue keeps increasing (as is the word count) per chapter but uhh oh well. 

had a lil flashback midway there, i may write short? drabbles of little peeks as to how their relationship developed from the day agent met the taskforce = a potluck of more angst and pining!! yaayyyy !!!! but dw there will also be fluff and shenanigans to heh (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

part iv will defs be the last one of this series ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ̀ˋ

thanks for reading this far!! ♡︎♡︎

crossposted on ao3 (same username!) 

[sant-riley]

[Black Out Days]

A mission goes wrong

Pairing: Ghost x OFC!reader (Teddy)

A/N: requested by a LOVELY anon turned friend, they really got me with this suggestion and now it's here lmfao. I hope this is okay! Kinda left my comfort zone to write this one :) comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Word count: 2.5k

TW/CW: Age gaps, Bodily harm, blood mentions, mission going wrong, angst, angst with happy ending, Ghost being conflicted and kinda an ass? (as always lmk if I miss anything!)

--

It was just a simple mission, it was just a fucking reconnaissance mission. Now she can feel her heart start to slow, her ears ringing as she weakly whimpers in pain. Her hands shakily brushing her side, fingers coming back saturated in her blood. 

Not good. Very much not good.

~

Teddy doesn't care for recons, having to sit in one place for hours on end never bid her well. She much rather be following her partners around in on the field, not high up in the middle of bum fuck nowhere with a m40 that she's not even confident she can use correctly.

 That's what Soap had been helping her in the shooting range, long range weaponry. Her mind was running, trying desperately to find something to grasp onto, anything to make the time go by faster. She has half a mind to start messing with the comms but thought better of it. She wonders what Price and Gaz are up to back at base, what dinner will be, if they'll even be home by tonight at that.

Ghost was stationed on the other side of the compound where the target was, Soap closer to the grounds than either of them. Looking down the scope, she sees Soap and his body outline, his tactical gear making him even look bulkier than normal. Shouts ensue and he's suddenly moving, running to take cover and shit he's opening fire. 

She quickly readjusts and starts to pick off any enemy she can see, sweat on her brow as she pants from the adrenaline. Bodies after bodies fall but there's still just so fucking many. She knows there's no way in hell that the three of them can possibly thin the crowd out, not when separated, not with no backup.

"Soap, How copy?" Ghost gruffly speaks into the comms, faint gunshots can be heard through his mic.

"The bloody fucking bastards spotted me! Fucking bullshit!" More Gaelic cursing as Soap moves from cover to cover, moving backwards.

Ghost curses under his breath, starting to make his way down, running towards where Johnny is to help return fire lest the scot gets overwhelmed.

"Teddy, how copy? Need you to cover us." 

 Ghost watches an armed guard run up on him, the man getting way too close for comfort. He unsheathes and flicks one of his knives out of his thigh holsters, ready to throw with full force into the bastards neck. Right when the man drops down like all gravity escaped him, a good portion of his head is laying down on the pavement. Ghost feels the blood spray but doesn't pay any mind to it.

"Already doing it L.T." She breathes, quickly moving her focus back to Soap's location after making sure Ghost was okay to proceed moving.

"Atta girl." 

She pretends the heat rushing to her face isn't due to the pet name, just her nerves. Teddy watches as the two men convene and breathes out a sigh of relief. Momentarily distracted, fumbling to reload, she doesn't hear the footsteps come up behind her. A Rookie mistake that she will indefinitely beat herself up over if she somehow survives this.

It doesn't take long for a gunshot to ring out, and she lets out a blood curdling scream. White blinds her as she squeezes her eyes tight, her body curling in on itself, trying in vain to stop the pain.

For the amount of pain she's in, she's fortunate that whoever just shot her into her side, figures that's enough and rushes down towards the compound, leaving her to bleed out. Damn, not even worth the second bullet to finish her off? Kinda funny if she says so herself. The stinging is getting worse and she feels fluid rush from her body. Okay, maybe not funny.

She forces her arms to move herself, forcing her body to flip over onto her back. With more strength than she ever thought needed to just use her fucking hand, clicking the comm to life.

"Gh..ghost-" a groan cuts her off, her body trembling as she starts to feel woozy.

"Teddy, how copy?" Ghost mutters, his nerves are shot, he hears the scream. Not alot of things can unsettle him anymore, not after what he's seen and done but her scream gets to him more than he'll ever admit.

Soap curses and whirls around, looking at the Lieutenant with a shout. His accent getting thicker and thicker.

"Oh fuck, we gotta move, now L.T."

Soap juts his chin towards your location, his breathing getting heavy. He's trying to meet Ghost's eyes.

Ghost refuses to meet them, he has to be the calm one here, no matter what his body may be telling him otherwise.

"Teddy! How copy?" The sweat coming down his face is disgusting, he can feel his heartbeat out of his damn chest.

"'m losin' alot of blood si, I don't-" She's crying, hearing the sniffling.

"I'm scared." That's what springs Ghost and Soap to start gunning it. Not even looking behind them to see if they're being followed.

Ghost shot off like a bat out of hell.

Teddy hears him curse louder than she ever has, hearing him start to pant. He must be running towards her.

"Soap, follow and cover!" It must be bad if he's not even attempting to use military talk.

"Aye." Soap quickly responds, following Ghost from a short distance. His hands tightening harshly, knuckles turning pale as he pushes himself to keep up.

A few moments passed as she tried to get the lump from her throat to go away. She's barely conscious now, her eyes keep fluttering.

"Si, Johnny, I don't think I'm gonna make it." She whimpers. It pushes Ghost to run faster, faster than he's ever run in his entire life.

"Shut the fuck up with talking like that, I'm coming." Ghost snarls, zeroing in on the area she was meant to be safe at. God fucking damnit. A fucking reconnaissance mission.

"Don't worry Lass, good ol' Johnny and Ghost are coming to save ya." Soap added, trying his best to get the mood even a fraction bit lighter, He feels his legs start to burn and ache.

Soap only gets a faint chuckle back, followed by a pain filled groan.

"Ghost, I need to tell you something." She stares up at the treeline, watching the leaves move about in the wind. There were alot of things she could tell him, how much she loves spending time with him, watching movies, teaching him about internet culture, how much she appreciated him going out his way to look out for her, to taking her in, for trusting her, for, dare she say it, loving her. She told herself it wasn't romantic at first, but it was impossible to not fall for him once he let her in. It wasn't her fault, it was as natural as breathing for her to fall in love with Simon.

Though that's too many words for too little time. So she'll have to settle for something shorter. She prays to a God she isn't quite sure she believes in that Ghost doesn't meet her one day and beat her ass for what she's about to pull.

 She had no clue if he shared her romantic feelings, she figured it didn't matter now. One hand are on side, weakly trying to put pressure and the other holding onto her necklace, running her fingers on the charm that lays there.

"Don't. Don't you fucking dare."

"I lo…" Before she can finish her sentence, she sees black, hearing thundering footsteps approach her and a shout of her real name. Funny, no one ever called her that anymore.

~

  Everyone is in a scramble when she's brought in, curled up in Ghost's arms while Soap shoves through the doors to call for medics.

The extraction came quickly after Ghost bundled her into his arms, Soap calling Price and telling him off the situation. They have never heard Price bark out orders as harshly and as fast as he did, no doubt he's the reason 141's base is a mess.

Gaz is there, yelling and shouting her name as he watches from the sidelines, asking what the the fuck happened as he frantically looks back and forth to Ghost and Soap, to Teddy who lays limply in the specters arms.

 Price is there ordering the medics to hurry the hell up, his body high strung while his eyes zoned in on Teddy, he feels bile rise in his throat. 

"Son, what the fuck happened to 'er?!"

Medics come running, arms reaching to grab Teddy and place her on a stretcher. Ghost tightens his grip for a second, looking down at how pale she's become, and hands her over, a tremble in his hands. Her blood soaks his gear, his hoodie, down to his undershirt. It makes his skin crawl as he stands there, watching her get farther and farther away from him.

He can see Soap, Price and Gaz try and get his attention but can't move, can't utter a damn word while he watches.

He stands there for God knows how long, staring down the hallway.

~

First thing she hears is beeping, every second. It's fucking annoying and she turns to roll over and turn it off until her skin pulls and she legs out a "fuck!".

She peels up each one of her eyes, squinting against the harsh lights of the room. Stark white, the nasty smell of disinfectant. Ah, so she's alive. She groans as the pain finally seeps in. The heart beat monitor beeping more as she awakes, her anxiety mounting.

There's a rush of a pair of heavy footsteps that rush towards her cot, the curtain being swung back to see Ghost, who funnily enough is pale enough to be his namesake. She tries to formulate a sentence but all she can do it let out a pathetic noise from her mouth. She wants to hug him, so bad, she just wants to feel safe again but she can't move from this fucking bed. Her legs won't cooperate with her heart that screams to get closer.

He reaches her cot in seconds, putting his hands on the side of the bed, gripping the rail with enough force to snap it if he pushed any further.

"God fucking damnit runt." He breathes out, his eyes scanning her flushed face. His thumb caresses the bandage that lays there on her cheek. 

She can't help but lean into it, basking in the contact.

She shoots him a weak smile, eyes tearing up as she sees him again, not through a lens, he's here and he's warm. She's okay, they saved her.

Ghost sucks in a ragged breath before his eyes steel and he looks down at her. He suddenly looks all too big, too intimidating.

"You have alot of fucking nerve in that head of yours, to say what you did."

The fucking audacity she has, to confess her love to a old man while she's fucking dying on the cold ground. Not a message to her family, not a message of her fighting, nothing. Just a love confession for a man who doesn't deserve it

She tries to play dumb, looking confused trying desperately not to burst into tears. The repercussions of her actions hitting her like a fucking truck all over again.

"I'm not sure what-"

"Don't play fucking dumb with me. You know damn well what you said. Say it again." Another growl, he's looking at her like he wants to shake her.

"Ghost I don't think-" She's pleading.

"Damnit Teddy! Fucking say it!"

She feels herself snap, the overload of emotions that she's felt since she joined the task force coming out.

"What do you want me to say? That I love you? Because I fucking do, I've loved you ever since I met you! Is that what you wanna hear? The Rookie has a crush on her superior? The secrets out, I know you don't see me that way, you don't have to tell me!" She feels her cheek dampen as she starts to breath heavily, her emotions overwhelming her. Ghost says nothing, his eyes widened beneath the balaclava. If she was in a clearer state of mind, she's notice he didn't have the black smudge around his eyes, or that the bags under his eyes were darker. May have noticed his red they were too.

"I didn't mean to fall in love with you! I didn't!" She hiccups, voice straining as she shoves her hands up to her face, trying to muffled herself.

She knows she should shut up already, but almost nearly dying, she can't bring herself to care all too much.

"I love you, I love you so much it hurts, you see me as some stupid little kid and it fucking hurts.

All her life, she was just a kid to people, it didn't matter what she did, how she acted, how she dressed, no one treated her as an adult. No one ever took her feelings seriously, always being told that it was just a phase. No one ever cared how she felt til she came here. Until she met the team. For the first time she felt like she mattered. And here she was ruining it.

Her hands are gently pried from her face, skeleton gloves in her eyesight as her body trembles.

"You're just confused kid, relax." A slip of his tongue, he immediately knows he's fucked up with the petname. He didn't mean to say that, he truly didn't but he was so taken aback at her confession. He wasn't thinking. 

He could feel her stare on him til she started chuckling to herself, her body getting rigid, yanking her hands away and shoving him away with what little strength she has.

"See! You think I'm a kid! Fine, you know what? Send me out already, get it over with. Discharge me-"

Her voice is rising in volume, the heart beat monitor going haywire. She's surprised there's not a nurse here yet.

"Can you shut that mouth of yours for one damn second so I can speak?" He shouts, he regrets yelling but she's spiraling and he needs to put a stop to it now.

Your mouth snaps closed, staring with glassy eyes up at him.

"I have never, never cared for someone as much as I care for you."  He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, his two hands on her shoulders as he tries to collect his thoughts. It feels like his head is fucking ringing, information overload.

He knows he should say the word love back, she deserves to know but truth be told he's fearful. If he says that one word, it all becomes too real, she becomes truly someone that he loves and cherishes and that is fucking horrifying.

He moves his hands down, gently until he reaches her hands, where he intertwines them. She stares at where they meet, her body involuntary trembling.

She's so fucking small and fragile, young and pretty, God. He knows he shouldn't, he needs to be Ghost and put his foot down but he can't. Simon is creeping in and taking control. He wants to be selfish for the first time in God knows how long.

Ghost pulls up his mask, just above his lips while she shudders at seeing the stubble and faint scars that run across his skin. Her pupils were blown out and wide, her breath catching in her throat.

Gently pulling her forward to kiss her forehead, his lips are rough and chapped. She feels a joke creep in her mind but decides against it.

He rests his forehead on hers, using one hand to tangle itself in her hair as he looks into her eyes.

"You're mine, got that? I'm yours, so stop that shit, you're not going anywhere, ever."

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[rosepinksky]

Pay For My Time (pt. 7)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x OFC

In which Ghost's neighbour drags him in for dinner, and then ruins his life.

Warnings: cunnilingus, PIV sex (all consensual!)

word count: 2.5k

ao3 link

part 1 (smutty!)

masterlist

Despite my penchant for drunken late nights, I had always been one to wake with the sun. It had been my undoing in university; never able to sleep past 6am in the summer despite all the money I’d poured into heavy-duty blackout curtains. Countless days spent nursing coffee after coffee just to clear the thick fog of exhaustion in my brain, but sleep still never coming despite hours spent curled up trying to nap in the afternoon.

So it was foreign, the sensation of utter comfort this morning, my muscles so relaxed as I curled up under the duvet and into the chest of this man. He was just barely stirring too, gaze softened without the burden of cognisance hitting him yet.

I offered him a small smile, nudging my cheek against his shoulder. It was returned, and a slow, lingering kiss pressed to my forehead through the fabric of his mask. It wasn’t until Simon pulled back that he let out a soft chuckle, my smile falling as a frown pulled at my brows.

“What?”

He dragged the pad of his thumb over the corner of my lips, and I could see the skin stained with a faded red.

“Your makeup, sweet thing. Didn’t take it off last night.”

I groaned, rolling onto my back to grab blindly at the pack of cheap makeup wipes on the bedside table. I dragged one across my cheek, stubborn particles of glitter scraping at my skin.

“Here, let me.” He murmured, taking the wipe and swiping at across my lips far more gently than I had. His expression turned serious with concentration, and I really couldn’t help but smile at his dedication to the mundane task. There was something domestic about it, something so bizarrely intimate yet it didn’t make me want to bolt out of the room away from it quite yet.

Seemingly satisfied, he let the wipe drop onto the sheets, but kept his hand brushing against my skin. His hand drifted lower, thumb dipping beneath the neckline of the soft cotton tee. His other arm shifted from underneath the pillow, squeezing lightly at my waist.

I inhaled, gaze dropping to his lips, the mask still tucked up over the bridge of his nose. He smirked, almost imperceptibly, as his hands curled tighter around my middle, pulling me in against his body.

“Now, pet…I do remember you being fucking difficult last night.” His voice was gentle, almost eerily so. “I’m almost in two minds about making you feel good right now.”

I bit the inside of my lip, my willingness to sass back at him almost zero right now.

“I was…drunk. And pissed off about being left high and dry. I’m sorry.”

That seemed to do the trick, because almost immediately he was tugging me into the centre of the mattress underneath him, knocking my legs apart with his knees.

“At least you’ve some humility.” He chuckled, leaning down to nip at the exposed skin of my stomach where the shirt had ridden up. “…God, ‘s not like I could turn you down right now anyway. Look too fucking tempting.”

I gasped, back arching up off of the mattress as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin once more.

“Mmph, don’t tease, I- I can’t-“

My weak attempt at pleading was swiftly cut off by another low chuckle.

“It’s okay, princess. Not gonna make you wait, not this time.” He murmured as his lips dipped lower, fingers abandoning my waist in favour of crushing the flesh of my thighs in his grip. He took in a long, greedy exhale of my bare core, lips slick with saliva as he pressed them against the tender skin.

“God, can’t wait to taste you again…you smell fucking divine.”

He wasted no time in diving in, lapping at the slick of my pussy like he’d gone without water for days. A strangled moan was torn from my throat, my fingers clutching tightly at the short curls on his scalp. I felt him twitch a little as my nails bit into his skin, but it seemed to only spur him on further as he pushed his tongue inside of me.

“Fuck, Simon, don’t stop, that feels good-“ I gasped, my breath starting to visibly pick up. I pressed my hips further down towards him, legs twitching and begging to clamp down over his ears. He kept me still, though, those strong hands rubbing small circles into the space behind my knees as he pushed them down into the mattress.

The vibration of his moan against my clit had me almost folding over in half, a sharp breath filling my lungs with ice as my eyes flew open. I met his gaze- his dark, starving gaze- and wanted to cum on the spot. He never let up on his ministrations as he held eye contact with me, just slipping a hand under my ass to grope at it as his tongue worked me closer and closer to oblivion.

I tried to speak, but all that escaped my lips was a pitiful whine, the shocks from my pussy down my legs forcing me to curl up my toes and scrunch my eyes shut. I tried to beg him to keep going, to not break his rhythm, but I found myself utterly unable to speak. It didn’t seem to matter, though, because he didn’t falter, just licking and sucking and drooling over my pussy like he needed it to survive.

I felt my arms moving up of their own accord, tweaking and tugging at my nipples, and I could just barely feel his lips quirk up in an approving smile as the added stimulation drove me closer to the edge.

When I came, it wasn’t with a dignified muffled moan as it often was when I worked myself alone. It was with a breathless, almost pained cry, the sharp end of my nails pressing so hard into my tits I swore the skin almost broke. Simon didn’t pull away immediately; in fact, it felt like he pushed himself closer, lapping up the wetness from between my thighs like a sinner kneeling before the communion cup.

I collapsed back down against the mattress. I couldn’t do anything except stare at the ceiling, vision hazy as I listened to both of our laboured breaths in the quiet room.

It took a few moments for him to drag himself back up over me, into my field of view. His lips held a lazy smirk as he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, the flush just faintly visible over his jaw making my own cheeks warm even further.

“…Please fuck me.” I whispered.

Silence hung between us for a second, and I wondered what was going through his mind.

Hesitance? Guilt? Reluctance?

I got my answer when his smirk widened into a grin, and he crashed his lips against mine.

Ghost and I had kissed before. I’d tasted the faint residue of tobacco on his lips, the spearmint toothpaste he used, as his tongue pressed into mine with an urgency akin to an addict pushing down the first hit of their drug.

But not Simon. No, in this moment, I realised I’d never kissed Simon. His lips felt different, the way he cupped my jaw and pressed his weight into me. It felt new, and genuine, and vulnerable.

I realised at the same moment, that this was his first time kissing Lucy, too.

No more Violet. No more calculated persona, no rehearsed responses to his touch. Just a man and a woman indulging sinfully and religiously in each other.

I didn’t notice that he’d pulled his boxers off. I felt him press his cock against me, and moaned against his lips, brows creasing together in desperate anticipation.

He kissed me harder as he pushed himself into me, the sharp sting of the stretch mollified by his sweet tongue. He paused, drawing back to gaze down at me, eyes asking the silent question.

I nodded without a second of hesitation.

He groaned at his first rock into me, fisting the bedsheets beside my head.

“Shit, Luce, you feel better than fucking heroin.”

If I’d been anywhere other than my current state of bliss, I would’ve made a snarky remark about neither of us knowing what the hell heroin felt like. Hopefully.

“More.” I rasped, pulling him closer to me by the nape of his neck. “Please, Si, give me more.”

He growled in response, bullying his cock into me faster and harder. I cried out, nipples pressed into his chest and sending delicious little flutters through my core at the sensation. I pushed my hips up, trying to meet his thrusts, and his breath stuttered at the action.

“Fuck, god, need to have you on top of me. Need to see your face.”

I nodded, even though I was mostly incoherent. Not entirely aware of what I’d agreed to, I let him flip us over so that I was settled above him as he lay with his head sinking into the pillow. I steadied myself with a hand splayed on his chest, panting as I stared down at him.

I began to move with a tentative rock of my hips. The response was immediate, Simon biting his lip as his head pressed further back into the soft material behind him. I grew in confidence as I found my angle, bouncing up and down on him and letting my head loll back as the mind-numbing pleasure took over my senses once again.

He groaned, the sound deep and rough and intoxicating, his hands flying up to my hips to help support my weight as I rode him within an inch of my life.

“Yes, yes, that’s it, sweet girl. Make yourself cum. Make me cum. Ride that fucking dick.” He panted, his grip tightening as he started to manoeuvre me up and down himself, setting a pace I couldn’t quite keep up with.

I let my head fall forward, meeting his eyes with a wordless plea on my lips. He let out a moan at my expression, hips snapping upwards into mine at such a rate I could feel my diaphragm catching.

“Gonna fucking cum. Gonna fucking cum inside you, come on girl, cum around me. Need to see that face.”

I had no defences left. I broke like a dam around him, every muscle in my body contracting as I let myself climax around his cock. He groaned, the sound strained and utterly animal, and I swore my orgasm doubled the second I felt his cum spurt in fucking ropes against my insides.

Neither of us moved for a long moment, aside from his hand sliding up along my back to support me. I drew in deep, rapid breaths, just staring down at him as he lay underneath me.

He seemed to do the same. Neither of us spoke, just a silent understanding that that was different.

Not fucking. Not hooking up. Making love.

I jumped to my feet, knees buckling the second I put weight on them. His arms immediately shot out to steady me, but I brushed him away as I found balance with my hand against the wall.

“You, uh…you want some coffee?” I asked, cringing internally at how stupid it sounded.

He stared at me for a long moment.

“…You should probably shower. I can handle breakfast.”

Too cock-dumb to argue and too sleep-deprived to know better, I nodded, the thought of warm water over my already pliant muscles a prospect too tempting to resist.

I grabbed a towel and a fresh pair of pyjamas without another word, waiting until I heard the click of the bathroom door to let out a breath.

I stared at one crack in the porcelain tiles as I showered.

Don’t do this, Lucy. You’ve been here before.

…But Simon wasn’t him. Simon wasn’t basking me in adoration and gifts and dates. He was accepting of the fuck-buddy relationship, maybe pushing the boundary a smidge with the morning-after sex, but this wasn’t commitment. This was pure, primal sexual attraction, and it’s not as if he would even want a relationship given the nature of his job.

Oh, dear god, his job.

There was no way he didn’t see my reaction to the reveal last night. The thought, the thought of him absolutely decimating some band of criminals without so much as a crack in his demeanour had set every nerve inside of me ablaze.

Would he be soaked in blood? I thought. Would he come home to me, still in his dirty uniform, and take out all of that pent-up aggression on my pussy?

…Jesus, I needed to go back to therapy.

I shut off the water, towel drying my hair and tugging on a random top and pair of joggers. I padded through towards the kitchen, pausing only when I heard that familiar baritone echo through the hallway.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m aware, MacTavish. No, she’s not interfering. She’s a fucking stripper, it’s not as if I’m ring shopping.”

I would’ve been lying if I’d said I hated to eavesdrop.

“…Yeah, she’s hot. She’s also not a serious thing, so back off.”

I chose that moment to step into the kitchen, tugging at the knots in my wet hair as he stood in the corner on his phone. I smirked.

“You gonna let me say hi to your friend?”

Simon’s expression dropped. I could vaguely hear a voice shouting down the other end of the phone, but he hung up the call almost immediately after seeing me appear.

“…Stupid friend. Ignore him.”

I chuckled, brushing past him to pop a pod into the coffee maker.

“Seems like he was pretty clued in about me. Feels a little unfair that I don’t get to know about him.”

Simon bristled.

“Don’t wanna share you.”

Ah. Now that piqued my interest.

“Jealous boy, hmm? Don’t want MacTavish touching what’s yours?”

In an instant, his hands were on me, caging me against the countertop.

He breathed, his tone dangerous. “I can’t stop you from sleeping with every sleaze that ticks your boxes at the club. But you will not sleep with my teammates.”

I tipped my chin up, meeting his gaze defiantly. “You are so rude to me.”

He smirked, fingers trailing along my jaw. “Didn’t seem to mind it when I was making you cum.”

I held eye contact for a long moment, a mixture of amusement and annoyance swimming in my expression. “I like your cheek a whole lot less when I’m level-headed.”

He chuckles, dipping down to press a kiss to my lips. “And I like you a lot more when you’re sober.”

tag list! <3 @simpxinnie

[sky-is-the-limit]

𝙽𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗? 𝙸 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝:

𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝙶𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝙼𝚊𝚌𝚃𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞: 𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝟷 (𝚂𝙵𝚆)

Summary: 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 who is part of TF141 and has a professional/friendly relationship with both. Part 2 will be explicit.

➳𝙺𝚢𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜. 𝙰𝚗𝚢 𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚝. 𝙾𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚞𝚗𝚜, 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚕, 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜, 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚛, 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐.

➳𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗𝚗𝚢, 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍, 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝. 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚞𝚢. 𝙷𝚎'𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎, 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚘'𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚍, 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙺𝚢𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎.

➳𝙺𝚢𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍. 𝚁𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚘𝚊𝚙 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚜, "𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛, 𝙼𝚊𝚌𝚃𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚑?"

➳𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗𝚗𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎. 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝. 𝙷𝚎'𝚍 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢 𝙶𝚊𝚣 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎. "𝙰𝚑, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝙶𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔. 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚎, 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎?" 𝙲𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝙺𝚢𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝟿𝟿 𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚘 '𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢' 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕.

➳𝙺𝚢𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜, 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎. 𝚆𝚑𝚢? 𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚑𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚊 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚝.

𝙷𝚎'𝚍 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜 "𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎?" 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚢.

➳𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗𝚗𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚋𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 ��𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝, 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜.

𝙾𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎, 𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚏 '𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚎' 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎. 𝙰 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚝, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚡𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚕𝚋𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜. "𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝, 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎." 𝙷𝚎'𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎, 𝚖𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜.

➳𝙺𝚢𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝙷𝚎'𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚖 𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚛. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖.

𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚢𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚊𝚣𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 "𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎, 𝚈/𝙻/𝙽?" 𝙾𝚛 "𝙰𝚖 𝙸 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚛?" 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 "𝚈𝚎𝚜, 𝚂𝚒𝚛." 𝚃𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏.

➳𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗𝚗𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍. 𝙵𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚔, 𝚑𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕. 𝙷𝚎'𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝, 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚢𝚊𝚕 𝚍𝚘𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎, 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜.

"𝙰𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎." 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚢𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝. 𝙷𝚎'𝚍 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍.

➳𝙺𝚢𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢, 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚝𝚕𝚢, 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍, 𝚒𝚝'𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚞𝚎𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜. "𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚗, 𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞." 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚞𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠.

➳𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗𝚗𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 (𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝙶𝚊𝚣) 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚝. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍? 𝙶𝚒𝚏𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚢𝚕𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑? 𝙸𝚝'𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚐 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚘𝚋𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚝𝚕𝚎.

➳𝙺𝚢𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

➳𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗𝚗𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙻𝚒𝚎𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚓𝚘𝚋 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑.

➳𝙺𝚢𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗. 𝙷𝚎'𝚍 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜. 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝, 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚞𝚜. 𝙰𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎, 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚠𝚎.

➳𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗𝚗𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙷𝚎'𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍, 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙, 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚑𝚎 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚢, 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝. 𝙷𝚎'𝚍 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜, 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢.

[thebutterflyofthemojave]

Diana and her Big Dada HC

(moodboard made by me)

Ghost in the Fallout AU with baby Diana. The stress about to stay away for weeks, the return at home where Laswell and her wife takes care of her after the death of his wife after the birth(its the wasteland unfortunately).

She is the only thing good in that world of death and pain, I imagine her first word “Dada”. Because she loves her big Dada so much.

When she says the first word he was returned after a request to assassinate some Gunners in a nearby factory, all covered in blood and sand, him tired, and sees his daughter of one year who tries to walk helped by Kate's wife and who keeps saying "Dada”

His eyes full of tears, the constant feeling of guilt in having to raise his little tangerine in such a world that are dissipated in that sweet "Dada" while he promised himself "to protect you little tangerine from this disgusting world”