#it's been sitting in my file for over a year and it's been this blog's header for that long so why not?

[volgrawr]

Old short comic I did last year while I was trying to get used to drawing these characters.

Man really screams rawr XD at his enemies.

[wherestoriescomefrom]

every single time this happens people drag out the same trite talking points, out in a single file and like clockwork - but for what it's worth, no you didn't have a mystical sixth sense that neil gaiman was out doing terrible things to people who were his fans. no, there is nothing in him that is fundamentally wrong and evil about him (much as i would like that to be the case), no, you actually cannot separate the art from the artist as anyone would like to do in these situations, and no, making authors and celebrities out to be bigger or better than they are is also perhaps not at fault (and talking points like this always veer dangerously close to blaming victims).

gaiman was an author. an author of considerable power and clout, and his behaviour was perfectly in line with those who are powerful and have a lot of clout. the way in which structures of knowledge recreate situations like this is not new - it happens every few years in universities, when professors take advantage of their students sexually or otherwise. an author like neil gaiman was just another powerful node of the system that produces knowledge, and we have been trained to respect that (for some reason. well for many reasons, but we don't have time to get into that). as long as their is currency attached to producing knowledge - ie, the currency of being a well respected author - there is going to be adverse advantage for those who have that currency.

gaiman abused and assaulted women who were financially dependent on him - he could only do this because he was rich and powerful. and every single author who has that currency has the same advantages, can wield similar control over their victims, and this is not something we can do anything about. we can talk about pushing people off their pedestals (as if that is going to do something), but until the system keeps rewarding you for being on a pedestal, you are going to have the higher ground that allows you to crush whoever sits beneath you. and i know, this is less than a solution than those people who are willing to engage with everyone's hurt feelings about how another author turned out bad - and what if we could stop putting people on a pedestal? but that's the truth.

i'm so tired man. i'm so tired of seeing the same, tired takes. i know it sucks that the answer is to not keep recreating systems of knowledge that make single people out into the holders of great truth - and capitalism sucks, and all these adverse incentives exist for someone to be a rich and famous author - but someone is going to have to acknowledge that this happening every few years with our favourite authors, artists, actors not because we're putting them on pedestals and won't someone please separate the art and the artist and couldn't you tell that his art was evil all along??? it's happening because - IP laws exist, because authors make money off of their intellectual property, and if they make enough money and garner enough respect for the knowledge production they do (no matter how that respect is garnered), there is going to be a class artsy people who have more power, and that means they can exploit it if needed. i know they feel like our friends - because they make art we like, but they are part of the intellectual elite, and just like billionaires, that is a class of society with power and the means to exploit it.

i know that feels like a leap when you're more concerned about good omens being renewed, but i need everyone to just. just have some perspective. there was this quote on my blog which gaiman had written, about love - for two of his friends getting married. and because he clearly respected those people, it was a beautiful quote, completely in disharmony with how he treated those women, the ones he did not respect. the ones he financially abused with his wife and sexually abused by himself. and i want you to know, that no matter how beautiful the quote was, i deleted it from my blog because he was raping that woman while he wrote it.

[yammpi3]

𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙀 𝙉𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏 𝙀𝙉𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙆𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙤 𝙏𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙢𝙞 [𝙃𝙖𝙬𝙠𝙨]

synopsis. You were a former hero commission hero but when you made a simple mistake in a mission the commission sent you on they deemed you unfit and fired you, hence made you out to be a villain to the public. A few years later you meet your old partner Hawks out on his nightly patrol then you guys make up….made out .. :3

— content warnings. sorta plot with smut, eating out, p to v, kissing, sex sex sex, not really coordinated well? i think? dom/sub hawks

— W.C 2.3k

— authors note. This has been rotting in my drafts for like a year now but i thought i should post something…so..heres this!! Im rlly sorry if it’s formatted kinda weirdly, imo the smut is also written sorta weird but i think thats just me..overthinking it ANYWAYS enjoy reading <33 also Thank you FOR 100 FOLLOWERS?? i didn’t expect my blog would reach that much so TYTY.

Hawks sighed heavily, leaning back in his office desk chair, elbows propping on the armrests. He rubbed his tired eyes, tilting his head back, attempting to avoid eye contact with the stack of paperwork that lay out before him.

Every muscle in his body ached with exhaustion. It felt like he had been sitting in this same spot for days, poring over reports and documents in an endless cycle of busy work. As the number-two hero, the public demanded nothing but his very best. They expected him to always be alert and swift in responding to any crisis, dealing with volatile situations and dangerous villains with calm precision. 

But they didn't see this part. They didn't witness the countless late nights spent filling out forms, compiling statistics, and attending meetings after meetings. No cameras captured the headaches induced by mind-numbing bureaucracy or the frustration of dealing with petty politics. This was the hidden cost of his elevated rank—an incessant paper-pushing grindstone that wore him down more than any actual fight ever could. 

 

Slowly dragging his hands down his face, Hawks sighed again as the aches and knots of tension complained loudly in his neck and shoulders. For a brief moment, he considered using his feathers to shred just a few stray documents, to do less work. 

He stretched his arms over his head and rolled his tense muscles, his wings fluttering restlessly behind him. All he wanted at that moment was to forget. To spread his wings and fly through open skies, feeling the wind ruffle through his feathers as he left his troubles far below.

 

Tilting his chair back as far as it would go, he gave a long-suffering look at the piles of work that towered precariously around him, silently pleading with it all to spontaneously catch fire or simply vanish into thin air. With a resigned sigh, Hawks dropped all four chair legs back to the floor and reluctantly pulled the topmost file towards him once more, bracing himself for another grind of the ever-turning wheel.

Hawks rubbed his tired eyes once more, feeling his motivation drain away with each mundane paragraph he read. At this rate, he'd be here all night and well into the morning. With a groan, he tossed the file back onto the pile, temporarily defeated. Maybe a quick break was what he needed to recharge his focus. 

 

Pushing away from his desk, Hawks stood and stretched out his cramped body to its full height, his wings unfolding to their full span. A midnight flight around the city was just what he needed. The cool night air and darkened streets would do wonders for clearing his cluttered mind. 

Stepping out onto his office balcony, Hawks took a few steps back, then launched himself into the sky with his wings. He flew high, circling up towards the crowning heights of the skyscrapers that shone below. Closing his eyes briefly, he took a deep breath of the fresher air, feeling tensions beginning to melt away already. 

 

As he glided back down towards street level, Hawks scanned the sidewalks lazily while lost in thought. He was mulling over the options when movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. 

Your shadow slipped between alleyways, scanning for any civilians in the area. Suddenly flashes of red nearing a rooftop drew your eye—a familiar winged silhouette.

Going on a nearby rooftop, you spotted Hawks looking down, trying to find who or what he saw. 

You and Hawks used to know each other pretty well in your teen years when you dreamed of being a great hero. So when you were selected by  the Commission to become one, you were ecstatic. But from day one, Keigo Takami made things... complicated.

You two went way back to your training days, though you mostly kept your head down back then. Once in the pro scene though, Takami always found ways to rile you up during sessions, whether with sly taunts or risky stunts that pushed protocol to the limit. 

Part of you wanted to throttle that arrogant asshole, but another part couldn't deny the thrill he made you feel. 

Late nights spent training turned into more..private scenarios. For a time, it was nice to find solace in each other. But then came the ruling—you'd been deemed "not hero material" after one mistake, ruining your future. That's when Takami tried to connect with you again, but the hero commission wouldn't even allow him to be close to you to not damage the reputation he already made with the public. 

"You're up rather late for a hero," you whispered directly into his ear, barely suppressing a chuckle at his startled flinch. Golden eyes met yours warily, yet he made no move to escape our intimate embrace. 

"I'm off duty," was his measured reply. "And you?" Smoke clung thick to the memories in his eyes. 

Your fingers, carefully gloved, traced the proud arch of his wings, feeling tension bleed away slowly. "Care for some company, Keigo?"

He held your gaze steadily, considering. At last he nodded, extending a hand. “Not that I can shake you off anyway,” he replied, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

You sat together on the secluded rooftop, settling close against one another. As you caught up, you both couldn't help but feel deprived of each other's touch; it had been far too long since you'd seen one another face to face. Sure, he'd heard about you through others in the commission, but being here together was different somehow. 

When your voices at last fell silent, a gentle touch turned your chin to meet Hawks' searching eyes. "Y/N…" he murmured, leaning in so your faces were mere inches apart. One of his wings stretched out to block any view from the street below, enveloping you both in its feathery embrace. 

Hawks closed the remaining distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a soft yet insistent kiss.

One hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, as the other wrapped around your waist to draw you flush against his body. You felt even better than he remembered. 

 

When your lips parted under him, Hawks held back a groan as he rested his forehead against yours as you both panted for air. Wisps of steam rose between the two of you in the chill night. 

If he tasted you fully, it would undo his last shred of willpower.

“You're going to be the end of me.." Hawks murmured thickly. Already, he ached to have more, but taking you here against the railing would be too brazen, even for his recklessness. 

"Then take me somewhere more...private then," you shot back in a sinful whisper. 

With a sly smile, Hawks swept you into his arms in a bridal carry, wings already prepared for launch. "Hold on tight.”

 

Hawks kicked off from the roof of the building and took flight, relishing your tight grip around his shoulders. The thrill of having you in his arms sent adrenaline surging through his veins. 

He landed lightly on the balcony of his high-rise apartment, still holding you securely against his chest. Your masked face was turned up to meet his gaze.

"I.. I really missed you," Hawks murmured, pressing you back against the wall with his body. He caged you in with outspread wings, feathers gently ghosting your skin. 

 

"Me too.." you replied. Your hands came up to roam his body just as eagerly.

Hawks captured your lips in a searing kiss, conveying all his pent-up needs and desires without restraint. This was wrong on so many levels, and yet he'd never felt more alive. 

 

Kicking open the balcony doors, he swept you inside and laid you down on his plush sofa. His hands worked busily to remove your mask, wanting nothing between you and him; clothing fell piece by piece until nothing was left. 

 

"Say you want this," Hawks pleaded roughly, desperate for your answer. 

Your intoxicating laughter rang out as you pulled him against your body. "I want all of you, Keigo." 

Hawks' hands roamed your body eagerly, relearning every curve as his lips traveled along your jawline. You sighed contentedly, arching into his touch while undoing the fastenings of his hero costume with practiced expertise. 

 

Slowly, methodically, he kissed his way down the delicate column of your throat. Hawks lingered there to suckle your rapid pulse, eliciting breathy moans. His name falling from your lips in such a manner sent fresh spikes of arousal through him.

 

As you lay bare under him, Hawks paused to simply take in the sublime vision of your naked form, illuminated by the moonlight. "You're so..beautiful," he whispered in awe, tracing idle patterns upon your sensitized flesh.

 

Your hands delved into the downy feathers at his wings' bases, eliciting a guttural groan. The way you caressed his most sensitive areas, teasing but not quite enough, tested Hawks' faltering control. He nipped lightly at the swell of your breast in retaliation.

Tracing a tortuous path down your torso with wet kisses and love bites, Hawks' fingers dipped between your thighs. He chuckled at discovering your slick arousal, already swollen and desperate for friction. Slowly, he circled your clit, gathering your arousal onto his fingers.

 

"Please..." you begged wantonly, bucking your hips to chase more contact. But Hawks would loathe to grant your unspoken request so easily. He continued his maddening ministrations, coaxing you higher and higher with expert precision. Only when your keening cries bordered on anguish did he finally decide to sink two fingers deep inside.

 

The powerful rhythm he set drove you swiftly towards the peak. Hawks swallowed your hoarse screams of completion, savoring your intimate essence on his tongue.

"I've missed this..," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

 

Then his tongue delved into your slick arousal with deft, practiced strokes. Your responsive sighs and the way you grabbed Takami's hair only spurred him onward in his devotions. 

 

He alternated between broad, flat licks and focused flicks directly over your clit. When Keigo very lightly grazed his teeth along your folds, you keened and bucked again into his ministrations wildly. He hummed his approval, sending vibrations through your core.

 

It did not take long for you to climb once more towards the precipice, unraveling beautifully beneath his skilled mouth. Hawks drank deeply from your release, prolonging each aftershock with slow caresses of his tongue. Only when your quivering stopped did he withdraw, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he cleaned his glistening chin. 

 

As he swirled his tongue around his lips, savoring the last hints of you, you gazed up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Your chest still heaved in languid aftershocks of pleasure, your limbs boneless and slack upon the plush cushions.

"Come here," you beckoned hoarsely, crooking a finger. Your body cried out to be filled after such thorough worship, muscles reflexively clenching around nothing inside. 

 

Hawks obeyed without hesitation, crawling up to drape himself over your welcoming form once more. You gripped his shoulders firmly, flipping your positions with a playful show of wiry strength, and smiled down at him wickedly. 

 

Grasping his aching length and rubbing the tip of his cock had him seeing stars. Hawks groaned unabashedly.

Slowly, you let him inside, savoring each velvet glide. Hawks bucked helplessly, claws scrabbling for purchase against the cushions as your sensual walls milked his length.

 

The pleasure you drew from Hawks was exquisite torture. Each roll of your hips sent fresh shockwaves through his twitching member, shattering his composure. He was reduced to begging, his nails scratched weakly at your thighs as you rode him to the brink. 

 

"Please...I need to come," Hawks gasped, moving his hips upward in frantic little thrusts. His cock throbbed painfully with the desperate need for release. 

You smiled down at him cruelly. "Beg for it." Your lips formed the words deliciously slowly, knowing their effect.

Hawks keened, wings fluttering uselessly. "Please let me cum p-please I wanna cum, I need..to please..” 

 

Suddenly, you bore down on him, grinding your pelvis against his in brutal circles. The new angle sent Hawks reaching his high with a raw cry. 

 

You quickly let him pull out as his cock pulsed and thick ropes of seed spilled forth, splattering his taut stomach in pearly ribbons. Hawks shuddered through wave after wave; your continued help milking every last drop from him. 

Breathless and spent, he could only lay pliantly as you leaned down to collect his essence on your fingers. Your wicked tongue flicked out to taste, making Hawks twitch anew in oversensitivity.

 

You smiled softly, your expression gentling as you gazed upon Hawks' flushed, panting form. His chest still heaved mightily in the aftermath of his climax.

 

Reverently, you traced light patterns on his ribs and pecs with delicate fingers, soothing away any last tremors. Hawks hummed appreciatively at your tender touch, grasping one of your hands to press a lingering kiss to the palm. 

 

"Come here, Birdie," you murmured, beckoning him into your open embrace. Hawks complied readily, nuzzling into the crook of your neck with a contented sigh. Your legs tangled together comfortably as his wings folded around you both like a feathery blanket.

No threats of capture or duty rules could penetrate the sanctity of that moment. There, held securely within your arms, Hawks felt at once protected yet free—freed from the shackles of self-doubt and expectation. He belonged, body and soul, to one who accepted him fully without judgment or demand.

 

Drowsiness began to take hold as your rhythmic caresses through soft-down lulled Hawks towards slumber. "Stay?" he mumbled into your skin, his voice blurred by oncoming sleep yet filled with gentle hope. 

You kissed his forehead, followed by a whisper, "I’ll stay, promise." was the sweetest assurance Hawks could wish for.

© yammpi3 2024. All work belongs to @yammpi3. You can repost if you want to support my blog/writing! Please don't modify, translate, or plagiarize in any way on ANY platform.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Three Generations - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Fem!Reader (Wife!Reader)

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Rooster is a Dad; Female Reader with No Name or Physical Description, No Y/N, Third Person POV; OC Bradshaw Kid without Physical Description (minus a reference to his smile being similar to Rooster's)

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: Rooster is married. Maverick found out when the paperwork got filed with the Navy, but he doesn’t have a chance to ask Rooster about it until after the mission

Master List

Sequel: A Day with Duckie

Maverick remembered the text that he received from Ice about four years prior to the mission.

The kid’s married.

Three little words that felt like bullets straight to Maverick’s heart. Bradley was married. Married. Maverick shouldn’t have been surprised, really. Bradley was more than old enough for marriage. Especially for a naval officer. But it still hurt, it still stung that he wasn’t there to see it.

Ice gave him Rooster’s wife’s name but he couldn’t find many photos of the two of them together. Rooster’s wife’s profiles were all set to private, but Maverick did find some photos posted by one of the bridesmaids. He printed them out and hung them up in his hangar, next to his old photos of Rooster. Even if he cried like a baby while he did it.

It wasn’t until after the mission, when they were sitting alone in their hospital room together, that Maverick had a chance to ask Rooster about his wife.

“You got married?” Maverick asked Rooster quietly.

Maverick gestured to his own left ring finger, which made Rooster fiddle with his gold band. Staring down at his wedding ring for a moment, Rooster tried to figure out how to respond properly to Maverick’s question. Nodding slowly, Rooster turned back to Maverick.

“Yeah, I did,” Rooster answered quietly.

“Congratulations,” Maverick replied softly.

“Thank you,” Rooster returned, fiddling with his ring again.

“How did you meet?”

“She was in the Navy. She worked in intelligence, though. We met through mutual friends and I asked her out. We went on a date to a karaoke bar and never looked back,” Rooster explained, smiling at the memories. “I asked her to marry me about two years after that.”

“And you’re happy?”

“Extremely,” Rooster replied without missing a beat. “Her and Kai, they’re my whole life.”

“Kai?” Maverick asked curiously.

Rooster, seemingly realizing his slip, shrunk a bit into himself. He looked nervous. Incredibly nervous. Fiddling with his wedding band again, Rooster slowly turned back to Maverick.

“Kai is my son.”

“You’re a dad?” Maverick asked, unable to stop the emotion from dripping into his tone.

Not only had Maverick missed Rooster’s wedding, but he also missed the birth of Rooster’s child, and all of the little milestones along the way. And that ache in his chest quietly intensified, though Maverick tried to not let it show.

“Yeah, I am.”

Rooster reached for his phone, pulled up a photo, and passed his phone over to Maverick. He grabbed Rooster’s phone and stared down at the photo. And Maverick would have been lying if he said that he didn’t get a little choked up at the sight of it.

Rooster and a woman that Maverick knew was Rooster’s wife were standing together with a little baby boy sandwiched between them. A little boy that had his father’s smile—albeit one with a few missing teeth—and a matching Hawaiian shirt. Rooster’s wife smiled widely at the camera with her cheek smushed against the top of her son’s head.

And Rooster looked happier in that photo than Maverick had seen him since before Carole passed, even though Rooster wasn’t looking in the direction of the camera. No, Rooster was far too busy smiling at his little family.

“Are they coming to see you?” Maverick asked, handing the phone back to Rooster.

“Yeah, uh, their flight lands tomorrow morning. Phoenix said that she would pick them up from the airport and bring them here,” Rooster explained, placing his phone aside. Rooster paused before turning back to Maverick. “And . . . can you . . . can you not mention the part about me defying a direct order and everything that happened afterwards?”

“I won’t,” Maverick promised, earning a thankful nod from Rooster. “But, at some point, Brad, I think that you should be honest with her about it. As much as you can, given the sensitive information, anyways. Not that I’m in any position to give anyone marriage advice but . . . you should be honest with your wife.”

“I will,” Rooster returned quietly. “It’s just that she gets really stressed when I’m in the hospital. I don’t want to overwhelm her.”

“Are you scared about her reaction?”

“A little bit,” Rooster admitted honestly.

Maverick chuckled, reminiscing about how Goose always looked when he was worried about telling Carole about whatever shenanigans they got into back in the day.

“I’m sure that you’ll be fine.”

~~~~~

Maverick and Rooster were discharged from the hospital the next day.

Phoenix, along with Rooster’s wife and Kai, were supposed to pick them up. Rooster spotted Phoenix’s car and walked after it. The passenger door flew open and Rooster’s wife. She walked around the car to see that Phoenix was helping Kai out of the back seat.

Kai slid out of Phoenix’s car and immediately perked up when he spotted his dad quickly making his way over. But knowing her son, Rooster’s wife snatched him by the back of his shirt before he could run out into the parking lot.

“You have to hold Mommy’s hand when you’re in the parking lot,” she reminded her son.

She looked up and down the road before leading Kai across it. But once Kai safely stepped up onto the sidewalk, she released his hand and let Kai run to Rooster.

“Daddy!” Kai yelled happily, running into Rooster’s waiting arms.

Bradley bent down and scooped Kai up. Holding Kai to his chest, Rooster pressed a kiss to Kai’s hair as he rocked his son back and forth in his arms. Almost like Rooster was trying to soothe himself with his son’s presence.

“I missed you so much, Kai.”

Rooster pressed another kiss to Kai’s head before turning to his wife. She looked like she was trying to hold it together and just barely managing it. But when she caught Rooster’s gaze, she let some more emotion show. Wordlessly, Rooster held out an arm to her and she immediately ran into his embrace, officially reuniting the family of three.

“I’m alright,” Rooster assured her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m okay.”

As Rooster reassured his wife and son that he was fine, Maverick walked around them to stand beside Phoenix. After his wife and Kai were soothed, Rooster turned to introduce them to Maverick.

“Guys, this is Maverick. Mav, this is my wife,” Rooster stated, wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist.

“The man who pulled your papers?” Rooster’s wife asked sharply. Maverick winced at her tone.

“We got past that,” Rooster assured his wife, which caused her to immediately relax.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you then,” she replied with a much warmer tone. Rooster’s wife walked over to give Maverick a proper hug that Maverick was happy to return. “And to put a face to the name after all the stories.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” Maverick replied, releasing Rooster’s wife.

“And this is my son, Kai,” Rooster added, bouncing his son lightly on his arm. Smiling at his son with complete and utter adoration, Rooster nudged him in the side. “Kai, this is Maverick.”

“Hi,” Maverick greeted Kai softly.

“Hi,” Kai returned shyly, resting his head on Rooster’s shoulder.

“Mav’s a pilot like me,” Rooster explained to his son, causing Kai to pick his head up again. “And he used to fly around with your Grandpa Goose.”

“Really?” Kai asked his dad, earning a nod from Rooster.

Kai stared over at Maverick with newfound curiosity and Maverick tried to not choke up at the clear similarities between Kai and Rooster. Kai wasn’t so much his dad’s twin, but he had that same expression and look in his eye that Maverick saw all the time on a younger Bradley. Offering a small encouraging smile to Kai, Maverick decided to approach.

“Yeah, your Grandpa Goose used to sit in my back seat,” Maverick replied, nodding along. “And he was the best at what he did.” Trying to not burst out into tears at the fact that he was talking about Goose while Baby Goose was holding Grandbaby Goose, Maverick managed a small smile. “Your grandpa’s callsign was Goose. Your dad’s is Rooster. What bird do you want as your callsign, Kai?”

“Mommy calls me ‘Duckie’,” Kai informed Maverick, ending his sentence with a giggle.

“Yes, because he’s impossible to pull out of the water once he’s in,” Rooster explained, shaking his head playfully at his son. “And he pretends that he can’t hear us.”

“No,” Kai giggled, clearly lying.

“He’s also a great liar,” Rooster quipped, tickling Kai’s stomach.

Kai squealed and pushed his dad’s hand away, but he couldn’t stop giggling. And Maverick tried to not burst out into tears again. Baby Goose had a baby. The little baby that he used to babysit and take for extra ice cream had a little baby of his own now.

God, Maverick was getting old.

~~~~~

After spending the day with the rest of the Dagger Squad, Maverick and the Bradshaw family of three retired to Maverick’s quaint residence in town. Rooster grew up in the house after Carole’s death and his old bedroom was perfectly preserved from that time.

It was only about a half an hour before Kai’s bedtime when Rooster approached Maverick in the kitchen.

“Can you watch Kai for a second?”

“Yeah, of course,” Maverick agreed, nodding along immediately. “But why? Where are you going?”

“I just thought that I should tell her,” Rooster explained, keeping his voice low. “There were too many close calls as it was with the rest of the Dagger Squad, so I need to tell her. About the mission and . . . my little stunt.”

“The couch is very comfortable,” Maverick joked, earning a tired sigh from Rooster. “You’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Rooster replied, straightening up.

Rooster thanked Maverick before the two rejoined Kai and Rooster’s wife out in the living room. Rooster managed to find an old Connect 4 game in the cabinet and his wife tried to teach Kai how to play. They were sitting around the coffee table with Kai studying the layout closely.

“Can I play with you, Kai?” Maverick asked, moving to sit down beside Kai.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, not taking his eye off of the board.

Maverick saw Rooster lean down to whisper something in his wife’s ear before she nodded. Turning to Kai, Rooster’s wife leaned over and tapped him on the shoulder, causing Kai to look up.

“Behave for Maverick, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy.”

Rooster and his wife got up and headed out of the room to talk. Kai turned to Maverick once his parents were out of sight.

“Why did they leave?”

“They just needed to talk about some things. Adult things. Nothing fun,” Maverick stated, causing Kai to nod with a slight pout. Maverick moved to take the seat that Rooster’s wife was sitting in and picked up a yellow piece. “Did you take a plane to get over here, Kai?”

“Yeah,” Kai stated, smiling up at Maverick.

“Do you like flying?”

“Yeah.”

“Has your dad ever taken you flying before?” Kai shook his head dramatically, causing Maverick to nod along. “You just fly with your mom then?”

“Yeah. Daddy gets scared,” Kai informed Maverick, leaning on the coffee table.

“Well, it’s a little scary when you’re a pilot and someone else is flying the plane,” Maverick replied, very well acquainted with the control freak tendencies that popped up when a naval aviator flew commercial. “And your daddy just wants to make sure that you and everyone else is safe.”

“Mommy tells him to relax,” Kai replied, emphasizing the word with a wave of his hand.

Kai must have seen his mom do that exact routine at least a thousand times because he seemed to know the part by heart. He had the expression, the wave of his hand, and the tone down perfectly. Maverick couldn’t help but laugh.

“Does he listen to her?” Maverick quipped, failing at hiding his amusement.

“Sometimes,” Kai answered with a giggle.

“Like you?”

“Yeah.”

Maverick was about to ask Kai another question when Rooster’s wife’s voice echoed around the house. The door to Rooster’s old bedroom did little to muffle the shock and sheer incredulousness of Rooster’s wife’s question.

“You did what!?”

“Have you ever seen the moon, Kai?” Maverick asked the toddler, quickly getting up to his feet.

“Yeah,” Kai replied as Maverick scooped him up into his arms.

“Well, looking again wouldn’t hurt,” Maverick reasoned, setting Kai on his hip. “And maybe we’ll even see a few stars too.”

“Oh-kay,” Kai agreed with a sigh, laying his head on Maverick’s shoulder.

“And where was your brain during all of this!?” Rooster’s wife snapped loudly.

“Yeah, let’s go look at the stars, Kai,” Maverick stated quickly, hurrying out the back door.

“Was that Mommy?” Kai asked, staring back at the house.

“No, I don’t think it was her.”

Sequel: A Day with Duckie

[cowboydisaster]

Dark Red

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader word count: 5.6k summary: The Task Force 141 goes out drinking, and you wind up on your stomach in Ghost's bed. If you knew it would only take a few rounds of drinks, you would have gotten drunk with him earlier. (eventual smut, lots of family 141 interactions beforehand) a/n: This is my first COD fic and also the first thing I've written since May, so go easy on me if it's ooc pls xx. If you like this fic please give a follow or a reblog, I'm fixing up my blog and I'll be writing a lot more Simon. beta read by @margowritesthings warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni (smut, fingering, size difference, doggy)

masterlist

Your dress is wrapped tightly around your frame, held up by tiny golden chains that drape over your shoulders. It's dark green, and just barely covers your ass. It's definitely not the tactical gear that you’re used to wearing. You swallow thickly, pulling it down over your thighs as much as possible as you glance over yourself in the mirror. You barely recognize the reflection in front of you. No eye black, no tac-vest or combat boots. Tonight you’re not a soldier, you’re a civilian.

Price had arranged a night out to celebrate the 141’s latest win. He invited the Task Force alongside some allies for drinks at a club of all places, figuring everyone deserved to unwind. You were hesitant at first, but the boys all reassured you it would be just a few drinks. 

Once all the little details of your outfit are in place, you give yourself a onceover before pushing open Price’s bathroom door. Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Price are all leaning over the kitchen counter, speaking quietly about the mission. They smile, oblivious to you as you exit the bathroom, feeling a bit self conscious about the dress Kate insisted you wear. That is until Ghost catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye and quietens. He turns, and you watch his back straighten, hands in the pockets of his jeans as his eyes slowly run up and down your body. Something about that stare… you wonder if Ghost would ever see you the way you see him. It's been years now of you pining after him. You could never tell him. He’s your lieutenant, and besides, you’ve heard what happens to the recruits who make a move on Ghost. Every single one of them was harshly rejected and dropped from the program. You can't compromise your job, especially not for someone who doesn’t want you back. 

 Ghost stares, and the other three men turn to you in sync. A fierce blush blooms across your face as four pairs of eyes land on you. Ghost is wearing that familiar balaclava, the one he wears out in public or around the base. It hides everything but his eyes, and you stare into their swirling depths for a moment before the eye contact becomes too much. You clear your throat, glancing down over your dress. 

“Too much…?” You whisper, questioning your choice of fashion and makeup. 

“No…Not too mu–” Ghost is cut off as Soap lunges forward with a smile bigger than Texas and slaps you on the arm.

“Lookin’ good, bonnie lass!” Soap laughs. He looks nice himself. You’ve only seen him in sweats around the base, but tonight all four of your teammates are dressed to the nines. 

“Not so bad yourself, Johnny.” You smile, clutching a small purse to your hip. 

“We ready then, Cap?” Gaz asks, glancing up from his phone for a moment, “Laswell just got there, said she brought König.” 

“Yes.” Price smiles at you, checking his watch, “I've ordered two Ubers. Should both be here.” 

You follow them outside, smiling and nodding to Ghost as he holds the door open for you. The Captain and Gaz take the first car while you file into the second with Ghost and Soap. Soap sits in the front, leaving you in the back with Ghost. Your lieutenant is quiet most of the ride over, letting Johnny fill the silence, which he does. But it's hard to focus on Soap talking. You’re hyper aware of the eyes on you and how exposed you are. Your breasts are practically pushed up into your face, and the dress suddenly feels all too tight. You’re used to fighting, not celebrating, not partying. You take a few deep breaths, knowing that once you get a few drinks in your system you’ll feel better. 

“You alright?” 

Your eyes flick up. It’s Ghost, just barely over a whisper. His eyes are fixated on something out of the window, but he still must have noticed your anxiety. You nod.

“Just nervous.” You admit, “I’m not used to all this.” You whisper, gesturing down to your dress and matching strappy heels, then to the car that is driving you through the nightlife. Ghost smirks under his mask. 

“Me neither. Bourbon helps.” He says. 

“You drink bourbon?” You ask, glancing over. Soap hasn’t noticed your little conversation and continues to chat up the driver. You hadn’t taken Ghost as a bourbon man, he’s piqued your curiosity. 

“I fancy Kentucky.” He remarks. You chuckle. 

“Don’t let him know that.” You nod your head in Soap’s direction. 

“Never.” Ghost smirks, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. Your eyes fixate on the tattoos lining his left arm, just briefly exposed. You force your eyes away, knowing if you stare too long you’ll get caught up in the intricate pattern. The thought of running your fingers over those tattoos lingers in your head, soothing you enough to make the ride. 

—

The club is nice. Colored lights stream from the ceiling, a steady thrum of music vibrates lowly through the walls. You take in your surroundings, watching people drink, and dance with one another. It's a bit dark, hard to make out faces. You take note of all the exits while following behind Gaz and Price, both leading you all towards a closed off section of the club. Laswell is already there waiting along with her wife and König. The man must have already had a few drinks because he’s more relaxed than you've ever seen him. König’s eyes immediately land on you, and flutter down to the short cut off of your dress. You gasp as a burly figure pushes past you, separating you from König’s eyes. Ghost. He stands between the two of you and starts unclipping the velvet rope that separates you from the VIP section, much to the bouncer’s frustration. You blush, looking back to König whose eyes are sheepishly staring at the floor. Ghost must have pulled out his famous deadly glare. Your cheeks burn red. 

“There you are!” Laswell exclaims, motioning for the bouncer to lift the velvet rope that secures her area. No one seems to have noticed the little interaction between Ghost and König, thankfully. 

“VIP?” You chuckle. “Was that some CIA shit?” You ask, passing into the nicer, more secluded area of the club. A couch wraps around the corner wall, a table sitting in front of it. 

“Afraid not.” She smiles, wrapping an arm around her wife’s shoulders. You take a seat on the couch, watching as Ghost motions for Price to follow him towards the bar.

“We’ll be back.” He mumbles. Price pats Ghost on the shoulder as you watch them leave. 

“So, König?” Soap asks as he sits down, nodding towards the masked man. You take note that a beanie rests atop his head in place of his usual tac helmet. 

“Hmm?” König asks, suddenly alert. His eyes dart until they land on Soap. 

“How many drinks is it gonna take for you to shed the mask?” The scot asks. König grows quiet, tightly gripping his beer bottle by the neck. 

“Nein, I do not–” König begins before Soap jumps up, fist down on the table. 

“Nine?!” Soap laughs, “Keep em comin’, Ghost!” Soap hollers towards the bar. König shakes his head profusely.  

“No, that is not what I meant.” König tries to clear the situation up, but is drowned out by noise as Gaz and Soap laugh together. Laswell shoots you a knowing glance. You feel for her, being the only woman to watch these children.  

“You went with the dress I suggested.” Laswell notes, a proud smile gracing her lips. 

“I did.” You remark, blushing, “It's a bit tighter than what I’m used to.” You admit, sitting up straighter as a few from the table look back to you. 

“That's the point.” Laswell laughs, shooting you a quick wink. 

Before you can ask what she means by that, Ghost and Price return with two trays of shots. Half the shots are a golden, bronze color and the others are crystal clear. You raise an eyebrow as Ghost sits down beside you. 

“Get your bourbon?” You ask. 

“Had three down at the bar. You’ve got some catching up to do, yeah?” 

As everyone plucks shots from the trays, Ghost slides three in front of you with his knuckles. Two bourbons and one of the clear liquor. 

“What's this?” You ask, picking up the shot and holding it under your nose. It burns your nostrils, stealing the air from your lungs and replacing it with a sharp sting. 

“Patrón.” Ghost replies with a smirk. Your eyes follow as he grabs a clear shot from the tray with one hand, and pulls his mask up over his lips with the other. You’ve never seen his lips before. He brings the small glass to his lips, and you try to memorize the shape of his them, the jut of his jaw. It's gone in a flash as he downs the shot like it’s water before pulling his balaclava down over his chin. 

“Your turn.” He smirks, giant hand pushing the shot glass towards you. 

You follow suit, throwing your head back and letting the alcohol slide down your throat. You grimace at its strength, making a sour face. 

“Fuckin hell.” You cough. 

“You’ve got a bit of catching up to do.” Laswell points out, nodding down the table. You notice as Gaz takes the last shot from the first tray and your eyes boggle. 

— 

An hour later

Steady music thumps through the building. It feels slow, sensual. Maybe it’s because you’re wasted, but your confidence is through the roof as you make your way across the dance floor. Your eyes are locked onto your group, specifically searching for Ghost. The more alcohol that enters your system, the more you find yourself staring at him, noticing his every movement, every breath. You’d never allow yourself these thoughts while sober– the thought of wanting your Lieutenant is out of the question when your mind is clear, but right now it’s not. Your eyes search for him as you make your way back to the VIP section. 

“Lt?” You ask, sliding back onto the velvet sofa. 

“Went for a piss.” Soap exclaims.

“Why don’t you go meet him in the bathroom, maybe he could finally bend ya ov–” Johnny starts. 

“Soap!” Price cuts him off harshly. Soap only laughs, looking down the table to Gaz and the Captain. You look between the two of them, absolutely oblivious to the jokes that have been passed around the table all night.

“Oh, come on, Captain! He wants her and everyone knows it. We all see that shriveled up, cold, dead heart meltin’ at the sight of this bonnie.” Soap points to you. 

“Bloody hell, we bet on it!” Gaz chuckles, adjusting his cap.

“I must admit, I do see it.” König adds in. You squint down the table at him, and he immediately looks away. Price looks down at the boys like he’s schooling children. Your mouth falls open, taking in all the new information. 

“Remember that's your lieutenant you’re talking about. Leave his private life alone. You know how Simon is.” Price interjects, stopping the conversation before it gets out of hand. You blush fiercely, taken aback by their words. You don’t even think about what they’ve said, you can’t. Price looks to you apologetically. 

“What?” You ask, looking between them. “Ghost?” You double check, making sure that your hearing hasn’t totally left you. 

“He’s gone on you, mate.” Gaz adds, tone more serious than you would have expected.

“Christ, just pass me another drink.” You say, extending your hand out as König slides a shot down the table.

—

Thirty minutes later

You can feel his eyes on you. They’re burning through the thin fabric of your dress, where your breasts rest perfectly inside the silk, where the curve of your ass swells just above the hem of the dress. Your cheeks blush, whether from his eyes or the alcohol you’re not sure. Ghost doesn’t even try to hide his gaze, openly staring at you across the floor. His bourbon is held tightly in his hand as he watches you twirl on the dance floor between Soap and König. The lights aren't nearly as bright as your smile, and the night isn’t nearly as dark as the glint in your eyes. 

Ghost had watched men approach you on several occasions, and each time Soap shoved them away from you. You hadn’t given any of them the time of day. But Ghost? You’re taunting him, testing his self control to the point that he’s about to break. Every swing of your hips accompanies a purposeful glint in your eyes, a subtle bite of your lip. You’re teasing him, and he can’t take it. 

He deserves it. This is payback. He’s been apparently wanting you for months, and everyone in the damn Task Force knew about it but you. You’ve had enough of it. You extend your drink out for Soap to hold, accidentally bumping it against his chest and spilling a bit down his shirt. He takes the glass with furrowed eyebrows, looking down at your tipsy frame.

“Where ya headin’ to?” He yells over the music. 

“Have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back, j-just watch my drink.” You stumble over your words, eyes never leaving Ghost’s. Soap nods, taking your cocktail and continuing his conversation with König. 

Ghost inhales deeply from across the room, eyes fixated on the taunting little “come hither” motion of your finger. You turn away from him, making your way towards the VIP bathrooms. You walk slow enough that he can follow after you, not that you’re even capable of walking too fast, lest you lose your balance and fall over. You push past a few other people, your heart beating quickly as you go. The music is loud and the lights are low, which you’re grateful for. Hopefully no one notices Ghost trailing behind you. A warm buzz radiates in your chest, pulsing down your bones as the liquor you’ve been downing boosts your confidence and slows your movements. 

You push the door open, stepping into the dimly lit bathroom. It’s clean and orderly, perks of the VIP section. Immediately, you walk in front of the oval mirror, checking over your outfit and fixing your hair. You reapply a quick layer of red lipstick, tucking it back into your purse just as you hear the lock click. 

Before you can turn around, a solid warmth presses against your back. Ghost. The sink digs into your hip bones as he sandwiches you in, one hand pushing your hair over your shoulder. His skin on yours is more intoxicating than any drinks you've had tonight. He's never touched you, not like this. You giggle, tipsy as ever as he rolls his balaclava over his nose. 

"Ghost–" You whine, fingers clenching around the sink as he gently nips at the skin of your neck. He inhales your perfume, exhaling in a deep growl that rumbles through you. 

"Simon." He corrects, hands wrapping around your hips. For just a moment, you sober up. He wants you to use his real name? 

Your coherent thoughts fall away as he turns you around, hands nearly bruising your waist. He kisses you. It's sloppy and drunk, but it's everything. All the months of wondering, and hoping– he's kissing you. If you'd known it would only take a few rounds of drinks for the courage, you would have gotten drunk with him earlier. Painted fingernails dig into his shoulders as you lean up for more. His tongue delves into your mouth, and you whine. He tastes like his favorite bourbon, smells like expensive cologne– his signature scent that you could recognize anywhere. Eventually, you pull away for the oxygen that he's so easily stolen from you. 

"Everyone said…" You take a deep breath, glassy eyes flicking from his scarred lips and chin up to his eyes. He waits for a response, but sees hesitation.

"Hmmm, what did they say, love?" 

"They said you wanted me." 

"How couldn't I?" Ghost growls. 

You yelp as he grabs underneath your thighs and lifts you up onto the sink. His hands are massive, maneuvering you as if he was trained to do so. Your legs wrap around his waist, grinding against the pressure in his jeans.

"Fuckin hell, I've wanted you since you first joined the Task Force." Ghost growls in between kisses and bites to your pulsepoint.

You think back to all that time ago. It seems like ages since you met the cool headed, brooding, terrifying Simon "Ghost" Riley. You remember thinking how easily he could break you. Now?– Oh, how you want him to. 

Hearing him say it out loud sends a wave of need straight to your core. Your hands shoot for his black leather belt, but he shakes his head, stopping you before you can unclasp it.

"Not here, love." He shakes his head, gripping your chin to press one slow, sweet kiss to your plump lips. Your eyes slip shut, and you pout as he pulls away from you and slides his balaclava back down over his chin. Disappointment pools over you as you search for an explanation.

"Flat's not far." Is all he says before he grabs your wrist and pulls you off the sink. He unlocks the bathroom door and begins pulling you back towards the crowd. "Here. Order us an Uber, yeah?" Simon asks you, slipping his phone into your free hand. 

It's too much for your drunken mind to take in as he leads you through the crowd of people. Colored lights strobe, making it hard for you to make out faces, but eventually you spot your group across the club. Soap is still holding your drink, but now he's looking around. Price and Laswell are with him, eyebrows drawn together in worry.

Remembering your task, you look down to Ghost’s phone. It's already opened up to the app, but messages are coming in and you can't swipe them away quick enough. The light bothers your eyes, and you attempt to read the messages as they flutter across the blurry screen.

Cpt. Price:

-Is y/n with you at the table? We seem to have lost her. Very worried.

You swipe the message away, and quickly order an Uber to Ghost’s saved home address. It's difficult, and you have to squint to make out all the swirling numbers and bright lights. But eventually, even in your state, you manage to get a confirmation code and receipt. An unsaved number pops up, more than one notification at a time lighting up the screen:

-LT, where'd you end up?

-Y/n asked me to hold her drink, disappeared on me. 

-OH SHIT

-LT!

-YOU HOUND!

-HAHA! Getting a pump, eh, LT? No worries, lad. I'll tell the Cap what's going on.

Several erotic emojis pop up on the screen and you blush fiercely.  Then you giggle. Soap, of course. You shake your head to rid yourself of the idea. The last thing you want is for Soap to blab about this. 

Simon pulls you through the exit and into the cold night. The breeze causes a shiver to run up your spine, and your dress helps none. As he leads you towards the road, you check the address once more and slip Simon’s phone back into his blazer pocket. 

"I d-didn't know you lived in Manchester." You whisper as he leads you out into the cold night. 

"Manny, born and raised.” You can hear Ghost huff through his mask, as if something humors him, “But no one knows where I live." He mutters, leading you down towards the busy street. 

No one except for you.

Cars pass by, and scantily clad men and women rush down the sidewalks searching for the same pleasure that you’re seeking. You bite your lip, feeling a bit nervous now that this is actually happening. Simon squeezes your hand. 

A steady trickle of rain begins to sprinkle down from the dark night sky, and goosebumps trail down your bare arms and legs. As soon as you tense, Simon is pulling his blazer off. 

“Simon, that's not necessary, really–” You begin to protest, but he is already wrapping the expensive jacket around your shoulders. 

“Hush.” He warns, and you obey. It's instinct. He’s your lieutenant after all.

You can see the tug of a smirk under his mask, blonde eyelashes fluttering as his brown orbs flick down over your body. You frown lightly, feeling bad that he’s given up his jacket for your sake. 

“Don’t worry, love. I'll be taking it all off soon, yeah?”

The alcohol buzzing through your system, making everything fuzzy, only intensifies the burning desire in between your legs. You don’t know how much longer you can wait. If you had it your way, he would have already taken you, bent you over the sink and had his way. The thought alone causes butterflies to fall in your stomach. Cold fingers wrap around Simon’s phone, still resting in the coat you’re now wearing. His recent notifications are all from Soap, and you scroll through them until a new one pops up on the screen.

“Car’s here.” You whisper, half lidded eyes searching until you find the sleek, black Volvo as it pulls against the curb. He takes your hand again, pulling you towards the car. 

“Simon, how long is this ride gonna be? I don’t know how much longer I can take this.” You admit, wanting nothing more than to tear your damn dress to shreds and throw yourself at the man beside you. He only huffs, showing a self restraint that you could only dream of. 

“Patience.” Is all he says as he opens the car door for you. You step inside the nice car, scooting towards the other side to make room for Simon to sit in the back with you. You see the momentary panic in the driver’s eyes as a 6’4 masked man climbs into his backseat, but Simon only places his hand on your thigh and politely confirms the details with the man. 

Simon grips your thigh, the large pads of his fingers leaving imprints on your soft flesh. You shake your ankle, distracting yourself from the desire growing in your abdomen.

“Drive fast, yeah?” Simon mumbles, sliding twenty quid to the driver.

—

The door lock clicks. Simon checks it twice. 

His hands are on you in an instant, picking you up by your thighs and pushing you up against the wall. He didn’t turn the lights on, and your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark as Simon’s lips run over your jaw in sloppy kisses. You moan, hands wrapping around his neck and resting on the back of his balaclava. 

“Simon, please–” You whine, throwing your head back as he nips your earlobe. 

“Just a second, darling.” Ghost growls, holding you against him. He carries you through the dark flat, maneuvering drunkenly down an even darker hall. He approaches a door, and kicks it open like a human battering ram. You’re slowing him down, your lips pressing against him everywhere that they can reach, leaving love bites that he’ll still have in the morning. You kick your heels off before he even sets you down, your hands tearing off the blazer from your limbs. It hits the ground, Simon’s phone buzzing silently in the pocket. He’ll find several missed calls from the boys in the morning. You don’t even want to think about the notifications your phone is receiving. Luckily, you dropped your purse as soon as you entered the front door, so it can be a problem for tomorrow. 

Simon gently tosses you down on his king sized bed, and you fall onto the plush black blankets. They’re warm and soft and they smell like him. It’s all too intoxicating. You lean forward and unclasp Simon’s belt buckle as quickly as your intoxicated hands can manage as he pulls his shirt over his head, not bothering to unbutton it. You’re taken aback as you notice a sizable scar on his ribs. It's a messy, deep, pink scar that indents into his otherwise pale skin. Your eyebrows wrinkle, fingertips brushing near the flesh before he snatches your hand away, squeezing it too tight to the point that it hurts.

“Don’t.” Is all he says. It’s a warning, and you blush a deep crimson out of embarrassment. 

“Sorry.” You mutter, quietly. Simon brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a slow kiss to your knuckles. 

Ghost leans forward, hand gripping the side of your neck as he kisses you again. His balaclava tickles your nose as you deepen the kiss, leaning more into him. Any embarrassment or awkwardness from your last interaction falls away as he pushes his jeans down over his legs, lips still interlocked with yours. Simon steps out of his jeans and boxers, and your jaw falls slack. 

“Simon–” You stutter, eyes fixated on the length between his legs. Your eyes flick back up to his face, seeing the proud smirk he wears, even through the mask.. He simply won’t fit. It’s just not possible– He’s too big.

“I can’t-” You shake your head.

“I’ll be gentle, love.” He reassures, climbing overtop of you on the bed. Nervously, you nod. You trust him. Big hands grab you by the waist and flip you onto your stomach. You whine, clutching the sheets below you. He shushes you, and you gasp as golden beads and zipper teeth fly across the room, bouncing off of the floor and the glass window overlooking the city. A loud tear rings out as Ghost shreds your dress from the seams.

“Fuck, Simon! That was expensive!” You yelp as he pulls the ruined fabric from your body, discarding it on the floor. Laswell’s gonna kill you.

“I’ll  buy you a new one.” He growls, warm hand running down your bare back. His finger loops under the black lace thong you’re wearing. Simon smirks, “All for me?” He asks, releasing the lace so it smacks back down onto your skin. 

“Yes– all for you, only you, Simon.” You mumble, pushing your ass back up in hopes that he’ll touch you.

“That’s my girl.” 

You moan at his words, hands moving to your hips to shove the lace down off your legs, but he brushes your hands away, stopping you.

“Leave it on.” Simon rumbles at your back. You nod your head against the pillow, bringing your hands to rest under your head. Ghost pulls your thong string to the side, letting it rest just out of the way.

“Fuckin ‘ell, love.” Simon takes a breath, trying to keep the control that you’re so close to snapping as his fingers trail over your dripping folds. 

“Fuck, Simon. Stop teasing.” You beg, hips pushing back against his hand. He chuckles, dipping two fingers into your throbbing cunt. 

“O-Oh!” You whine, gripping the sheets as he hooks his thick fingers, hitting every sweet spot inside of you. Simon kisses your back, nudging your legs with his less busy hand so that they’re folded under your stomach and spread apart. He positions you low enough that your stomach touches the bed. He curls his fingers, scissoring them occasionally as you throb and whine for him. He groans at the noises you make, working you open until you’re ready. 

“Perfect.” He grumbles, sliding his fingers out of you. You whine in confusion until you feel the tip of his length teasing at your entrance. 

“Ready, love?” Ghost asks. You moan, biting your lip and nodding your head. 

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes. Im ready, just– please Simon, fuck!” You stutter. 

Simon slowly pushes in, and you gasp for air as he parts you like the fucking red sea. It hurts a little, and your nose wrinkles as you exhale. Simon notices the hitch in your breath, carefully examining your reaction to make sure you’re comfortable. It only takes a few moments for you to acclimate, and then he feels incredible. His size stretches you, reaching depths you didn't think possible. He hits every sweet spot as he spears into you. 

Simon’s chest presses against your back as he pushes into you. His scarred lips lock onto your neck, biting you as he fucks you from behind. He grips the headboard to steady himself, nearly leaving indents in the wood as he thrusts.

It's rough, drunk and sloppy as he drills into you. He starts out at a slow and steady pace, grinding into you rhythmically so as to not hurt you. Your exhales become sharp huffs, swirling together with the puffs of air he exhales next to your ear. If only you could turn around and kiss him again. You crave his lips against yours, satisfying the craving you’ve been ignoring for so long. But you know Simon might not be ready for that level of intimacy yet. You’ve heard stories, connected the dots. 

All too soon, you find yourself teetering on the edge from his movements. You gasp and moan under him, whimpering out his name so loudly that you’re sure the entire building can hear. The headboard rocks against the wall with every thrust, loudly slamming and leaving dents in the drywall. Neither of you care, too wrapped up in each other to even realize. 

Your neck is bruised from Simon’s lips, adding to the pleasure that’s pushing you over the edge. You fight it, but lose as pulsing heat tears through your core. Stars explode in your vision, eyes shut tight enough that they wrinkle. 

“F-uck, Simon!” You scream, nails digging into the sheets as your whole body trembles with the weight of your orgasm. Your walls squeeze Simon’s length in time with his thrusts, turning him into a groaning mess. 

“Bloody fuckin ‘ell." Simon groans, accent thicker than usual. His warm breath tickles your ear, and you gasp as he bottoms out, hitting your cervix. 

“You- You on the pill?” Simon manages to stutter out between deep grunts. He can’t risk pregnancy, can’t be a father. But you feel so fucking good and he can’t bring himself to unbury himself from your perfect, dripping cunt. 

“Got the patch– you’re good. Just fucking fill me up, please.” You beg, rocking your hips against him. He nearly curses at your words. You have a foul mouth in bed, something he wouldn’t have guessed. You whimper his name, and that’s all it takes. 

Simon grunts deep and guttural, and with one an iron grip on your hips, he fills you up with his spend. You moan, taking it all until you can’t, and it comes dripping out around him before he’s even finished. 

“That’s it, fffuck– y/n.” He grunts as the last of his seed spills out.

You press your forehead against the sheets, wincing as he pulls out of you and collapses beside you on the bed. A sheen of sweat lines both your bodies, but as much as you’d like a shower, you’re exhausted. A digital clock rests on the table beside Simon’s bed, and you sit up, squinting to look at it. 0300. Damn. 

You look back towards Simon. He’s half sitting up against the headboard, half laying down. You notice the thousand yard stare that he’s putting off, and you gently cup his chin, pulling his gaze towards you. 

“You okay?” You ask, rolling up his balaclava with your dainty fingers. You uncover the subtle smile on his lips. You smile in retur, half lidded eyes focusing on the shape of his lips. Your thumb traces over them gently.

“Better now.” He whispers. You press a kiss to his lips, slow and sweet before pulling away. 

“Get some sleep, love.” He says, softer than you’ve ever heard his voice. Much to his surprise, you tuck yourself into the crook of his side, wrapping your arms around his torso. Sleep overcomes you almost immediately. He’s too warm, too perfect. It’d be impossible for you to stay awake next to the comforting, human heater that he is. 

Simon hesitates. It’s been a long time since anyone has been this close to him. The bourbon gave him confidence enough to bring you home, but this is a very new territory, and not even the alcohol can guide him through this one. Sex is one thing, but intimacy? Emotional vulnerability? Simon burned those handbooks long ago.

“Love?” He asks, awkwardly looking to see if you’re awake. You don’t respond, asleep he confirms. Simon’s not sure what to do. He doesn’t want to move you. Are you comfortable? Is he too close? Too warm? 

He sighs, looking down at your arms tightly wound around him. No one’s shown him this type of affection, not ever. He’s not sure how to reciprocate it, but he wants to. One day at a time. Simon pulls the blanket up over your waist, checking twice to make sure that it's covering you. Carefully, he places a hand over your back, feeling your soft skin against his. 

He doesn’t sleep at all, opting to stay awake and watch the small rise and fall of your back on his lap. He doesn’t deserve you, he's sure. But you’re here, and that’s something.

[crowsofdarkness]

Soldat: Chapter Seven

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Agent! Reader. Slight Steve Rogers x Female Agent! Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + implied smut, angst, fluff, kidnapping, violence.

Summary: Agent Y/N has worked alongside Steve Rogers at SHIELD for some time all while keeping a dark secret from everyone. Until one day that darkness faces her head on and she's forced to make a choice. Continue fighting along side Captain America? Or find her home once again with Soldat?

Authors Note: This was originally published on my old blog as a trilogy so I will be in the slow process of adding it to this blog. This is the first of the trilogy and will take place during The Winter Soldier. If anyone is interested in being tagged, let me know!

Very slight implied smut in this chapter, very tame. Also, there are three chapters left! Once Soldat is complete, I will begin posting the next in the series.

Tags: @globetrotter28 @sakuracyberhex @chinggay85-blog @bookofriverr @misatxox @that-blonde-girl

Soldat Masterlist

Day One 

Eyes fluttered open softly, allowing the light to blind me for a few seconds as I stared up at the crackling ceiling. I followed the lines, hoping that it would lead me to an idea where I was but came up empty as I realized I was in a room with no windows, one door, and the lone cot I was currently laying on. My heart thumped in fear as I tried to remember how I ended up here. 

I was drinking in a bar in Siberia as I was going over my notes for the local terrorist group I was following. I was alone for most of the night until a strange man came up beside me, gun pressed to my side, muttering in my ear that I had to go with him or else.

The last thing I could remember was getting thrown into the back of a van and darkness. The watch on my wrist indicated that happened..

Sixteen hours ago?!

“What the fuck happened to me?” I groaned, clutching my forehead. 

The door clicked open, men dressed in European military uniforms catching my immediate attention. 

“Where am I?” I spoke in the native tongue. 

They ignored me, continuing on with their own conversation and paid no attention as they stood guard at the door, guns slightly drawn. 

Discreetly, I slid my hand down my calf trying to feel if the knife I stashed into my boot was still there. 

“You think we would leave you with a weapon?”

A small man entered the room now, glasses perched high on his nose. He gently removed his hat, handing it to one of the guards before sitting on a chair in front of my cot. 

“Who are you?” I questioned. 

He merely tsk’d before pulling a grey folder from his briefcase. “Y/N L/N. You’ve been an agent with the FBI for almost two years now and you’ve only been on one case. Why is that?” 

“Is that a file on me?” My eyes landed on the file.

“You were on New York SWAT for three years before this but had to leave for ‘different opinions’ pertaining to a rather personal case.” 

“That’s no one's business but my own,” I snapped. “You shouldn’t even have that information.” 

“I’m a very powerful man, Ms. L/N. I have many ways to get the information I want. Just like how you got info about me.” 

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” I squinted my eyes at him. 

“You’ve been looking for me for the last six months. I thought we could finally meet.” He gave me a small smile. 

“Wait,” my eyes widened. “You’re Dr. Zola? I thought you were dead. That’s why it’s been so hard to find you.” 

The older gentleman clicked his tongue against his teeth. “No, not Zola. But his apprentice. You can call me Dr. Berge” 

“Why did you kidnap me? To shut me up?” I crossed my arms over my chest, foot shaking with nerves. 

Dr. Berge handed one of the guards the folder before shaking his head. “Our last student didn’t make it. We needed someone new.” 

“Stu-student?” I stuttered. 

“Yes, for Soldat.” Bergenodded. 

“Soldat?” 

He answered my question with a wave; a new man entered the small room. My tired eyes raked in his appearance from head to toe. He was dressed in combat boots and black cargo pants. His broad chest was covered in a black vest, various pockets that held God only knew what, his long brown hair was falling into his eyes but did nothing to fix it. The only thing that held my gaze, however, was his left arm. It wasn’t like his right; this one was made entirely of metal. 

“Who’s this?” I questioned, voice shaking with fear. 

“Ah Soldat, meet your new student. Hopefully she’ll last longer than the last one.” Berge clapped his hands before leaving the room. 

Soldat remained in place, a few feet away from me, and he slowly nodded to the guards. 

“Leave us,” he demanded in Russian. 

Suddenly, it was just him and I, my fear being the only thing you could feel in the room by my heart beating faster and faster. 

“What am I your student for?” I mustered to ask. 

“To fight.”

Day 23 

“I need a minute,” I gasped for air as I tried to gain some space. 

“You don’t have a minute.” Soldat reminded me as he flipped me over his shoulder, my own falling hard to the mat below. 

It had been a hell of a couple of weeks. I had been captured by who I had come to find was the terrorist group I had been searching for; Hydra. 

Every morning and night, Soldat would come to my room and train me for hours, fighting non stop. I had yet to find out why I was being trained to fight. 

Soldat barely said a word to me during these training sessions. He was instructed to train me not to make small talk. I couldn’t get a read on him, what his story was or how he ended up here. 

“Mother fucker,” I cursed, clutching my shoulder. “I think it’s dislocated.” 

Soldat remained silent, roughly pulling me to my feet and snapped my arm back into place causing a scream to erupt from my throat. 

“That’s enough!” I screamed pushing my palms into his chest. “I’m done! No one has told me why I’m here, getting my ass kicked by a guy with a fucking metal arm!” 

A small smile pulled at his lips and all the anger from being held captive here built up causing me to bring my hand back, wiping that smile off his face with my fist. 

Regret filled me when I saw the quick flash of anger cloud his eyes but his deep laugh relaxed my shoulders a tad. 

“That’s more like it.” He muttered while rubbing his jaw. 

“I already know how to fight. I don’t need someone to teach me,” I admitted, fists clenched at my sides. 

Soldat nodded. “Then next time should be easy for you.” 

Day 37

The chill in the air caused me to wrap the blanket closer to me as I dug myself deeper into the bed that I started calling my own. I was unsure of the time but the tiredness in my bones made me believe it was time to let sleep succumb to me. 

A soft sigh left my lips as my mind wandered yet again to the man that had been clouding it the past few weeks. 

It had been almost two weeks since my last training session with Soldat. He stopped coming by in the mornings and nights which made me wonder if our sessions were over and what that meant for me. 

That thought was short-lived when Berge brought in someone else to train me. He didn’t want me to forget anything while Soldat was away. 

Rumor had it, Hydra sent him away from some mission. 

Besides the one old guard that would bring my food twice a day, Soldat was the only constant thing in this prison that had become my home. 

Heavy eyes fluttered shut, breaths becoming deeper and heavier and the long awaited sleep was so close. But the door to my room slamming open caused my eyes to snap open and I pushed myself to my knees. I watched as Soldat entered, anger clear on his face. 

“Where have you-.” 

The air to my lungs was constricted as Soldat wrapped his metal fingers around my throat, slamming me deeper into the cot. 

I trashed against his body, nails digging into the skin of his flesh arm, not bothering him an inch. I racked my brain for all the training he had taught me to try and get out of this. I attempted to wrap my legs around his waist to flip him but he was two seconds ahead of me, his flesh hand pining my hips down onto the bed. 

My body began to sweat with the fear of what was about to come. 

I wrapped a hand around his metal wrist as I looked into his eyes, the light far gone from them. 

“Soldat,” I choked out. 

The air suddenly rushed back into my lungs causing me to cough uncontrollably as he finally let go, the bruises already starting to form I was sure. 

His hand and hips kept me locked into place on the bed and his other hand gripped my chin, forcing me to look in his eyes. 

“You only train with me. No one else can have you.” His voice demanded through gritted teeth. 

Once I could breathe again, I gave him a sorrowful nod. “I’m sorry.” 

We stayed in this position for a few more beats, his hips locking mine into place while his eyes bore into my own. His chest rose and fell with each breath, mimicking my own in the small tank top I wore; it was one of the few clothes that Hydra had lent me. 

Soldat’s eyes traveled over the swell of my breasts and I felt the heat spread down to my core as he slowly ran his tongue over his bottom lip. 

“Get some sleep. We’re starting early tomorrow,” he breathed before pushing himself off of me. 

The room had a sudden chill to it as soon as he left the room and after wrapping myself into a cocoon with my blanket, I found myself falling asleep wishing it was his arms

Day 56

Chains dragged behind me as I followed the path the two guards were leading me on. We turned a corner and continued down another long hallway. They had dragged me out of bed this morning, muttering something about getting some “fresh air”. 

I chuckled at their definition of fresh air; it was a small sunroom with a few potted plants and one large bench seat. Thankfully the bright sunlight beamed through the glass windows, spreading warmth into my skin. 

“Ten minutes,” one of the guards demanded while tossing me a book. 

They took their post on the outside of the door, backs turned to me, and I opted for not reading the book deciding I would rather stare out of the windows. This was the first time in almost two months that I had been granted access to the outside world. 

Sort of. 

The beautiful images of mountains scattered the skyline, the fresh snow blowing in the wind. I walked closer to the windows, peering down below and that was when I realized I was high up. 

Wherever I was being held captive was on top of a mountain. 

“Beautiful.” 

Jumping at the deep voice, I looked over my shoulder and a small smile came to my face. 

“Soldat, you’ve returned.” 

He nodded, tucking a strand of hair out of his face. “I returned last night.” 

“How was your mission?” 

His silence was enough of an answer I needed. 

“Have you been training?” He questioned, still keeping a safe distance between us. 

Immediately I shook my head, the chains rattling. “They won’t let me while you're away. You’re the only one I can train with.”

Soldat turned his head, eyes taking in the appearance of the chains around my wrists and ankles. A scowl appeared underneath the stubble covering his mouth and he beckoned me over with a finger. 

Swallowing thickly, I tried the best I could to walk over to him, feet coming to a halt in front of him. He gripped the chains with his metal fingers, breaking them off of me with ease. 

“You’re not a monster,” he muttered. 

I rubbed away the red marks on my wrists while giving him a smile of thanks. “What will happen to you once they find out?”

“You should get some rest, we have a big training session tomorrow.” Soldat spoke, ignoring my question. 

I wondered with fear what exactly they would do to him. Every time he would arrive back from a mission, his screams would echo through the base, keeping me awake at night. I yearned to be with him, comfort him. He was the only constant in my life now, I would do anything to be with him; to keep him from pain. 

“Will you sit with me?” I nodded to the bench. “We don’t need to talk, just your company is enough.” 

His body tensed, a bit hesitant, before he nodded and we both sat down with our knees a few spaces away from each other. I reached for the book and felt his gaze burn deep into the side of my head as I quietly read the pages, Russian almost becoming a second language to me. 

We sat in silence, Soldat’s eyes watching me as I carefully turned the pages of the book, enjoying the quiet company of the man who would scare others. 

“Soldat, do you know what this word is? I haven’t come across this one yet.” 

I pointed towards a word in the book that was giving me trouble and felt the heat radiate off of him as he leaned closer to me, his shoulder brushing against my own. 

“Dorogaya. It means my darling.” 

My core twitched at the Russian translation and I coughed, trying to mask my arousal. “Thank you.” 

“Dorogaya,” he repeated, this time more quietly to himself. 

Day 85

“Faster! Harder!”

I let the screams of slight encouragement fuel me as I landed my fists into Soldat’s bare stomach, the force behind my punches doing nothing to phase him. 

He reached for my neck but I swiftly ducked while spinning on my heels, tripping him in the process. Soldat landed hard on his back, the wind being knocked out of him, and I straddled his hips with my own, my hands pinning his own above his head. 

Our breaths matched in sync, eyes boring into each other, and the sight of the smirk on his face made my heart nearly burst out of its cage. 

“I win,” I breathed, my breath fanning over his bare chest. 

My fingers itched want to run all over his grooves and muscles. Resisting the urge, I released my grip on his hands but felt the world turn as Soldat gripped my hips, slamming me on my back. His dark eyes stared down at mine, tongue rolling antagonizing slowly between his lips. He leaned closer to my own, his warm breath breathing life into me. 

“I let you win.” 

“Oh really,” I cheekily asked, a flirtatious smirk pulling at my lips. 

Soldat nodded with his nose brushing against my own. “Of course, dorogaya.” 

My heart fluttered at the pet name he had given me. Ever since our time in the sun room together, we had slowly started becoming closer with each and every training session. I was, however, afraid to take it farther than our flirtatious comments and soft touches. I wouldn’t allow him to get in trouble, or worse; hurt. Just because of how I felt about him. 

His metal fingers traced down from my cheek to my neck and rested above the lines of my breasts. My breath became erratic when the lightly brushed over my left nipple, perky already due to the coldness of the building. Fingers dug through his locks and gave a slight tug causing a groan to vibrate low in Soldat’s chest. 

“Are you leaving again?” I asked. 

He shook his head while palming my breast and I allowed a moan to slip through my lips.

“I told them no more missions until our training is done,” He spoke low. 

I nodded. 

“We really should stop. Before they find us.” I stuttered, not wanting him to stop kneading my breast with his hand. 

“Let them, they can’t do anything to hurt me that they haven’t done before,” Soldat breathed into the skin of my neck. 

He nipped and sucked there, leaving his mark to show the others here who I belonged to. My hands ran down the thickness of his back and I pressed my hips up into his, a loud hiss breaking its way out of his throat. 

“Dorogaya,” Soldat moaned. 

My fingers traced up his back, slowly fading over where his skin met metal. His body tensed, the lust in the air immediately dissipating as he pushed his body off of me. I was left alone on the dirty floor of my room as I watched him grab his shirt, throwing it over his chest. 

“Did I do something?” I questioned, sitting to my knees. 

“I need to go,” he grunted. 

“Soldat,” I stood to my feet now, “Please tell me if I did something!” 

He ignored my cries of wonder, letting the door slam behind him and drowning out my quiet sobs. 

Day 124

No more training sessions. 

Berge had told me that I was done training with Soldat. He had too many missions to go on and not enough time to give to me. Doubt racked my brain if that was truly the reason why they wouldn’t allow him to train me anymore. They must have found out about us. 

I couldn’t dwell on it for long, Berge assigned another guard to my training. He wasn’t anything compared to Soldat; he was quiet and wouldn’t allow me the chance to improve. Only wanting to show off his strength. We had moved the training sessions in the main area of the compound, in front of every eye. But the only eyes that mattered were the ones that I wanted approval of. 

Soldat would watch from a distance, not bothering to step in when the new trainer would hit me a little too hard. I wouldn’t let that phase me, though. I gave it back a hundred times harder which would only anger him more. 

Which is how I ended up sporting a black eye for the last week. 

Soldat almost stepped in when the new trainers hand grazed lower and lower from my back with each session. Earlier today, we had been sparring in front of all of the other guards and I did my best to ignore their gawks of stares as I attempted to land a strike to his stomach. He was a step ahead of me, twisting my wrist behind my back and pulling me into his chest. I felt his rapid breathing against my back as he leaned his lips against my ear. 

“I love the way your ass fits against me,” He groaned. 

I knew if I tried anything he would twist my arm higher up so I stood frozen in fear while my eyes traveled to the man in the corner, giving him silent pleads for help. 

Soldat turned his back on me. 

After the sparring session, I retreated back to my room, a broken woman. My ego was hurt that I had succumbed so low to these beatings in front of other men. My heart was broken that the one man I had fallen hard for wanted nothing to do with me.

A soft groan left my lips as I stared out into the darkness of the room, sleep being the farthest thing from my mind. 

“God, Y/N you’ve got to move on from him,” I ran a hand over my face with a very unattractive groan leaving my lips. 

“Talking to yourself again?” 

Sitting up in bed, I turned on the bedside lamp and made out a large silhouette standing by the door. But even in the soft darkness, the metal arm was hard to miss. 

“What are you doing here?” I questioned. 

Soldat stepped closer, stopping at the foot of my bed. “I’ve come to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” My voice shook with fear. 

I then noticed he was dressed in his tac gear which meant only one thing. 

“You’re going on a mission?” 

He nodded. “I’ll be back by tomorrow night.” 

Pulling my knees to my chest, I raised my brow at him. “You’ve never said goodbye before.”

“I wanted to see you.” He gave a small shrug of his broad shoulders. 

“Oh,” I mouthed.

I allowed silence to overcome us as we both stared at one another, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. My palms began to sweat seeing the fire behind his eyes and I absentmindedly bit my lip. 

Soldat ran a hand through his hair before a quiet fuck it slipped from his lips. He kicked off his boots before crawling his way towards me on the bed. 

“What are you doing?” I asked. 

He ignored my question, only rolling onto his back while pulling me into his chest and his arms wrapping around me. The rapid beating of his heart told me that he was nervous but still kept his arms tightly around me. 

“I’ve been on hundreds of missions but now,” Soldat started, “Now, I’m worried about leaving you. With them.” 

“I’ll be fine. You’ve taught me well.” I gave his sides a small squeeze. 

“I’ve never felt this way before. It’s all new to me.” He admitted. 

“What is?” 

Instead of using words, Soldat’s fingers grazed my chin and pulled my face up to look into his eyes. He took a deep breath before he gently placed his plump lips over mine. The hairs on his chin and face tickled me as our lips moved slowly in sync. 

My heart thumped through its cage in my chest as I ran my fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss. His own hands found their way over my stomach, down to my core and slowly ghosted over it. 

“Soldat, please.” I moaned. 

“You’re mine.” He grunted, fingers finally touching my heated core over my shorts. “All mine.” 

“Only yours, I promise.” 

My breath hitched in my throat when I felt the heat of his fingers against the skin of my stomach, brushing over the waistband of my shorts. While his flesh ones worked with the ties of my shorts, his metal one pulled the ends of my hair, forcing my eyes away from his work on my shorts. 

“I’ll come back to you.” He vowed. 

I nodded. 

“I know you will and I’ll be here waiting for you. Always.” 

Soldat brushed his lips against mine, tongue delving between my lips and danced with my own as the kiss intensified. 

“I have to go.” He groaned against me. 

“Stay.” I begged, clutching onto his arms. 

“It’s my mission.” 

Pulling away reluctantly, I gripped his chin and stared into his eyes. “Please be safe.” 

“Of course, dorogaya.” 

Day 131

Seven days. 

One week. 

168 hours. 

That’s how long it had been since I last saw Soldat. 

He had yet to return from his mission and what originally was supposed to be a one night mission turned into one week. 

I sat on the edge of my cot with my knee bouncing in worry as I chewed roughly on my bottom lip. I feared that Berge had found out about Soldat and I, which was the reason why he had yet to return. 

“Where the hell are you?” I muttered. 

I waited a little while longer, eyes trained hard on the door, hoping that he would bust through any moment. But after a few minutes of nothingness, I turned my back to the door only for it to open a second later. 

“Come with me.” 

My eyes squinted towards the guard, confusion well on my face. “Where are you taking me? I haven’t left in a whole week.” 

“Soldat’s orders.” The guard ordered. 

My heart rate sped up at the mention of his name. “Is he back?” 

“No but he’s requested that you stay in his living quarters now.” 

“Wh-what? Why?” I sputtered. 

“As a reward for completing his mission. Come now.” 

The guard quickly waved me to follow and not wanting to live another minute in this tiny hell, I scrambled to my feet and followed. Not bothering to take anything with me, I tracked close behind the guard as we turned a few more corners, coming to a stop at a lone door at the end of the hallway. 

The guard grunted towards the door before leaving me alone, my steady breaths coming in and out of my nose as I took a second to gain my bearings. In the months that I had been held captive here, I had never seen Soldat’s room; or anything else besides my room, the sparing center, and the “outside” room I was allowed to sit in every few days. 

My hand gently grasped the cold knob and taking one last breath, I slowly pushed the door open. Before my feet crossed the threshold, I gazed around the room taking in every inch of Soldat’s private space. 

It wasn’t big by any means, it would definitely be crowded with the two of us, however it warmed my heart knowing that we would be sharing that bed together. The bed was only made for one and was even small for Soldat. 

Next to the bed was a table that mirrored the one I had in my room. On the top of the table rested a small lamp and a book that looked like it was read ten times over. On the other side of the room was a small dresser that had more books resting on it and next to the dresser was a door that led to somewhere I was unsure of. The large window on one wall allowed the sunset to stream in, painting the entire room in a golden light. 

My gaze rested on a pair of clothes that were neatly folded on the chair in the other corner of the room. Taking a breath, I crossed over the threshold into Soldat’s room and grasped the pair of clean clothes in my hands. It was only a new pair of jeans, underwear, and a long sleeve shirt but the soft fabric was enough to bring me to tears. I had only been given new clothes once since being here and that was the first night. 

“It’s not much but it’s home.” 

Jumping at the deep voice, I turned on my heels and felt my heart leap to my throat. Soldat stood at the doorway, his body a clear indication of the toll the mission put on him. Stray hairs had fallen from the low bun he had pulled them in, the lines on his face screamed that he hadn’t slept in days, and his tac gear was covered in dirt and blood, the blood had also covered his metal arm in streams. Fear raked my body, wondering whose blood was all over Soldat and I bit my lip to stop from asking. 

“You’re back,” I breathed. 

He remained silent, his intense gaze taking over my body. His body tensed when he fell on my lips, the sight of the two cuts burning into his brain. 

“What happened?” 

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shifted on my feet. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” 

“What happened?” Soldat questioned again, this time closing the distance between us. 

Metal fingers gripped my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes as they danced over my face. Anger flashed across them when the soft words left my busted lips. 

“Ben didn’t appreciate getting beat by a girl.” 

“What did he do?” Soldat demanded. 

“He just hit me a little too hard. I’m fine, Soldat.” I reassured him as I gripped his flesh arm. 

The anger still flooded his veins and I linked my fingers with his metal ones, fearing he would leave me and do something we would both regret. 

“You need to get yourself cleaned up,” I encouraged. 

Soldat was still silent, only giving me a small nod as he pulled me with him towards the closed door. 

“What?” I questioned. 

“You need a bath.” He demanded. 

Licking my lips, I let the fear of him seeing my bare flesh push away the thoughts of us in the bath together.

“No, you can go first Soldat. The blood is going to take awhile to clean.” I lied, hoping that would keep the thought of us naked together out of his head. 

I was afraid of what he would think when he saw the bruises and scars that covered my body. 

His eyes hardened, seeing right through my lies, as he gripped my arm causing a loud hiss to pass through my lips. 

“Fuck,” I cursed pulling my arm to my chest. 

He didn’t grip me that hard, I knew that. It only hurt because of the bruise that covered half of my forearm. 

“Take off your shirt.” 

The soles of my shoes were frozen to my spot, being weighed down with the fear of what Soldat was about to see.

“Sol-.” I started. 

“Take it off,” his voice was deeper and rougher. 

Gnawing on my bottom lip, shaky fingers gripped the bottom of my shirt, slowly raising it over my stomach and head, letting it fall to the floor in silence. Instinctively my arms wrapped around my chest, trying to cover as much as I could. Soldat didn’t make me uncomfortable; the idea of showing him my battle scars is what did. 

His dark eyes were now almost black as he looked over my bareness of flesh, taking in every inch of bruises and new scars that had yet to heal over my stomach, chest, and arms. The blood had dried hours ago but the exhaustion of today’s training had stopped me from cleaning my wounds. 

My mouth dried with the intensity radiating from Soldat’s body. 

“We-uh, Ben decided to start the knife training today. He wouldn’t let me get a chance to prove myself. He kept stabbing and slicing,” I admitted quietly. 

Soldat's tongue grazed over his bottom lip and nodded to the door behind me. “We need to clean those wounds.” 

“Are you upset?” 

The tone in his voice answered my question before I even asked it but I needed to make sure he wouldn’t leave, do something stupid. 

He remained silent, beckoning me to follow him with a snap of his head. Obeying with a soft sigh, I trailed behind him into the bathroom that was connected to his room. The soft breeze coming from the vents caused me to wrap my arms around my bare chest, trying to keep the warmth in. I could see the way Soldat’s muscles in his back tensed as he leaned over, running hot water and letting it fill the tub. The steam danced around his head as he peeked over his shoulder, nodding towards my pants. 

The silence was thickening and my fingers gripped the top of my pants, slowly pulling them down my legs; the new visions of bruises and scars clouding Soldat’s vision. The only thing keeping me from bearing it all to him was a thin piece of fabric. Soldat turned on his knees, face inches from my core, and goosebumps rose to my skin as I felt his finger slide my underwear down over my knees and I stepped out of them. He tossed them to the side while keeping his eyes trained hard on me as he looked up into my own. 

“Get in.” Soldat’s flesh fingers tapped the back of my thigh, his warm breath brushing against my heated core. 

The water immediately eased the sore muscles and wounds as I submerged myself, pulling my knees to my chest. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Soldat stripping himself of his own clothes before I felt the water slosh behind me. Metal fingers wrapped around my middle pulling me into a hard chest. We sat in silence as he first cleaned me then him. 

“I should have been here,” his words mumbled against the skin of my shoulder as he pressed a soft kiss there. 

“You needed to go on your mission.” I reminded him. 

“I will kill him.” He vowed. 

I hushed him with a soft squeeze of his thigh, fingers resting easily over the mass of them. “I’ll be alright.” 

“You’re coming with me on the next mission.” 

I smiled at the softness in his voice. 

“I don’t think Berge will like that.” I admitted. 

Soldat took a damp cloth to my legs and stomach, cleaning the wounds with soft touches. 

“They can kill me to try and stop me.” Soldat deadpanned. 

I opened my mouth to protest but he silenced me with a kiss to my forehead, whispering promises of him saving me, protecting me, no matter what the cost will be. 

“I missed you, dorogaya.”Soldat breathed, his cock hardening against the small of my back. 

“I missed you too,” I moaned. 

His fingers grazed over my core underneath the water, rubbing circles over my clit. His lips attached to my neck, leaving his mark for all to see. 

“I need you.” 

The water splashed out of the tub as Soldat lifted me out and carried me bridal style into his bedroom. I fell to the bed with a soft sigh and my eyes took in the God-like form of Soldat, his dick twitching with anticipation. I took in every groove and line of his muscles, the way they tensed under the light as he stood in front of me. 

“Soldat,” I begged, “I can’t wait anymore.” 

“Say your mine.” He commanded. 

“I’m yours.” 

“Good girl,” Soldat praised while his metal fingers stroked his already hard cock. 

He slowly climbed up the bed, laying soft kisses over the skin of my legs and thighs on his way up. My body shook with the want of his body on mine, skin on skin underneath the moonlight from outside. 

That night, our bodies linked together in pure bliss and adoration for one another. Our moans that bounced off the walls were a proclamation of our growing love for each other. 

That night was the first and last time Soldat and I made love.

 Day 132-The last day. 

Eyes slowly blinked open as I patted the spot next to me, finding it empty and cold. My brows pulled together in confusion as I looked around the room trying to figure out where Soldat had gone. I groaned at the soreness between my legs as I sat up in bed, clutching the sheet tighter to my chest. The memories of last night clouded my vision and my cheeks reddened remembering all the ways Soldat’s fingers and mouth had pleasured me. 

The door had burst open causing me to jump at the sight of the man that had entered. 

“Where did you–?” 

“You have to go; leave.” Soldat rushed while handing me my clothes. 

“What?” Tears started to well up in my eyes. 

“You need to leave, now. It’s not safe for you anymore.” Soldat demanded. 

Rising from the bed, I let the sheet fall to the floor before quickly dressing. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Soldat ran a hand over his tired face before a loud sigh left his lips. “Berge has plans for you that I will not let happen. You need to leave here.” 

“Plans?” I croaked. “What plans?” 

“There’s a door on the other end of the compound that I always leave through to go on my missions. I left it unlocked last night. Once you’re outside, run west for 5 miles. There will be a gas station where you can call for a ride.” 

Soldat ignored my questioning pleads as he handed me a pair of his boots and a jacket to keep me warm once I was outside. 

“No, Soldat. I’m not leaving you.” 

“It’s not up for discussion. You’re leaving.” He demanded. 

“I won’t leave you. I love-.”

My confession was short lived as we heard voices yelling from down the hallway. Soldat cursed before pulling me into his chest. His plump lips brushed against my forehead while his hands wrapped around my back, giving a hard squeeze. My fingers gripped tight his vest, the fear of leaving him weighing heavy on my chest. 

“I can’t leave you, Soldat.” I confessed. 

“Wait ten minutes then take a left at the end of the hallway, the door to your escape will be the last one on the left.” 

Soldat pulled away from me, strong eyes staring into my sad ones. His pink lips stood out from underneath the stubble that had grown since the last time I had seen him. I unknowingly reached out for him as he took a step away from me. 

“Soldat,” I sobbed. “Please don’t make me leave.” 

“Stay safe, Dorogaya.”  

We shared one last loving glance before I watched him turn his back on me, walk down the hall and out of my life. 

Those ten minutes had passed by antagonizing slowly and now matter how much I wanted to stay here with Soldat, I knew that he was looking out for my safety. We both knew the kind of man Berge was and if whatever he had planned for me scared even Soldat, I knew I had to trust him. 

Regretfully, my feet took me down the way that Soldat had instructed me. They froze, however, when I noticed commotion coming from the room to my left; the one I had to pass in order for me to reach my freedom. 

“Get him in the chair!” 

“Sir, it’s been months since we’ve wiped him. We don’t know the risks!” 

“I don’t care about the risks! He needs to forget her!” 

Slowly peeking from around the corner, I watched in fear as four men struggled to get Soldat in a chair that sat in the middle of the room. No matter how much he had fought the men, Soldat gave up in the end, falling into the chair with a groan. 

When his broken eyes landed on me, his chest rose in fear and he motioned to the door, begging me to leave. 

“I’m sorry,” I mouthed. 

Not wanting to stick around and see what they were about to do to him, no matter how much I loved him, I ran down the hallway and out of the prison I had called home for the last 132 days. And away from the one and only man that would haunt my dreams every single night for the next three years.

[minniesmutt]

♱ ━━━━━━ 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋: 𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐀 

♱ ━━━ CONTENT: MENTION OF DRUGS, ALCOHOL, VIOLENCE, PRISON, THERAPY MENTIONS, MORE OF A FILLER CHAPTER, WET DREAM, COCKWARMING, GRINDING, PET NAMES, IMPLIED MORE ROUNDS ♱ ━━━ WC: 1K ♱ ━━━ PAIRING: FELIX X READER ♱ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog ♱ ━━━ a repost from my old blog

     Information was always easy for Felix to find. Everything was on the internet. Everything was put into databases. Police files, card info, medical information, everything. It was such easy access.

     From day one, Felix was already looking into Y/n, even before Minho asked him. He knew they didn’t find anything at her old apartment. So to the internet, he went. Checking her social media first. The fabricated life people selectively chose to put out. 

     Most photos were with friends. Trips, clubs, drinks, anything. Normal twenty-something-year-old behavior. Moving on to her friend’s profiles, it was the same story. Looking into them first.

     Seana was clean essentially. She had no issues with the law and worked a good job to keep herself afloat. Posted about her friends just like Y/n. Nothing was an issue with her. Karina had a bit of a record; driving under the influence, hit and runs, possession of illegal drugs. She had a job but more of a part-time thing. Nothing that really helped support the lifestyle she wanted to portray online.

     Looking into the family was next. From what he gathered and found out from reports, her dad hadn’t been in her life since she was young and was in jail on the other side of the country. There were no records of calls to anyone since his incarceration. Pretty content with rotting away in the system. Multiple times considering he had a bit of a history of being released and getting back in months later. 

     Her mom had passed away a few years ago. Coroners report stating a mix of drugs and alcohol. Grandparents having passed away or lived elsewhere in the country. Y/n essentially had no family from what Felix could tell. He felt a little bad for her, being on your own like that could hurt.

     Checking through medical records were next on the list. The first thing he noticed was notes from therapy sessions. Becoming very interested, he made his own copy of the notes and saved it onto his computer before he heard the elevator ding.

     “Felix?” He heard Y/n’s voice call.

     “Yeah?” He called back as he minimized the windows and pulled up some other things he had been looking into for Chan.

     Y/n walked into his little home office as he turned around in his chair. Sitting in his loungewear— a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt— as she made her way over to him.

     “What’s up, princess?” Felix asked as she made her way over to him.

     “Just a bit bored, figured I come bug you,” Y/n said as he pulled her onto his lap.

     “Keep me company while I work then, yeah?”

     “Can do,” Y/n smiled as he spun the chair around back to his screens.

     Y/n wrapped her arms around him and listened to his keyboard taps and mouse clicks. It was soothing to listen to honestly. Lulling her back into sleep on top of the blonde’s lap. 

     Felix noticed her asleep a few minutes later, gently rubbing her back before pulling her medical files out again. Reading through it, a few things jumped out at him. Trust issues, compulsively lying, unwilling to work through trauma.

     Felix emailed the notes he thought were most important to Chan but kept reading. 

     “Client has mentioned early life with mother but not much. Briefly mentioned biological mother being under the influence often and redirecting anger onto the client.”

     “Client laughs when explaining a core event in her life.”

     “Clients says alcohol intake has gone down; was previously using to cope.”

     Felix kept reading. He could make guesses now why she chose to stay with them. Given her family history, maybe some lack of attention growing up caused her to seek it from anywhere in her adult life. Now, she had eight men ready to do that at any time of the day. 

     Being a liar could be useful to them. But it made him wonder; only one friend had been caught by law enforcement and charged. The other one was clean from head to toe. Y/n seemingly had a history of issues— using to cope could mean getting into some trouble. But nothing. 

     But she seemed so unphased by the eight being gangsters. Maybe she’d never been caught? Maybe she was clean? It was a little difficult to tell. 

     Felix reclined back into his chair and wrapped his arms around Y/n. He gently rubbed her back as he took in the information. He knew Chan had a plan from the beginning of this arrangement, but he also had a feeling this information was going to give him a bit more of an idea to use her.

     Felix chuckled a bit to himself as he went back to some other tasks. “Lix,” Y/n mumbled

     “Yes, princess?” He asked looking down at her. Her eyes still closed but little moans came out of her as she subtly grinded on him.

     “Silly girl,” Felix said as he moved his hands down to her ass and pulled her closer, kissing the side of her head, “Y/n.” He said

     “Mhm?” She asked, moving her head to hide in his chest.

     “Having a fun little dream?” Felix teased

     “Yes.”

     “Want some help?”

     “Please.”

     Y/n was happy she was just wearing panties and one of the boy’s t-shirts. Made it easier for him to move his sweatpants and boxers down and push her panties to the side. Lining his tip up with her entrance and slowly sank her down onto him. Y/n moaned as her walls stretched for him till he was fully inside of her.

     “Feel so good,” Y/n muttered into his chest.

     “Yeah? Think you just like having a cock in you princess,” Felix got back to work. Y/n held onto him tightly as she slowly started to grind herself against him.

     “Gonna use me to make yourself cum?” Felix asked, his baritone voice going straight to her core.

     “Please lix,” Y/n whined

     “Go ahead, princess. Just know I get to use you to cum later.”

♱ ━━━━━━ ⇤prev| m.list | next⇥

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© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

This. Plz. I need it. It screams PTSD and comfort piece

Bro??????? I didn't expect to see you in my inbox ghsggsg I love your blog <3

I had this in my drafts for almost a year but I FINALLY got motivated to finish it. So woe Springtrap angst/comfort be upon ye

........

By day, you worked at Fazbear's Fright as its "security guard" actor, making sure everybody got to experience the attraction safely and soundly.

It was far from the dream job you've been hoping for.

The pay sucked, small children were dragged through screaming and crying their little heads off, and some teenagers even made tasteless jokes about the tragedies that happened over 30 years ago.

It wasn't any better at night, as you were legitimately a guard who had to ensure nobody broke in and stole anything, all while working in hazardous conditions with only a slight pay raise as compensation.

You were all for "authenticity", but sometimes you considered filing a complaint with the health department....and then you remembered that this was the only job that was willing to hire you on the spot.

Bills didn't pay themselves, of course.

Like it or not, you had to work here.

However, it wasn't all that boring at night...and you actually preferred being here with nobody else around.

And no, not because your only worries are some faulty cameras, shitty ventilation, creepy phantoms of past animatronics invading your mind, and the possibility of a fire breaking out...

But because of something that your "dudebro" of a manager mentioned during your second nightshift.

"We found a real one. A live one."

Ever since then, you've seen him stalking the premises a few times.

It was Bonnie, but at the same time not Bonnie.

There was a person inside that animatronic, wearing it as a suit. And he seemed to be trapped within it, likely for years and left to decay as his bones, flesh, and even some vital organs were exposed by all the rips and tears.

At first you thought it was a cool little Halloween concept, convinced that 99% of the attraction's budget went into making such realistic gory details for a costume that showed the real-life consequences of the fabled "springlock failure".

You even jokingly told the actor inside he can come out and take a break as you were the only one here, promising you won't rat him out..

But you quickly realized he wasn't acting.

All he did was stare at the cameras and through the window. And as you observed him, you can tell he was limping, hearing his jagged breaths and pained moans echoing through the halls. Like a wounded animal begging to be put down.

The few times he did speak to you....it sounded like something was strangling him, crushing his vocal cords, making him choke out his words as though he had been chain smoking for the past 30 years.

But it wasn't any drug he was on.

He was literally a dead man walking.

You had doubts he was even a man anymore.

By all accounts, he shouldn't be alive..but he was.

Something in that suit was keeping him on life support, and it wasn't batteries or servos or electricity, but something entirely paranormal.

You felt bad for the poor guy, whoever he was. Nobody deserved this kind of torturous fate...except maybe criminal scum.

The only thing you did know was that somebody used that Springbonnie suit to commit those infamous murders back in the early 80s.

The victims were children.

Literal children who died in the place where they should have felt nothing but joy and safety.

You didn't wanna believe it could be....him.

It couldn't be, right?

He was probably just a random hapless employee who got into a tragic accident with the suit, unable to move or cry out for help. Nobody likely knew he was still inside when they sealed the walls.

No way could he be that evil man.

So when you didn't see him at all tonight, that's when you became concerned and decided to seek him out. Hopefully he didn't collapse somewhere unreachable.

You weren't sure what compelled you to look for him, but....you'd hate to sit in the office all night and deal with more ghosts.

Eventually, you did find him in one of the furthest rooms, clearly writhing and tormented by something unseen to you.

Maybe those phantoms haunted him, too?

It would definitely make you feel less alone and less crazy.

You stood near one of the arcade machines, cautious as you weren't sure what to say to him.

"Are you okay" sounded stupid, as this man was literally rotting inside a tomb he could not escape from. So he was very much not okay and would never be okay.

Not as long as he was in that suit, which has apparently become infused with his flesh.

Before you could think of anything to console him or even indicate your presence...his gray optics flickered to meet your human eyes, eyelids lowering as though he was trying to mimic squinting.

"M.....Michael...?" He rasped.

Your heart leapt into your throat, feeling it pounding as you wondered if he was expecting somebody else.

But he's seen you before, hasn't he?

It's always been you here.

"It's me, the guard you've been seeing a lot.." You began awkwardly. "This is the first time we've really met each other, and not through a window."

Now the man-animatronic seemed less tense, as though disappointed. "You should...stay away. This suit..still has its kinks...ahhhghh.." He groaned in pain, his fingers curling into his fists, every breath crushing his lungs more than the last. "Hurts...so bad....."

"What does?" Kneeling down, you still minded your distance but now your concern for him only grew further.

"Everything...like...it's....happening all over again. But why...? I'm dead....unless..I-I'm not..."

By this point, he seemed to be muttering to himself, unsure of whether the pain he was feeling was even real. Given what little of his human body you could see, it's incredible he could feel anything and still have thoughts. He shouldn't be able to even speak, and if so...it should only be through those broken prerecorded voicelines given to every animatronic way back then.

But no. He himself was talking--the man who somehow still had active nerves that could feel pain.

You felt bad for him. Life in prison or death penalty would've been more merciful than this hell he went through.

You felt like there was something you could do.

It might be the most insane idea, but you were willing to take your chances if it meant distracting him from the pain even a little bit.

"May I..help you feel something different?"

"..what..? What are you...." The rabbit-man seemed bewildered as you placed your smaller hands into his now open felt green palms, interlocking fingers without any hesitation on your part.

Despite your nose being clogged up with the stench of death, and your stomach churning in kind..you refused to let him go. "What do you feel now?"

"....only my greatest pain..like I was back in that saferoom..." He coughed, his longer ear folding over one eye. "Sometimes...I think....I can just take this off...before it happens again..and again....and again. But....I can't. Why did I do that? Was I scared? Why did it fail me then? Did I deserve it for...for....."

Then he fell silent, his head drooping, and for a moment or two you were worried he somehow shutdown or actually died this time.

But just as you were about to pull your hands free, he suddenly sprung back to life, a ragged gasp escaping him as his fingers curled around yours. It was tight, making you wince a bit, although it was worth seeing the look in his robotic eyes..

Which showed less anguish than before.

"I feel...you." He muttered, almost astonished as he looked down at your hands. "Your flesh. Something I haven't felt in years. Warm, small..easy to crush-"

Before he could say anything further, he felt like he was choking again, the small steel beams and screws piercing his lungs...suffering until he slowly died in a pool of his own blood.

Every now and then, that sensation came back again.

But this time, he felt something different.

Something old, yet new.

Something foreign, yet familiar.

it didn't hurt.

You tried not to look at the piece of his lung that was visible and somehow still functioning, inflating and deflating with every unsteady breath. Instead you kept looking into his eyes, assuring him you're here and you're real.

"It's okay. Keep holding onto me if it helps. I....don't think I ever caught your name," you muttered. "I doubt you wanna be called Springbonnie."

"I've...become more like a Springtrap, " he remarked with a low chuckle. "But....my name...it's...."

"It's what?"

".....what is my name? It's become...lost to me..."

"Oh. Well, I hope it comes back to you soon."

"Hm...perhaps..it will....thank you."

"Of course." You offered him a sympathetic smile.

Maybe this job didn't completely suck after all.

You got to make a friend and help that friend.

[passiberri]

My New Year's Resolutions for Simblr

Hi everyone! 🤍

First off, I just want to say how much this community means to me. You’re all so inspiring and creative, and being part of this community has brought me a lot of joy. And I hope the new year brings you all the happiness and love you deserve!

As we head into this new year, I’ve been reflecting on my little corner of Simblr and what I want to bring to it. So, here are my New Year’s resolutions for this blog:

🤍 Be more active, but focus on quality over quantity. I want to put more effort into my posts, so everything I share feels meaningful and I don't feel the need to doubt my posts or delete them afterwards! 🤍 Create more poses and content for the community. I want to give back to the community <3 🤍 Dive into more story-based posts. Sharing stories and watching yours unfold has always been one of my favorite parts of Simblr, so I’m excited to do more of that myself! 🤍 Finally finish (or at least continue) my save file project. It’s been sitting there, waiting for attention, and this is the year I’m going to make progress!! 🤍 Be more consistent overall. Whether it’s posting regularly or engaging with all of you amazing simmers, I want to stay connected and show my love for you all!

Here’s to a fresh start and making 2025 an amazing year for our community! Thank you for all the support and love you’ve shown me, Let’s make this year full of sims, stories, and creativity! 🥂🥂🥂

Wishing you all the best, Love, Passie

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

HIHIHIIHI!!! i luv luv LUVVVV your writing!! you're one of my favorite writers on this app fidhuhgseuhsdfsifj ><

may i request some fluff (or smut; whichever you prefer!) with leon wherein the reader is an artist, and she has this lil notebook filled to the brim with sketches (whether that be normal sketches or... spicy ones) of leon but she hasn't shown leon the notebook BUT he ends up finding it and teasing her??

AND (if you DO write it as smut) WHAT IF READER DREW SOME SKETCHES OF SEX POSITIONS AND LEON USES THOSE POSITIONS WHE THEY HAVE SEX!?!??!?!?!? I'M GOING CRAZY OVER THIS THOUGHT RN DJFHSIDFUHIU

keep up the good work with all the writing you do!! you're an amazing writer, and i hope you have a great day :>

Hello my angels!! Thank you guys again for 400 followers im forever grateful for you guys. i was so fond of this little plot i HAD to write but it’s def not my best. Happy monday <3

DISCLAIMER: This is an 18+ blog! If you are underaged or don’t have an age indicator in your bio, please don’t interact!

AFAB Artistic reader x Pre Re4 Leon

Warnings: Leon’s a little tease. Mentions of ripping clothing, couch sex, Leon’s pretty soft in this :)

Word count: 3,050

Meeting Leon was just a lucky coincidence, almost four years ago now. The worst job you swore you’d ever had, but that changed once you met Leon. Instead of typing the files in the computer, your foot tapped against the marble flooring.

“That’s really good.. Do you draw often?”

You slammed your notebook shut, scared your boss had caught you again. Your eyes glanced up to the man peering over the desk, a tight gray t-shirt on and a pair of cargo pants.

“So sorry, sir. Are you here for training?”

Your fingers pressed against the keys of your desktop as you stared up at him, waiting for an answer. He looked like his ego had been beaten down when you didn’t reply to him, nodding his head at you.

“Yeah, um, Kennedy, Leon.”

You wrote his name down on the paper, handing him the small slip with a grin.

———-

She was new, I think. Her hair was pulled into that pretty bun, dazed as ever. Pretty pencil skirt and an off-white long sleeve. Beautiful handwriting, too, Leon’s thumb brushing over the slip in his hand, pulling out his wallet to shove the slip inside.

The next day he hoped you’d be sitting there, looking bored out of your mind. His arm pushed against the heavy glass door; he couldn’t help but smile seeing you at your desk. Why is he smiling?

“Busy day?”

Leon couldn't help but smile as you jumped in your seat, slamming the notebook shut- again. Your little smile tugged at your glossed lips as you held at the pen, scribbling his name.

“Goodbye, Leon.”

Your teasing voice made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. He grabbed the red slip in your hand, dragging the bag off your desk as he walked down the hall again.

——————

For days, even weeks after. Leon would always ensure he showed up early, fascinated by your presence and the way you scribbled his name on the notepad on your desk when he would say something to make you blush.

“Hey, so… remember that sushi restaurant I told you about?”

Leon’s first words as he walks up to the desk, placing his bag on your file as you roll your eyes, nodding up at him as you type something into the computer.

“What about it?”

You ask as you push your rolling chair back, waiting by the printer as it turns on. Your head leans back as you look at him. He looked handsome as ever today. His training was working, that’s for sure, his shoulders being so much broader and his arms becoming so defined with muscle.

“Well, today is my last day of training. Did you want to go out with me as a celebration?”

It wasn’t for celebration; Leon just finally had an excuse to ask you out. Spending almost three months talking to you and getting to know you, yet he has never asked you to dinner. Your face lit up as you rolled back to the computer, stapling the papers together and using it as an excuse to cover the bright red that invaded your cheeks.

“Sure- what time?”

You asked up to him, clearing your throat as your hand rubbed your cheek to make it seem like you weren’t blushing. Cute, Leon thought as his tongue brushed over his bottom lip.

“Seven? I can pick you up.”

Even offering to pick you up? Your heart was in your throat as you nodded shyly, smiling as you wrote your address on a sticky note and handed it to him.

“I’ll be ready.”

You handed him his pass along with the sticky note of your address, his eyes reading over the number over and over before he smiled at you, tapping your desk a few times and walking down the hall as he does every single day.

———-

Why so shaky? The knocking on your door echoed through your living room, your hands brushing through your hair again as you did a small circle in your mirror.

You thanked god you wore heels, quickly glancing through the peephole to see Leon. He made your heart jump just by standing there. You swore he looked you up and down when you opened the door- but this was one-sided. You were so in love with him. Your coworkers make fun of you when you’re on your break, eyes following him from the expansive open training rooms.

Obsession was a strong word- but even you could admit it was getting to the point of obsession. You hoped after he left the facility, you wouldn’t have to see him again, especially since it was his last day, but he just had to ask you to dinner, didn’t he?

“Are you ready?”

Leon asked as he looked around your apartment, scanning all the books on your shelf. You wanted to say yes, but your hand reached up, your eyebrows frowning as you noticed you weren’t wearing the necklace your brother had gotten you.

“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be back.”

He couldn’t help but watch you walk down your hallway, fingers tapping at your sides like at work. Snoopy, maybe. His eyes darted down to the notebook on your coffee table. It’s the one you always have on your desk. Light purple with random stickers all over the front and back. His fingers traced over where your name was carved before he looked down to the hall to check if he was clear to look through it. The first few pages are drawings of the statues at work, the plants, yourself, and your glossy lips. His eyebrows frowned at the empty pages, going on for almost five before he finally saw it. His name was written in your pretty cursive; below was the soft sketch of his face, his handsome smile, and the small indent in his chin. Sketch after sketch of him leaning over your desk with the cheekiest smile.

The next page sketches his lips, his tongue darting out slightly through the corner in one and pressed together in another. Sketches of the way his eyes sparkle next to them.

His slender fingers traced the page looking at the sketches of his arms, some with his knife in his hand, some just holding a water bottle. He peeped his head down the corner of the hallway again, hearing the echo of your voice on the phone. His fingers moved before his eyes as he flipped the page, his cheeks flushing a deep red at the sketches of his hands rubbing up your waist. Now he was paying attention, graphics of his fingers in your mouth, your legs thrown over his shoulders, his head thrown back, and his Adam’s apple more than prominent.

“Leon?”

You stuttered, your heart pounding against your chest. Your breath feels so caught in your throat, your eyes staring at his hands holding the spine of your notebook. You blink into reality, snatching the notebook from him as you firmly have it against your chest.

“Why.. would you go through my things..”

You laughed, embarrassed, as Leon stared at you. His presence was now super overwhelming. He just.. stared at you. Great, now he hates me? He thinks I’m so weird…

“Why’d you just leave it out?”

What? Jesus fucking Christ, what?

“It’s my apartment; what do you mean..”

You laugh bitterly as you push the notebook onto your shelf, your hands slightly shaking.

“I didn’t draw any of that. I left it at work for a few days, so maybe it was stolen or something.”

There we go. Perfect excuse. Leon’s feet shuffled till he was standing beside you, pulling the notebook off the shelf next to you.

“Alright, that’s understandable. If they aren’t yours, you wouldn’t mind me looking through them again.”

Your face flooded with embarrassment. Your back turned to him as your eyes squeezed shut at the sound of him flipping through the pages.

Leon felt his pants grow tighter at the sketch of your pretty folds wrapped around his cock, then the illustrations of just your pussy made his cock grow painfully harder, your eyes shifting between the notebook and the bookshelf. There were pages after pages of just Leon and you, sometimes just Leon, small notes here and there. The last page is a sketch of the two of you hugging and a small note

“Seven, Leon’s sushi place”

Leon, yet again, closed the notebook, laying it on the shelf as you held your arms, sighing at his silence. His hand rubbed your arm softly, taking your hand in his. He rocked behind you, resting his cheek on the side of your head.

“Cmon’ let’s go eat.”

———-

The drive back to your apartment was so silent. Your head spun as you looked out the window, admiring the pretty night sky. Leon’s handheld at your thigh, his thumb rubbing small circles on your smooth skin. Biting at your nails nervously, your head turns to Leon. Why did he have to be so handsome? Hand gripping the steering wheel, hair perfectly rested against his cheek. The white button-down he wore fit him so perfectly. He believed you, right? You felt guilt in your heart, thinking about how you sat at your desk, legs crossed so close together at the thought of Leon fucking you stupid. It’s not everyday you meet a man like him. You craved him, but you would never tell him that. Leon’s car stopped, your daydreaming stopping as he pulled his keys and shoved them in his pocket. What a gentleman, he opens your door for you, holding his hand out. Your hand grabbed at his as you stepped out, holding your purse to your side as you whispered a small thank you to him as you reached for your keys.

The two of you stopped in front of your door, your heart starting to ache at the thought of never seeing him at work again, all the conversations you guys have had. The silence was uncomfortable now; you looked up at Leon with a slight frown before you reached up and brought him in for a tight hug, a sigh of relief leaving your lips as he hugged you back.

“I’m going to miss seeing you every day.”

You laugh into his shoulder. He laughs back in response as he pulls away from the hug, your hand reaching to unlock your door as he watches you. You step inside your dark apartment, looking at him from the door with a gentle smile still on your face.

“I’ll call you, I promise.”

Leon speaks as he watches you stand against the door frame.

“Bye.”

“Bye, Leon.”

The door slams. Why are you going to cry? Is it because he thought you were a massive creep? You held onto the wall as you kicked off your heels, sighing in frustration as you threw your purse to the ground. Your body jumped at the pounding at the door. Though you were taught better, you swung it open. Leon stood his hands on his hips, staring at the ground.

“Le-“

Leon pushed his way into your apartment, his perfect hands cradling your face as he smashed his lips into yours. Your feet struggled to keep up with him moving you back into your living room. Where did this come from? His hands hungrily gripped at your hips, your thighs hitting the arm of your couch. Leon's head dipped down your neck, pressing his tongue to the softness of your skin.

“Leon, wait..”

Your eyes flutter open as you reach down, grabbing his face. Leon stared up at you, his breathing labored.

“What happened?”

Your thumb rubbed across his cheek as he stood, pulling you in closer to him.

“You think I don’t want you? Do you know how hard it was not to bend you over this couch after flipping through that notebook?”

He grumbled as he turned you around, pressing his palm up your back as he bent you against the arm of your sofa. Your back arched in response as you looked back at him with red cheeks.

“Every word I've ever said to you makes you blush like that, you know.”

He’s right. But it’s hard not to blush when he compliments your every detail. Leon’s fingers dragged the zipper down your back, his lips following. So much softer than you had imagined. He stood again, tugging at your sleeves, smiling at your bare back. You gasped as you heard a slight tearing, your head flying back to see Leon had ripped your dress. Leon chuckled as the fabric of your dress dropped to the ground, his hands brushing over your hips.

“I’ve always loved watching you grab papers, your hips swaying.”

Leon smirks against your shoulder, his lips pressing against your neck again, your breathing shaky as he sucks at your skin. His pretty lips leave red patches all over your skin that will later be small purple markings that’ll be so prominent. Leon lifts himself, grabbing you to lie on your sofa, smiling down at you as his fingers work at unbuttoning his shirt.

It all felt like a dream, Leon’s shirt dropping to your floor as he tugged his dress pants down his legs. Hypnotized by him, the way his arms flex when he comes to hover over you, his hands holding at your thighs as he drags you further down the couch, his lips pressing against yours again. Leon’s lips ghosted over your skin as he stared at you through hooded eyes. Your eyes roll slightly when his fingers press over your clothed clit, rubbing small circles into you as he licks over your chest, leaving his marks on you there too. Your hips buck into his hand, a laugh coming from his lips as he pulls back, staring down at you as he pushes your panties aside, his fingers slipping into you with ease. Your mouth hangs open slightly as you stare at him.

“So wet.. all for me?”

Leon’s voice was so husky, so different than it usually was; you couldn’t help but let out a moan as his fingers dragged over your walls, your body lifting onto your shoulder as you looked down, your hips tilting up slightly to watch his fingers push in and out of you. The feeling was intoxicating, your head throwing back as he used his other hand to rub at your clit.

“You like watching? Watching how greedy this little pussy is..”

Leon couldn’t help but moan himself as you tightened around his fingers, his eyes staring down at you, sucking in his fingers. He groans as he tugs his boxers down, a whine leaving your lips at the feeling of his fingers no longer filling you. His hands grab at the back of your knees, holding them with one of his larger hands as his other hand grabs ahold of his cock, which was painfully hard. His lips parted slightly as he pressed himself into you, his grip around your leg tightening at the feeling of you squeezing him. He was so thick, so much bigger than what you could handle, a whimper leaving your lips as he pushed himself into you more. His hand drops your legs resting against his waist as he leans over you, grabbing at your jaw to pull you into a sloppy kiss, his tongue pressing into your bottom lip as he fully bottoms himself into you, causing you to gasp into his mouth. Leon let out a soft whimper as he leaned up, holding at your thighs as he rocked into you. You looked so beautiful finally lying below him; he had waited for this too fucking long.

“You look so fucking beautiful taking me like this..”

Leon groans down at you as your hands reach for his shoulders, pulling him back down to press his chest against yours as his speed increases. His face comforts your shoulder as your hands grab at his back, your nails scraping at his back as he lifts your hips, the new angle making him hit that perfect spot.

“I- Leon!”

Leon nodded his head as he looked down at you, forehead glistening with his sweat and his hair sticking to his skin.

“I know, baby, I know.”

He knew because you were gripping him so tightly, he was fighting his hardest not to let himself go inside of you, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he watched you squirm beneath him, warmth flooding your stomach and your breaths increasing as he pushed his palm into your stomach. Random babbles leave your lips as your arm comes up, covering your face as you cum around him, your walls fluttering against him, causing a loud groan to escape his lips as he pulls himself out of you, moving your hand from your stomach as his cum splatters all over your soft skin.

You two stare at each other, catching your breath. His arms reach forward, moving your arm from your flushed face.

“There you are.”

He mumbles as he kisses you softly, standing up and reaching down to pull up his boxers. He’s gone for almost two minutes, yet you’re still lying on the couch, eyes studying the ceiling.

“You organize your laundry room weirdly.”

Leon’s voice makes you tilt your head, watching him walk back into the living room. He leans over, wiping your stomach with the small rag in his hand, your lips tugging into a smile as you reach forward, touching his face. He peers down at you, smiling back as he helps you sit up, his fingers pushing your hair behind your shoulders.

“You want a shower?”

He asks softly as he sits beside you and wraps his arm around you as you lean your head against his shoulder.

“I just want to be with you.”

You mumble, your eyes closing as you wrap your arms around his waist.

“I’m not leaving anytime soon; I think you’re stuck with me.”

Leon speaks as he lifts your chin, kissing your forehead softly before he stands up, lifting you over his shoulder, causing a loud squeal to leave your lips as he taps the skin of your thighs with a smile.

“Let’s shower. Then you can show me more drawings, yeah?”

[mehbzz]

Check Up

I'm tagging @angrelysimpping @angrelysimpping because i'm pretty sure the whole drug AU and Whit/Harper/Wren are brothers idea started on their blog. I've had this sitting in my wips for ages, and need to get rid of it! Not perfect and not proof read, no real ending either.

M!Whitney x M!Wren x F!Reader M!Harper x F!Reader

A PWP check in with your brothers.

18+ INCEST, Dub con, hint of medical kink, a little age play

“Dr. Harper is ready for you honey.”

Your head perks up, the words pulling you out from your half-asleep daze. You’d been waiting for nearly an hour, no doubt mostly as punishment for avoiding him for the past 2 weeks.

“Thank you.” You follow the smiling nurse down the long, twisting hallway into an exam room that you’re pretty sure is farther away than last time. 

“No parent with you?” She looks at you with a sympathetic smile. She must be new, you think, makes you wonder if she actually knows who you are.

“My brother is outside,” You gesture backwards pointlessly, she’s not looking at you, her interest in you gone as she eyes her watch. “He doesn’t like hospitals.”

“Not many people do honey. Doctor will be with you shortly.”

You nod at the dismissal but she doesn’t look at you again, and your smile fades when she closes the door behind her. The butterflies in your stomach multiplying as you stand in the middle of the room. Harper’s desk is cluttered as usual, and there’s a small framed photo of you that you look away from quickly once you register exactly what it’s a photo of. The exam table sits just to the side of his desk, your heart being to race as you take note of the fresh lining on it, the way the stirrups seem to taunt you.

“Hello angel,” Harper clears his throat, and you look up, startled. You hadn’t heard him come in and feel a little shaken to see him nonchalantly standing there with a medical gown in his arms. “Put this on for me and we can begin.”

 “I thought this was a therapy session?” You’re being defensive already, forgetting your promise to Wren that you’d behave, that you wouldn’t give Harper even the tiniest of reasons to have you stay.

He’s smiling at you, a patronising soft smile. The kind that makes you feel like you’re 10 years old again. It makes you want to stamp your foot and tell him no. 

“You have missed two of our scheduled appointments; I feel it would be in your best interest to have a full physical.”  He leaves no room for argument, and you know you shouldn’t but you try anyway.

 “I don’t think-,”

“Wre-, your guardian, signed the permission slip so what you think doesn’t really matter right now.” He cuts you off, the way he adjusts his glasses was always a tell tale sign of his irritation so you bite your tongue despite the sting of betrayal. You know that there’s no point in protesting. The quicker you submit the quicker you’ll be out of here. He holds out his arm, the gown folded neatly in his hand. “There’s no need to tie it up.”

You take the gown and pause, but he doesn’t turn away. You nod meekly refusing to meet his eye as you strip down to your underwear, pulling on the gown as quick as you can. screwing your clothes into a ball and dropping  them onto the chair in front of his desk.

He tuts at you, reaching out to pick them up and fold them for you, a gesture that has some half formed memory tugging at the back of your mind.

“Underwear too. Then sit on the bed for me.”

He does look away this time, picking up what you presume is your medical file. He reads over it as you sit awkwardly on the edge of the exam table, humming and nodding before looking up at you. “It’s been brought to my attention that you’ve been suffering from mood swings? Have you been-,”

“I’ve been taking the pills.” It’s hard not to let your frustration show, but your medication was always the first thing he asked you about.

His eyes narrow at your interruption.

“Pills I have prescribed you or pills your guardian has been giving you?”

You shrug, a little annoyed with his reluctance to call Wren by his name. Wren had been giving you pills every morning, from the bottle Harper had prescribed you on your last visit, but you guess you couldn’t really be sure.

“I’d prefer if you answered verbally angel, I’m not a mind reader.” Harper raked his gaze over you slowly. “Have you lost weight?”

You shake your head but stop when you see the irritated twitch of his brow. “I don’t think so.”

He nods, pulling a stethoscope from the first drawer in his desk. He motions for you to sit up straight as he opens the back of your gown wider, and you reluctantly do so, flinching slightly when the cold metal pressed against your back. “Are you not happy to see me? I’ve missed you.”

“I-, I am, I missed you too.” It doesn’t sound very sincere, but you hope he knows you mean it. You have missed him, but being with Harper was unlike being with Wren or Whitney, there was always an undercurrent of something that made you uncomfortable in his presence.

“How’s school? Keep still please, you’re squirming.” He moved the stethoscope lower, one hand dropping to rest on your hip and sliding under the side of your gown to press against your stomach to keep you still, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast. “Breathe in.”

You drew a deep breath, conscious of the way his thumb pressed a little firmer into your breast at the movement. “Are you having trouble focusing? I asked how school is.”

“It’s fine.”

“I can’t help you if you lie to me,” He dropped the stethoscope back onto his desk as he moves back in front of you. “I’ve heard you’ve been skipping classes, swimming in particular.”

“Not really skipping, just once or twice maybe.”

“Why is that? Not self conscious I hope,” He lets his gaze sweep over you again. “you may have lost some weight but you still have a beautiful figure.”

There’s a pause, like he’s expecting you to reply but when you don’t he sighs. “How many alcoholic drinks do you have in a week?”

“One maybe two.”

“Are you smoking?”

“No.”

“No?” He clearly doesn’t believe you and you’re not surprised, both Wren and Whitney were heavy smokers.

“Open up,” He says and you do, as he shines a light into your mouth, cupping the side of your throat with one hand. “Hmmm, you have some bruising in here, does it hurt?”

“A little.” You flinch, feeling your face heating in embarrassment as he moves away to write something on his clipboard.

“Whitney I presume? He always was the careless one.” He looks at you and you drop your gaze. Refusing to meet his eye as he continues looking you over with touches and pokes that you’re sure were not in any way telling him anything useful about your physical health.

“Harper -,” You blurt his name before you can stop yourself and he stops a rather painful exploration of a bruise on your collarbone to look up at you seemingly surprised. “I-,”

He says your name softly as he turns back to his cabinet. “Relax angel, I’m nearly done.”

You don’t say anything, it’s pointless but not for the first time in these visits you eye the door, wondering if you could make a run for it. Would Wren take you home or escort you back into Harper’s office? You were never sure and not yet been brave enough to find out.

"hmmm," He clicks his tongue. “Mood swings.” He whispers it half under his breath. “Perhaps you should stay a few days, maybe some hypnotherapy to help you cope with some of this stress you’re evidently under.”

“What? No.”  Wren promised. Wren promised you wouldn’t have to stay.

“I’m only trying to help you.”

“I’m not, I just don’t think I need to stay, there’s no need,-,” You draw in a quick breath, you’re babbling but you can’t stay. You can’t.

“Breathe angel.” He rests a hand on your knee. “I just want to help you. Despite what the rest of our little family seem to think I want.” You shake your head and his hand moves a little higher. “Can you use your words for me? Are they looking after you?” His tone has shifted in to that condescending baby voice he likes to use, the one that has hazy memories of your childhood bedroom springing to the front of your mind along with a fluttery feeling in the pit of your stomach. “Do you want to stay? I will take care of you.”

“No,” You feel sick, the sharp sour tang of bile at the back of your throat. “Thank you. They-,” You frown at yourself. “I can take care of myself.”

His thumb strokes your skin. “Always so quick to grow up. Do you remember-,” He blinks stopping himself with a small smile.  “Do you remember how you got this?” He traced the faint scar over your knee, a look of adoration across his face. You swallow hard, trying not to flinch away from him as you waited for his hands to inevitably wander. “Perhaps we should revisit some of your childhood treatments? They were always effective in relieving you of your… moods.”

His nail presses into the scar, then slides up your thigh. You part your legs automatically and he murmurs praise as his hand slides up under the hem of the gown to disappear between your legs.

“Even after all these years you still have such a wonderful reaction to my touch,” He was losing his Doctor persona quicker than normal, perhaps your prolonged absence

had affected him more than you thought. “Your breathing becomes shallow, your pupils dilate,” He raises a hand, trailing one finger down your neck to pull the front of your gown until it slid down your shoulders, his gaze dropping to your chest. “and you flush beautifully.”

His fingertips brushed your slit, and you knew he could feel how wet you were. “This was always my favourite reaction of course.”

You sighed as his fingers stroked you, feather-light touches stroking up until they circled your clit, he was always so gentle with you.

“Tell me you want me,” he whispers, his eyes boring into you.

“I do,” It’s an unsure half whisper, you don’t know if you do or not, it’s apart of your life, always has been. “Harper.”

“Say it Angel,” he urges. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” You start, lump forming in your throat as you hold his gaze.

“Do you love me?” he whispers.

“Yes.”

he circles idle fingers across your slit before just barely pushing in, thumb sliding across your clit. It's almost too much, the way his fingers crook and bend, slow and purposeful as you moan.

“Who fucked you this morning?” His voice, strained and breathless along with his question had you tensing, his whole body shuddering as you inadvertently tightened around his fingers.

“Was is Whitney? He always was so impatient to be inside you. Is that why you’re so sensitive? Did he leave you wanting?” Harper didn’t slow, forcing his fingers to curl against your tightening walls. “I do miss him. Perhaps I should schedule a family session? You two were always my favourite patients.”

You could do little more than whine as he curled his fingers more and shifted his thumb to press harder against your clit.  

“You’re doing so well, sweet thing. A little more now,” Harper was panting, soft little grunts escaping him and his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in, cheek resting against yours. “You can cum, Angel.”

You shook your head, a weak denial as you cried out, your hands curling into the paper mat and tearing it into shreds.  Your orgasm roll a slow roll of pleasure that has your toes curling and your eyes squeezing shut. He keeps moving his fingers, peppering soft kisses over your cheekbone and forehead, only stopping when tears start to prick at your eyes, fingers slipping wetly out of your cunt.

“Look at me.”

You tried to pull yourself together, swallowing thickly and fighting back tears as your thighs trembled beneath his touch.

“Look at me Angel, please.” His voice was gentle as you opened your eyes slowly, squinting a little against the bright light as you took in the flush on his cheeks and the smile on his lips.

 “Good girl,” His hand is still stroking up and down your leg, the gesture grounding and soothing in one. “Do you need a moment?”

You nod, and he sits, pulling you gently forward and giving you no choice but to awkwardly slide off the bed and into his lap.

“You can take as long as you need,” his hand runs through your hair and you can’t help but melt into him. “You’re safe here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” He pauses and you feel guilty at the hurt in his voice. It makes you curl a little more into his side. “It’s not your fault. I know the things they say about me.”

The apology slips from your lips again and he just hums softly in response. You feel fuzzy, warm, as his nails scratch over your scalp gently.

“You’ll come see me next week wont you?”

You nod, too lulled and calmed by his affection to really register what you’re agreeing too.

---------------------------------------------------------

Arriving home had been an immediate adrenaline shock to your relaxed sedate mood. Not even two steps in the door before Wren had tugged you into a frantic kiss, and only as far as the kitchen before he was tugging at your clothes.

Your lips tremble, parting ever so slightly as your body involuntarily arches toward Wren. He pushes you further back against the table, forcing you to prop yourself up on your elbows as his fingers trace a path up your thigh, a soft whine escaping you as he finally dips between your legs, almost mirroring Harper’s previous touch.

 “You were a good girl for Harper then?”

The question was punctuated with the heel of his palm pressing into your clit as two fingers pushed into your soaked cunt, going still when he was knuckle deep. “You were in there for ages.”

“It wasn’t,” you whine, frustrated at his lack of movement.”I-, please move.”

Whitney tsks. The noise startling you, You’d forgotten he was sitting there. “Lazy little slut aren’t you?” Whitney cups the side of your face, making sure you face him.

You opened your mouth reflexively, ready to tell him that you were sorry, but his thumb slipped past your lips before you could make a sound, pressing against the flat of your tongue. He pushes until you gag, pulling back with a grin.

Wren takes pity on you, free hand moving to his belt, and you watch as he pulls himself out. You feel exposed, vulnerable. The only one naked, spread wide on the the kitchen room table.

Wren slides his cock back and forth against you, coating himself with your arousal. Your hips buck impatiently, seeking more friction.

"Look at you, so desperate for my cock. Were you desperate for Harper’s too?”

 Whitney huffs, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed and Wren’s smirk grows. “Cute when he’s jealous isn’t he?”

“Fuck you.”

“Later.” Wren winks at him as he pushes into you and you let out a cry as you take in his length. His immediate pace catches you off guard, fingers scrambling at the edge of the table as he moves, your breath caught in your throat. The fabric of his jeans irritates the inside of your thighs, his belt buckle hitting you with every thrust, and although it feels good you know this is about them reclaiming you, not your pleasure.

Whitney seemingly grown bored of waiting, slots a hand into your hair and tugging you round enough to press his lips against yours. 

“Slut.” He mutters as he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his. 

 He presses a hand to Wren’s shoulder and he stills.

Whitney waits until you stop squirming, one hand slipping down between you and Wren to press against your clit.

He waits, and you swallow your pride. “Please.”

Whitney’s fingers move to your surprise. He keeps one hand against Wren’s shoulder, fingers playing idly with the ends of his hair as the other dances across your clit, fingers moving in slow, lazy circles. One more breathy gasp for forgiveness has Whitney seemingly have mercy on you, pushing his fingers harder against you as he presses his lips roughly to Wren’s. The kiss draws a surprised moan from your older brother, and he starts to rock his hips into you again, his movements jerky and erratic, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs and then suddenly he stills and you’re surprised by a stream of heat filling you as Wren finishes, thick ropes of himself lining your walls. 

You try not to fidget, to behave as they finally break their kiss. Mumbling something to each other as Wren pulls out and Whitney takes his place, his hands on your thighs to keep you spread open. 

 He kisses your stomach before moving over to your thighs. He nips at your skin and you brace yourself for him to bite you harder, like he usually does, but he doesn’t, his lips pressing gently against your cunt instead. His tongue laps at you, dipping inside you with a low moan and your eyelids flutter as you look down at him, only dimly aware of the way Wren moves, positioning himself behind Whitney. He caught your eye as his arms snaked around Whitney’s waist. There was the distant, muffled sound of fabric rustling, and then Whitney jerks and hisses but he doesn’t stop. His fingers spreading your folds apart as he sucks on your clit.

You can’t see it, but you can imagine it, you’ve seen it enough times. Wren’s soft, slim fingers wrapping around the head of Whitney’s cock, stroking him. The way Wren’s thumb swirls over the head, cock leaking and throbbing as he starts a steady rhythm.

Wren refuses to break eye contact with you as he strokes him, the image and the feel of Whitney’s lapping at your clit has the tension building again, the heat coiling deep in your core.

You're not going to last long. You can feel Whitney’s breath hitch as Wren leans in closer to press a soft sucking kiss to his jaw. Then another pressed just under his ear. Whitney shudders, an awkward jolt of his hips and Wren sighs. “Good boy.”

Whitney moans against your cunt and the vibration is enough to push you over the edge too and you come undone with a strangled cry. He pushes away from you before you want him to and slumps down into the chair, pants still undone and his cock half hard against his denim clad thigh.

You’re trembling, thighs shaking as Wren helps you sit upright,  one hand resting on your waist to hold you steady on the edge of the table as two fingers are held up to your mouth and you accept them without hesitation.

[jacks-little-jacky]

Heyheyhey!! Anon here again! Do you mind writing a scenario in which Jack’s crush absolutely adores adopting children (I’m not talking about one or two, I’m talking about an ’army’ of them, like, 6/7) ?

Like, those kids are incredibly fond of him to the point that in the future they accidentally call him ’dad’? (maybe you can end it with some smut, with Jack offering them another sibling 👀) (IM SO SORRY, THIS HAS BEEN ON MY MIND FOR SO LONG AND I’VE BEEN MEANING TO ASK FOR A LONG TIME, BUT IVE NEVER MET ANOTHER JACK SIMP BEFORE— I HOPE I CAN REQUEST AGAIN SOON, I ADORE YOUR WRITING!!❤️❤️❤️)

The Littlest Army | Jack x Reader

Okay so I ADORE Dilf! Jack. Sorry that this took so long but I'm getting back into this blog and I hope the quality is to your taste. Bon appetit.

Warnings: inappropriate use of children (Jack throws them), NSFW Under The Cut! Everything above is pretty SFW, breeding kink/unprotected yee-hawing, mention of pregnancy, I tried something new so idk

Jack has never seen this coming.

Never, in all of his 28 years of living has he seen himself as a father figure. Sure, leading a Squad that accepted 15-year-olds sometimes made him somewhat of a caregiver. More or less.

He didn't see himself as the domestic type. He could handle the young recruits, they were his subordinates after all. Of course, they were teenagers, but there still was this distance. Professionalism, as little as Jack would bring it with him at least.

Jack wasn't one to settle down, have children and drink tea in his little cottage by a lake. No, that wasn't him. Or so he thought.

Until he met you.

A pretty thing, how couldn't he notice you? Always smiling, waving at the Magic Knight with the two little bundles next to her knees.

He never meant for this to happen.

But the preparations for the Royal Knights Exam came up and everbody was oh so busy. So busy that the Captains would come from their high horses and take over the boring patrols and mediocore missions so their knights would have further time to train.

And Jack always was a working bee, anything that was preventing him from sitting hours in his office going through reports and filing documents about broken equipment and whatnot was good to him.

Really, with the way he was patrolling almost each day the cities around his base location he shouldn't be suprised he picked up on people there. He wasn't unobservant, he just didn't care most of the time.

But after almost two weeks he knew the names of the baker and the lady who spilled coffee in a rush on him. He knew the names of some children he saw running around, learning them from their mothers yelling after them. The names of some of the nuns taking care of the orphans too.

And of course, you. Sweet, temptating, captivating you.

Always running around, helping the nuns. Always running around, bumping into him. Always running around, never leaving his mind.

It was unfair. A sick kind of joke the universe played on him. But how was he supposed to resist? Resist you and your kind smile, your little giggle, and the way you'd bat your eyelashes at him. The way you silently pleaded for him to take the cookies the kids made for him.

And he did, lowering on his knees slowly while staring into your eyes. His golden eyes only leaving your captivating eyes when his knees hit the ground and he redirected his gaze to the actual kids around him.

They were loud, tugging at his robe and shoving the cookies almost into his face. He cracked a little smile, before giving in and laughing. Ruffling their hair and taking cookies, biting a chunk off and praising how good they were.

Asking if they had any help. Which of course, he knew they had. His eyes darted to you when they started laughing, telling him about how you helped with the baking but they did all the decorating themselves! Such proud little bundles of joy, cheering your name.

It made something in his stomach churn.

The way your proud eyes sparkled, the way your plump lips spread into this stupid smile that had his heart aching. How you watched over them, even with him near.

At first, he didn't think he'd ever have a chance. With how much you helped the orphanage, Jack's working theory had been that you were in training maybe. Although you didn't wear the robes, the way you'd almost always be there when he passed on his patrol and the way the children often referred to you as a big sister or mother figure was evidence for itself.

He often wondered, about the two bundles that would always be around you. If those children were just especially attached to you, or if they even were your own in a way.

And of course, you two got talking. After all the kids were amazed to not only see a Magic Knight but a Captain regularly patroling their place! And you were just making sure, that he wasn't a danger to them, or that they didn't bother him too much.

Just making sure. Definitely not being interested in the tall commoner yourself. No, that would be ridiculous.

It didn't take long for Jack to figure out that you were not really one of the sisters who worked at the orphanage. But your two adoptive kids were close friends with some of the kids there. So they'd get to see their friends and hang out and you did your part in the community. You just liked kids, helping them and being around them.

Something Jack, oddly enough, has come to appreciate more and more with every visit he paid you guys.

He soon found out that you didn't only have two kids, but four. A ridiculous amount if you ask him, not that you do but he tells you that anyway.

Oddly enough, with his attitude, you would've thought he'd start backing off. The subtle flirtatious, the little touches that lingered a bit too long. A single mother wasn't held in the highest regard in the Clover Kingdom. You didn't care, of course, you chose to take in these kids and were planning for more.

But Jack did not back off. In fact, he slowly started seeing why you liked these brats so much. Even if it was just because they never failed to make you smile in a way that nothing else could at first. Still, he worked himself up with these children. From the little awkward encounters at first, he worked his relationship with these kids up to ruffling their hair and occasionally carrying them, throwing them up, and catching them. You had to reprimand him multiple times that it was dangerous. What if a little one slipped from his hands and got hurt?

It didn't stop it though, even if he wanted to listen he couldn't with the way he got begged by some of these brats. The little ones loved sitting on the shoulders of the tall man, he just... wasn't refusing it. And of course, you did not miss the way his eyes hushed to catch yours each time, silently seeking approval.

Neither of you could really grasp it.

Jack felt a pull towards you and he couldn't resist it. And although you denied it, you could feel it too. The way your eyes would meet although you weren't even talking with each other, the way you'd know when he'd come by each day. How he'd make the kids laugh and amaze them, acting, unlike his brash and brutal reputation with the little ones in your care. The way his tongue would brush against his lips whenever he heard your little laugh.

You were irresistible to him. And so was he. It was like there was an invisible string connecting you two. It wasn't visible, hell it wasn't reasonable, but there was this clear pull toward each other and you could only try to resist for so long.

So long. Until it snapped.

Lips crashed into yours, you weren't even sure how or why it was happening but you found yourself in the arms of one of the most powerful men of the Clover kingdom.

The children's laughs and yells from playing some game faded into the background as your fingers dug into the fabric of his robe. His big hand was caressing your cheek and fingers tangling into your hair. A gasp crawled out your throat at the sensation of his teeth nibbing onto your lower lip.

It was warm. So warm.

Your breath was heavy after your lips separated, feeling like he had just kissed the air right out of you. A smile spread onto his lips, that wide, proud smile that just promised trouble.

"I figured...", his raspy voice spoke up. His face was still so very close to yours that you could feel his warm breath hitting your lips. "What?", you asked. The smile creeping on your face couldn't be more obvious. "Figured you might... need... some help with your kids?" Jack suggested in a hushed voice.

"I'm quite alright with them.", you stated amused. Jack's teeth bit down onto his lower lip ever so slightly, a gesture you probably would've missed if not for the close proximity. "But... I might need help when I get the next ones....", You whispered.

Jack's eyes visibly lightened up, the golden pool of honey gazing down at you. "Even more?" He asked, voice quiet with disbelief. "Of course. I still have plently room in my heart. And at home. I want a big family, so beware...", you whispered.

Your heart was pleading he'd be fine with it. Knowing his reputation, he probably wouldn't be. But Jack had surprised you more than once already and you'd hope he would do it again now too. You wanted him, but you still had your priorities. Your family, and the wish to extend it was more important than a little crush.

Even if it didn't feel like just a little crush.

You could hear the tall man gulp quietly before placing his lips upon you again, the kiss was shorter, softer. Your lips responded softly to his, mind easing a little that he wasn't running.

"I might have to start numbering them if you get any more..." Jack joked quietly against your lips and it actually made you laugh. He wasn't against it, he just found the amount of children one woman would adopt ridiculous. Like everybody else, just that he was offering to try it. With you. All of you, even the family.

Jack was a ridiculously good partner. The reputation he had was nothing like how you knew him. Yes, he was a little crazy, a brute but he also was the best guy you've dated.

He cared for the kids, to the point the name "Dad" slipped more than once before it really was official. When it was, your children were almost happier than you. They liked the captain, loved how he'd take them on little trips whenever you needed a pause. Or the way he made their mother laugh so cheerfully at his jokes, although they didn't always understand them. They will, when they're older, you tell them.

After you and Jack became official you adopted two more children and they were the first ones to meet Jack as their Dad, not as the awkward man stumbling out of their home half-dressed some mornings. He was a bit scared at first, own children, adopting them with you and being their legal guardian from day one felt... odd.

He never saw himself there. He thought it just was not for him. Until you.

Jack even suggested tying the knot before you, if you'd like that. He loved your kids like they were his own. Hell, they were his now. And if he rushed away after a meeting just to pick them up from visiting friends or anything he was used to the stares. After all, the magic knight captains weren't exactly unknown.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The children weren't home, it was a rare day that the house was so quiet. Your little bundles of joy were at a birthday party with some of the children which gave you the rarer occasion of relaxing with your boyfriend.

Boyfriend. It still gave you a tingling feeling to think about it. How far you've come with him. It did not feel like you two had been together for that long, but you have.

A while back he was just a stranger doing his patrol and now he was the legal father of two from your six children. And that was only legal, the others still called him Dad. You never had thought this could happen, that you'd end up in bed with Jack the Ripper. Your back pressed against his chest as you cuddled up on the bed, spooning.

His fingertips ghosted over your hips. You couldn't remember a moment in the last weeks when you could just lie down with him and relax without anything interrupting you. As you closed your eyes you decided just to relax and ease into the touch, you deserved it. The gentle touches, the way his hand was brushing over your side and stomach.

His slender fingers traced your figure so delicately but with just enough pressure to spread pleasurable tingles across your body. The way he increased the pressure, kneading your flesh softly before his fingers continued his mindless search, fingernails sending goosebumps all across. It was causing your mouth to let loose the softest moans. His hands were warm and big, and he knew just where you liked to be touched, how you liked to be touched.

One of his hands crept up your stomach, cupping one of your tits and gently kneading there too. The sensation causes you to buck your hips back into his, your ass rubbing against his growing erection. The deep rasp of a low laugh was ringing in your eyes. His lips nipped and kissed at the nape of your neck. His lips turned up into a cocky smile as he heard the little muffled sound spilling from your lips.

Jack was slow, taking his time. No matter how often his hands would explore your body, he'd never tire of it. Although there was a thought stuck in his head. How you'd look with his child, how happy he could make you.

He bit his lip a little, trying to imagine how it would be for the little ones to get another playmate. And how you'd look, plump tits full of milk and your body getting more plush and soft. How happy he could make you, picking out names and going shopping. Having a little girl or boy that looked just like you running around the house.

And of course, he thought about how it would be to make this theoretical child. Definitely one of his favorite parts of this idea.

How your tight cunt would squeeze around his cock for everything he got. How it would be to go in raw and feel your sweet walls engulf him, squeeze and milk him. How you'd moan for him, how nice and deep he'd fuck you. Nice and deep, he would make sure it takes.

You turned your head to face Jack, your lips puckered a little and Jack did not waste a second to give you the kiss you silently asked for. His breath was heavy, his nose nuzzling against yours as he was claiming your lips with eager. It was one of the things you loved about Jack, his eagerness, his need to please. He wasn't a man who half-assed.

"I have an idea...", he mumbled with his mouth close to your ear. "Oh?" Your voice was a little amused as your hand reached back into his hair. Another sloppy kiss was shared before Jack laughed against your lips huskily.

"How about another brat, keke?" His question was voiced with lust, tone sultry making it oh too obvious what his intentions were even before he ground his hard cock against your ass. Your lips turned upwards in a little grin as you pressed back against him. "Oh?", you asked before laughing a little, "I thought I was insane for building a little army, as you have put it?"

"Let's make it a strong one." He whispered to your ear, his hands wandering to places they wouldn't belong in any more public space. "I promise I'll give you a strong addition.", he purred in your ears. A wide smile crept over his face as your sweet moans reached his ears. His fingers shamelessly toying with your clit. "I bet your brats would like another sibling."

"They probably would...", you agreed between heavy breaths. Your lips crashed against his again, your kisses eager and sloppy. Jack couldn't help but grin against your lips at the way you moaned into the kiss, his fingers wandering lower. Your slick collecting on his fingers before he pushed inside.

Jack's fingers were long, strong, and precise. His ring and middle finger worked on easing in and out your tight entrance, curling them to reach just the spot that had you bucking back into him. His thumb was still drawing sloppy and lazy circles on your clit while his mouth nipped and kissed on your throat, leaving little hickeys and marks.

He was impatient, hungry for you. His soft pace soon turned sloppy and fast, his cock rubbing against your ass through his pants. He responded to your moans with his own, your kisses getting messy, lips smashing against each other urgently.

His cock was throbbing in his pants, straining against the fabric and begging to be freed. To be engulfed in your sweet, slick walls instead of this fabric. His tongue was pushing out his mouth to get a taste of you, sweet, slutty moans that matched yours rolling off his lips.

"Can't wait to fuck you." He whispered shakingly, the pace of his fingers was still going, it was messy but unrelenting. "Then don't," you moaned against his lips.

In an instant, his hands retracted from your pants. His tall body crept over you, not even a minute after your clothes were discarded on the floor while Jack was making quick work of his own clothes. It was hot, and your vision was blurry, not like Jack felt any different from you. His vision was blurry and the only real point of focus was you.

Naked, spread out for him. Just for him. Ready to be devoured.

There was this insatiable hunger Jack felt every time he looked at you. It wasn't that bad at first, but it was there. But once you let him have a taste there was no turning back, he was hooked. Hooked on your body, your love. Hooked on you.

He grabbed your hips, pulling you closer with ease to align his length with your entrance. A gentleman, he teased you a little first, making sure his cock was covered in your juices and you were whining with your hole clenching around nothing for him. Such a gentleman, sinking his cock in slowly, making you feel every inch.

"Take me like a good girl, yeah?" He cooed at you, his lips turned upwards in a huge smile when he saw your face. You were so cute, red-faced, and heavily breathing. How could he ever resist you?

Your cunt was gripping him tightly, so tightly it was melting parts of his brain. He was only sinking in fully once and he already felt drunk off your pussy. Your sounds the sweetest thing he has ever heard.

He was breathing heavily, slowly sliding out and in, creating a rhythm that made you mewl with pleasure. Jack's eyebrows were furrowed as he tried his best, his very best not to lose his mind with the way your walls were pulsating around him and he could swear it was hypnotic or something. His kisses were sloppy and messy, hot breath coming out in short bursts.

It wasn't long after that the slow work-up did in fact not work for you two. Your sounds were loud enough to alert the neighbors, it was a good thing the kids were out. Jack couldn't control himself with the way he was fucking bullying his cock into your soaking cunt, loud squelching noises accompanied by the sound of his tight balls smacking against your ass over and over.

Your moans were lewd and loud, spilling into each other's mouths as your kisses were messy and full of tongue. Each thrust, each kiss full of lust, of desire for one another. The Captain rocked his hips into yours over and over again, his leaking cock nuzzling against all those places that had you in ecstasy. The heels of your feet digging into his lower back, trying to push him deeper.

It was almost animalistic, the way your bodies moved. His thrusts were sharp, hard, and fast. The sounds of your moans vibrating from the walls, the creaking of the bed, and the headboard slamming against the wall mixed with your voices creating a symphony of sin.

"I'm close, so close", you whined against his lips. Jack's grip on your hip tightened, his rhythm changing just a little to adjust his hip to slam in deeper, harder. Your fingers scratching his back and tugging at his hair was causing him to moan loader, to fuck into you more eagerly. His eyes were darting between your pleasure-struck face, a sight for the gods if he could say so himself, and the creamy white ring that built on the base of his cock.

"Good girl, such a pretty thing.", he praised between shaky breaths. A big grin plastered across his face, and one of his hands came up to cup your cheek. He made sure you'd look at him, basking in the sight of how flustered you got. Chest heaving and teary-eyed, a sight he'd never forget. His thrusts got harsher, forcing you to look at him while your face twisted and contorted in pleasure. The coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter, until it couldn't hold.

A loud moan escaped your lips, thighs shaking violently as your pussy clenches tightly around his length. The sensation was too much for the tall man, his moans becoming slightly more high-pitched as his hips stuttered, rhythm losing as he fucked himself into you more desperately. You were gripping him so tightly, your cum running along his length and dribbling down your legs and he couldn't compose himself. His hips rutted and ground into you with carnal need, chasing his high until he was spurting hot, sticky streaks of his release.

The tall man was still grinding his hip against yours after a few seconds, letting his orgasm wash over him before his arms gave out. He let himself fall on you, not his entire weight at once but he still wanted to stay there, on top of you, close to you, inside of you.

"Bloody hell", he laughed quietly, breath heavy as he peppered lazy kisses to your cheek. "You think it'll take?", he asked after a moment, rolling over and wrapping his arms around you. "I think it's a little early to say", you replied amused. Jack nodded understandingly.

"Then we should just keep repeating this until we have confirmation."

[octuscle]

Hey bro, whats up? My frat is pretty well known for some of the stuff we put our pledges through. This year we were thinking of using the chronivac to liven things up a bit. Got four eager pledges and we wanted to see if you had any presets or ideas for each of em. Was thinkin' of turning each of em into a different frat bro stereotype, but wanted to get your thoughts on it. Thanks man!

This year you guys need to recruit some of the smart lads. Your academic performance has been so poor the last few semesters that many of your alumni have threatened to cut your allowances. The nerds who applied all have IQs beyond 140, but if they moved into the frat house, they'd have to wear a paper bag on their head all day, they're that ugly. Let's see what we can do with Chronivac.

Richard is the first. The questionnaire is filled out in handwriting, as if a little girl had applied. He has entered a dash for daily hours in the gym. You take over in the Chronivac times "two". The favorite place is the library. You change that to "Halfpipe". And he has entered a visit to the Vatican Library as his dream vacation. You change this to Nazaré.

Quite a good start… Entrance exam passed. Ryder high-fives you and gets in the car to get his stuff. You are especially looking forward to his supply of first class weed.

Michael comes next. Fuck, he knits his own sweaters. And the dungarees look like they came from a department store. He also entered a dash at the gym classes. You take one. Favorite place is the big oak tree on campus. What a nerd! You'll change that to the men's department at Saks Fifth Avenue. And favorite vacation spot is no longer the Oregon woods. It's Florence for men's fashion week.

You welcome Miles to your home. And give him the room in the frat house with the biggest closet.

After all, Frederick actually put down "one" in the daily gym classes. But the results of that one hour are well hidden under thick layers of fat. He needs at least two hours so you don't have to be ashamed of him. His favorite place until a few seconds ago was the pastry shop on the main street. How pathetic! You make it the swimming pool on campus in your file. And you turn a chocolatier class in Bruges as a favorite vacation into participation in the World Aquatics Open Water Swimming World Cup.

Finn is not the emotional type. But you're sure he was happy to be accepted into the frat. Even if the movement of the corner of his mouth was barely visible.

Christian is by far the most intelligent of your pledges. Normally, you would chase him off the fraternity house grounds with water pistols. He tells you that he only applied because his father wanted him to. He thinks you are a miserable bunch of losers. He seriously filled in the questionnaire with hieroglyphics. The devil knows what he wanted to tell you. He sits across from you with his arms crossed in his stuffy clothes and doesn't say a word. Well, then, you just nurse Chronivac for the last new addition to the fraternity. Four hours in the gym, favorite place is his parents' hunting lodge on July 04, and his favorite vacation is Spring Break in South Beach.

Chase is a hot candidate for fraternity newcomer speaker. A real smart cookie. But most importantly, a fraternity brother with a passion!

Bruhs, I hope you are happy with the new guys. I think they will all be an asset to your fraternity.

The pictures of the improved pledges I found at @stargazerguy, @richmuscly, @swimgod81-blog and @maxx-magnum

[seeds-and-sins]

Light My Fire - Part Six

Pairing: Ben "Soldier Boy" x F!Reader

Rating: M (Crude Language, Curse Words, Sexism, descriptions of explicit sexual content)

Description: The Deep and Phoenix are sent to investigate a certain set of twins.

Tagged: @tonixe @chernayawidow, @deans-spinster-witchs-favorites, @ophennie @virgoelf-blog, @my-obsession-spn

Part Five

Sure. Soldier Boy understood you, but that didn't mean he really wanted you. It didn't mean that he would have chosen you over all else. He didn't care about you. When you think back on it, on the memories once lost in your head, now found, you were vulnerable. You allowed him into your heart when you shouldn't have. You knew better than to do that.

And Ben stuck. Ben attached himself to you like glue and you allowed it. Why would you allow that? Ben treated you so poorly back then, why would you allow him to get to you? A few words of sentiment, the exchange of an unsaid promise that was empty and forgotten. You had lived far too long to fall prey to such stupid sweet nothings. When Ben propped his chin on your head, when he wrapped his arms around you and told you that you were safe, you fell for it. How could you?

For years you tried to figure out what happened to him, and when you did Vought fucked you up worse than you already were. Why go through that for someone who didn't even care? Someone who would never choose you?

So, you chose John.

"You're not going to um..." Your droopy gaze shifted in the Deep's direction and the man's words crumbled with his composure. The Deep became a stuttering mess, eyes wide, a hard frown on his lips.

"What?" You breathed, swishing the glass of bronze liquid in your hand before bringing it to your lips for another sip. "Spontaneously burst into flames?"

"Um..." He cleared his throat. "Yeah."

"No. I'm not gonna' do that." Your eyes returned to the massive screen in front of you. The pixelated words had blended together, camera footage and images of Soldier Boy flooded the screen.

"Just making sure..." The Deep began, his adam's apple bobbed as he gulped. "You've been sitting here for a little bit, drinking."

"I can't get drunk so, it doesn't matter anyways."

"Yeah but, doesn't alcohol like-make you worse-I mean-"

"Shut up." You stated firmly, in a dead tone. You hadn't had many interactions with the Deep since you had arrived back at the tower all those months ago. What you did know was that you hated him. You didn't need to know much about him to know that he was a piece of shit. The news and tabloids agreed, but even more so, the way he weaseled a spot back into the Seven made you sick to your stomach. You thought Swatto was bad all those years ago. The Deep was worse. At least Swatto owned up to the horrible accusations, the Deep tried to pretend like nothing happened. Coward. "Can you look something up for me?" It wasn't much of a question as it was a demand. The Deep knew as much when he cast a side glance in your direction.

You kicked your feet up onto the desk, still dressed in your hero suit. You tucked the glass of whiskey in your lap and crossed your ankles.

"Sure-uh-what exactly?"

"Look up me." You stared intently at the screen, not flinching once at the expression on the Deep's face.

"Are you-"

"Look me up now." And the vigorous tapping of keys sounded through a devastating silence. Images of you popped up, old and new, as well as a few files and a short synapsis of information. "Hmm..." You sipped from the glass, calm and collected. "That's my name." You pondered, the Deep squinted at you.

"You didn't know your name?"

"I forgot my name. Last person to call me by it wants me dead." You shrugged, the tip of your finger tracing the lip of your glass. "I want to know something specific." Your voice was distant, you felt like you were hovering above your body looking in.

"O-kayy~"

"Pull up my file for the year 1994."

"1994?" The Deep muttered in confusion, a few moments passed in quiet as he scrolled across the search and clicked through files. He paused with a frown. "It's classified."

"Classified?" You spat, abruptly jerking up from your seat and slamming the glass down onto the desk. The Deep flinched, he held his hands up from the keyboard.

"Look, man, I don't know. It's just classified." You stood fully and crossed your arms, eyes skimming the screen, everything was blacked out.

"Open it then."

"That's not how it works. Some of this stuff needs security clea-"

"You're in charge of fuckin' security! Do it!" You fumed and the waves of heat rolling off of you were enough to send the Deep in motion. He was shaking as he tried to find a way into your information. The Deep wasn't suited for this job, but Homelander was convinced that the Deep was a useful pawn in his quest to takeover Vought. Just then, the Deep accidentally clicked a distant file and a video popped up on the screen. "Stop!" You leaned in. It was Vogelbaum, he was wearing a mask, speaking into a camera, sitting at a desk, your unconscious body was resting on an examination table in the background.

"Day Three. It is approximately eight in the morning, eastern time, on September 23rd, 1994." The quality of the footage was old. Voegelbaum was younger then. The mask muffled his voice, but you knew what he was saying. "After repeated attempts, I have concluded it to be impossible to harvest any cellular matter from Subject 665's body. Her skin is impenetrable to the extent that even the scraping of simple tissue matter is impossible. It is fascinating how the carbon monoxide weakens her thermodynamic abilities, but retains the sturdiness of her cellular structure as a result of those abilities. Attempts at transvaginal ultrasound aspiration have failed, but I have been in the process of creating a concoction that might be capable of targeting the cells in her body, making it easier to harvest the egg follicles residing in her ovaries." You cupped a handle over your mouth, tears peeking at the corners of your eyes. What did that mean? The pills?! You had been taking them for years, only having recently stopped. What did that mean?! "We will keep Subject 665 in containment for a little longer, given that Mindstorm's treatments toward her mental state continue to work."

The video ended.

"More!" You hissed at the Deep and he aggressively began typing away, when another video popped up:

You were sitting at a white table, all too familiar to you. You were dressed in a tank top and baggy sweatpants. Your hair was disheveled and your eyes were sunken and the light inside you was fading bit by bit.

"Phoenix," It was Vogelbaum, sitting somewhere outside of the camera's view, your neck craned back and you chewed anxiously at your bottom lip. "Do you recall where we started off last? Or would you like me to refresh your memory?"

"What do you want?" You whispered, your voice was shaky and you sounded like you were on the verge of tears.

"Tell me what first made you suspicious of Soldier Boy's death." You crossed your arms, eyes frantically looking around the room.

"It-It didn't seem right. Everyone was too normal."

"Your peers didn't seem to like him, so you can't blame them-"

"No. It just wasn't right." You blurted out, jabbing a finger at your chest. "I knew! I knew it wasn't right!"

"Okay, okay, calm down." Vogelbaum urged, you saw his hand enter the frame of the camera from across the table, but he didn't dare touch you and risk burning himself. "And what did you do after that?"

"I went to Nicaragua." You said, releasing a shaky breath.

"And what did you do there?"

"I-I-" Your looked away, hands now rested in your lap, twiddling your thumbs. "I needed to find out what happened."

"Of course," Vogelbaum chirped, "I expect no less."

"The locals didn't want to answer my questions." You lowered your head, Vogelbaum pressed further.

"And what did you do?"

"I killed some people."

"Some?"

"Okay..." You sighed, then timidly admitted, "I killed a lot of people."

"Is there a reason why Soldier Boy's death affected you so?"

"If he could die..." Your breath hitched, "Maybe I could too."

"Interesting." Homelander piped in from his place behind you. You had assumed he had been standing there for a while because he wasn't looking at you the same. You were like a damaged animal and he was your abusive keeper. "I'm sending the Deep and you to go check on the twins." The video continued running in the background, but John didn't seem to care about the images and sounds circulating from the screen.

"Why me?" You snapped, John blinked down at you with cold, steely eyes.

"You think the Deep can fight Soldier Boy head on?"

The answer to that was 'no', everyone knew that.

"I know he can't, but I would rather just leave him to die."

"Wow, that was heartfelt." The Deep blurted out, immediately regretting his sarcastic remark with a hand slapped over his lips.

"Phoenix." John sighed, placing a firm hand on your shoulder, a warning. "I need your help on this. We know Soldier Boy's next marks. This is our chance to get a jump on him."

"If he's half the man he was when I was working with him, we'll never get the jump on him." To anyone else, John was Homelander. To you, John was a boy. He had the same look of fear in his eyes now that he had the first time you introduced him to a crowd. It was overwhelming. You didn't blame John for being scared, but there was something else. There was always something else.

...

You dropped Deep onto the concrete pavement of a lengthy driveway. You were about twelve feet up, he hit the ground with a hard thud and plopped onto his side.

"Fuck!" He hissed, "Was that necessary?!" Phoenix ignored him as she lowered herself, clasping her hands behind her back as she considered the mansion in front of them. Oh, how she wanted to run through it like a knife to butter. These TNT twins lived in luxury after what they had done to Soldier Boy, after what they had done to you, and you would take that away from them first before taking away their lives.

"Come on, sea slug. We got business to take care of." The Deep trotted up to your side, albeit wincing and rubbing at his arm.

"What did I do to you?! Hmm?" He had somehow gained the courage to confront you, when now wasn't really a good time. "I've been good to you."

"You sexually assaulted and raped dozens of woman, and you want to know why I don't like you? That's funny." You said in a dead and even tone that must have sent chills down the Deep's spine because he stopped walking. You approached the mahogany doors, glaring at them, feeling the fire burning in your blood. "You're going to have to do the talking."

"What? Why? Weren't these guys on your team all those years ago?"

"I want to kill them." The Deep gulped, nervously stuttering out nothing before nodding his head and bringing a fist to the door.

"Yeah, I'll do the talking." As you were waiting for the door to open, you couldn't help but get the feeling that you were being watched. The mansion was surrounded by a large plot of land, a sparse tree line bordering it. It could have been nothing, but then also it could have been something. Even with pretty much every part of yourself being 'superhuman', you never had the ability to hear someone's heart beat or see through solid objects. The most you could do in that regard was focus really hard and you might be able to detect nearby heat sources. And that was if you focused really hard. But what you did have was a sixth sense. Your old team used to comment on it all the time. You always had a feeling that something was going to happen before it did. You could always feel when something was off, not right. It was how you knew that Soldier Boy never really died in Nicaragua, it was how you found John in that lab all those years ago, and now, it was how you knew that something was about to happen. Something big.

What if Soldier Boy was here? What if that was why Tommy and Tessa weren't answering the door? Maybe Soldier Boy had already killed them? Your anxiety spiked. You weren't ready. You thought you were, but you weren't. You were anything but ready. What if he was the one that answered the door? What would you do?

You weren't the same person. Neither of you were the same person. He wanted you dead.

"Jesus Christ. Knock again." You crossed your arms, cape swaying behind you, your eyes frantically tracing the tree line once more. The Deep knocked, hitting the door a little harder this time. The door swung open. Music emanated from inside, loud moans and screams of pleasure and booming conversations and-

No. Fuck no. It couldn't be...

They were still doing this shit?

Tommy and Tessa were standing there. Tessa was wearing a leather dominatrix-esque outfit and Tommy was wearing a golden robe and a pair of dirty looking boxer shorts. They both looked aged. Old and worn down. Part of you envied Tessa's wrinkles and Tommy's grey hairs and you wanted that, but it was only a distant thought before you tuned in. They were pleased when they saw the Deep, but the moment their twin eyes landed on you, you could noticeably see the fear blossom in their very souls. Good, you thought, they should be afraid.

"The Deep..." Tommy began, "Captain of the Seven Seas, and..." Tommy choked, eyes wide as he looked you up and down.

"Phoenix." Tessa said cooly, nursing her cigarette. She was as tough looking as she was when you first met her, attempting to put on the persona that made her seem ruthless and brave. But Tessa was terrified, and you knew it better than anybody. You fed off of their fear like a lion did their meat and you were starving for it. "Long time no see."

"Well..." The Deep cleared his throat. "Sorry to drop in like this unannounced."

"Not at all, um-" Tommy froze up again at the sight of your unflinching stare, honed in on him. "We were having a bit of a celebration." He chuckled nervously, clapping his hands together. "You guys are welcome to come on in." Before the Deep could speak, Phoenix piped in:

"You know who started Herogasm?" Tommy glanced at Tessa, they sent each other uneasy looks. "Soldier Boy. You remember him, right?" This smile crept up onto your face, plastered on, hard and sharp.

"Yeah." Tessa snorted, shrugging. "Figured we'd keep the tradition alive. Why not?"

"Hmm." You sighed, stepping forward and scooping Tessa and Tommy in your arms and into a tight hug. Your head was between theirs, they stood stiff like wooden boards. Neither of them were strong enough to protest. "So good to see you guys again." You leaned back, a hand on either of their shoulders and you held them in place, looking between them with that same smile. "I just wanted to let you guys know that I know." Tessa squinted at you, she had dropped her cigarette in fear when you looped them into your death hug.

"I'm sorry?" She whispered with a wince. Tommy chewed his bottom lip.

"K-K-Know what?"

"Everything." Your whispered back as your grin widened. You didn't have to have super hearing to know that Tommy's heart skipped.

Return to Masterlist

[thatrickmcginnis]

FELA KUTI Toronto 1989

Even though it went unpublished anywhere for over twenty-five years, my 1989 portrait sitting with Nigerian musical legend Fela Kuti is probably one of my most important shoots. It happened because, to put it plainly, I wanted it to happen, and did my level best to make it happen. I was a fan and had photographed Fela at a press conference here in 1987, doing publicity for a concert that ended up not happening for two more years. I was in a bit of a lacuna in my career when a new concert was announced, first at a soccer stadium not far from where I lived, before it was moved to the old Masonic Temple downtown, also known as the Concert Hall. I wasn’t shooting regularly for any publication at the time, so I was working strictly on spec when I contacted Gary Froude, the promoter of the show, to see if I could get permission not just to photograph the concert but possibly a few minutes for a portrait sitting. To my surprise he said yes.

Fela Anikulapo Kuti was born to a prosperous family in Nigeria in 1938 and made his name with Africa 70, his first big band, attracting the attention of musicians like Ginger Baker and Paul McCartney. He also became a vocal opponent of Nigeria’s government, criticizing them as he recorded prolifically, on albums like Confusion, Expensive Shit, Zombie, No Agreement and many others. In 1977 his Lagos compound was raided; Fela as beaten severely and his mother was fatally injured when she was thrown out a window. By the end of the decade he’d formed a new band, Egypt 80, and began releasing records like Army Arrangement and Teacher Don’t Teach Me Nonsense on labels in Europe and America. The Nigerian government jailed him on charges of currency smuggling in 1984, and in 1986 he performed at an Amnesty International concert in Giants Stadium. But ticket sales for his show in Toronto in 1989 were slow, forcing it to be moved to a smaller venue; I’m not sure the promoter made any money on it, but I remember it as one of the best concerts I have ever seen.

I showed up to photography Fela Kuti around soundcheck and set up my modest lighting in a big dressing room in the basement of the Concert Hall on Yonge Street. Most of all I remember that Fela was one of the most intimidating men I have ever met, and that we began the portrait sitting with a series of rather straightforward shots on my Mamiya C330 camera. After finishing a roll Fela signaled for a break; he stretched out on a couch and began smoking the largest joint I had seen in my life for over a half hour. When the portrait session resumed he was, as I once wrote, rather heroically stoned, and these photos were far looser, as Fela glowered and pulled at his face. I’ve included every worthwhile frame I shot that afternoon on this post – the first time many of these shots have ever been published. Fela Kuti died of complications from AIDS in 1997.

I returned that night to shoot the show, going through several rolls of colour and black and white film, after which everything sat in my files for over two decades until I posted a few shots on my old blog. They came to the attention of Rikki Stein, Fela’s onetime manager, who arranged for them to appear for the first time in a 2017 box set of Fela’s records curated by Erykah Badu. Since then my Fela shots have been reprinted frequently; they were featured as part of a nightclub set on the Netflix reboot of the prime time soap Dynasty, on a line of t-shirts made by Carhartt, and in a Fela exhibit in Paris in 2023. Last year one of my live shots of Fela was on the cover of the debut issue of Rolling Stone Africa, which felt like vindication for that spec shoot I’d begged to do almost four decades ago. (Though I still wish they’d gone with one of these portraits.)

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 17/05/2024

Athletic Doctor

Season 1 Featured on: GilvaSunner's Highest Quality Video Game Rips: Volume 1 Also on: SiIvaGunner: Starter Kit & Essentials

Ripped by Psynwav

ONE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL!!

I haven't slept in so long...I forgot what dreams were like.

Honestly - what better way could there be for me to celebrate the 365th main post on the blog, than to be fashionably late by a whole weekend? It's unfortunate, but...oddly befitting, really. Back when I was first starting out with the blog, I actually forgot about posting daily for a solid two weeks - and so, some old-ass posts like Chillin’ Like A Villain and (YTPMV) Bob​-​Omb Battlesources were made in quite a hurry retroactively. Nevertheless, it was on May 17th 2023, over on my main blog @melblur, that I suddenly decided that I wanted to write about one SiIvaGunner rip a day just for fun. After File Select Fusion Collab, I realized that it made more sense just to put these on their own blog, and with Snowball Park - Super Mario 3D World I moved everything onto here. It's all been a bit of a bumpy ride, is my point. But today, I've reached the big milestone that I was originally aiming for all the way back with Running Through Cookie Country - a year's worth of almost-always-daily posts on the weird and wonderful world of SiIvaGunner. And what better rip to discuss alongside this milestone than the channel's biggest hit, the milestone rip to stand above all others: Season 1's Athletic Doctor.

Now, I've been following SiIvaGunner since some of the earliest moments of Season 1, following along with the initial GiIvaSunner termination, the entire Reboot saga discussed in I Saw a Brainwasher Today, the Mashup Crusaders arc of Mr. Rental [B Side] ~ Out of Options, the channel ending of Epic Flintstones... Basically, I was there for just about the entire initial 9-month run, and have with but one Season's worth of an exception (Season 5) been following the channel damn near obsessively since. The point is that, through this, I have been able to follow the channel's most popular videos chart up and down with each passing month: I recall, for instance, how Nintendo GameCube Startup - Console/BIOS Music soared past all other rips back in the day and stayed on top for five month's time. That was, of course, before finally being surpassed by we are number one but with outdated memes over it and subsequently helping kickstart the entire We Are Number One meme trend (funny enough - you can actually find a youtube comment left by me on the rip in late December 2016/early 2017 expressing mild annoyance over the rip's popularity...). Athletic Doctor in comparison was of course always popular, but it took a while to truly climb its way up there - it was in the top ten, then top five, always rising, bubbling in the background. Eventually, starting with Season 3's premiere, the team decided to just make the rip the trailer for the channel for new viewers - where it still sits today, now as the far-and-away most popular rip on the channel.

I feel like the reason the rip became used as the defacto channel trailer, the reason it keeps being referenced in videos demonstrating what SiIvaGunner is all about, is pretty obvious. I've talked a lot in posts like Live and Ooooooooooooooh about how outright *effective* many of Season 1's rips were, and Athletic Doctor is the most prime example of that imaginable - it is a damn near pitch perfect joke executed shockingly well for the time of its upload in the channel's history. EVERYONE knows the music to Super Mario World, either through its usage in the game itself in the 90s, its appearances in games like Super Smash Bros. Melee in the 2000s and Super Mario Galaxy 2 in the 2010s - or just through sheer overexposure to it in just about any era of gaming YouTube. The game's soundtrack is the perfect blend of being immediately recognizable and incredibly easy to hum along to given the entire game basically only has three or so melodies, relying on its central leitmotif to a degree bordering on parody. Likewise as well, EVERYBODY knows Witch Doctor, either through excessive radio play, being a big hit with Alvin & the Chipmunks...or the 2007 Live Action Alvin & the Chipmunks movie that I myself grew up with, it's the kind of vaguely obnoxious (also arguably quite racist) nonsense novelty music that's incredibly appealing to young kids, the same way something like Crazy Frog or its ilk was in the 2000s as well.

Put simply, Athletic Doctor was a match made in heaven - and the joke is pulled off so expertly that it feels redundant to put into words. The Athletic Theme intro is iconic enough to where you're led into a false sense of security right off the bat, the melody swap is subtle enough as to not immediately be noticeable, making the moment you notice it even more noteworthy - only for the track's second loop to become a full-on mashup with the Witch Doctor track. Absolutely perfect escalation, just the right amount of buildup - but most importantly, it ends up actually sounding really good! The joke's great to be sure, very much like Live and Ooooooooooooooh - but I feel like the core reason why Athletic Doctor has continued to endure for so long on the channel, why it keeps getting remixed and referenced and paid tribute to on so many instances, is because it's just a genuinely good listen once the joke sets in. In other words, it is the purest distillation of SiIvaGunner's appeal - a joke so simple, yet pulled off with a magical appeal that remains even all these years later.

Through running this blog, it's that very specific appeal that I've wanted to try and encapsulate with the rips I cover, with what I write about them, to uncover that elusive magic of this dumb shitpost channel. Joel's big Grand Dad reaction that kicked the channel off is a good bit, to be sure, but its not a bit that could've lasted eight years and counting: In its earliest days, its easy to see how the channel could've just become naught but a novelty and fallen off the face off the earth once interest in it died. Yet through each year of the channel's life, with every Season that passes, it's evolved and adapted. Be it the spontaneous chaos of Season 1, the building storyline of Season 2, the mystery and nostalgia of Season 3, the sheer talent on display in the King for Another Day Tournament in Season 4 Episode 1 and the sheer joy of celebration found in Season 4 Episode 2, the whimsical experimentation of Season 5, the sudden introspection and moodiness of Season 6, the pure adoration and love for everything the channel stands for in Season 7, and the ongoing pure silliness of Season 8 - each period of this channel feels as if it's growing in a new direction, never content sitting in one place for too long - and yet the appeal of a rip like Athletic Doctor remains oh so core to the entire SiIvaGunner experience. The experience of which I've made my best effort to cover across all 365 posts on this blog. To show everyone the layers in which this channel goes in.

That's what I've been wanting to show you... but now, before I end this post, I want to briefly talk about what you've shown *me*. I know its a cliché thing to say, but really - it warms my heart EVERY time I receive messages about the blog. This all began as just a way for me to practice my writing ability, but suddenly I was having the actual rippers - the names that I'd admire from my MP3 player but hardly ever considered able to actually interact with - messaging me in private to express how happy my posts made them...not to mention the people in SiIvaCord discussing rips with me, digging into my writing, sharing anecdotes I'd never heard of, and everyone who requested rips genuinely eager to see what I had to write about them...like, again, its the biggest cliché on the planet, and I know this blog really isn't all *that* big in the grand scheme of things - but I never expected to even get more than five people actually engaging with what I post? To everyone, and ESPECIALLY to the silent majority reading my posts without a Tumblr account, the ones engaging from a distance - thank you SO much for validating all that I've done on here.

Now, there's still plenty of posts I have left in me, plenty of ones already in the drafts and unfulfilled requests well in the dozens. But like...tons has happened since when this all started 12 months ago. I got a summer job! I'm wrapping up what's hopefully my final three school courses! I've started listening to so much new music, expanding my music tastes, in huge part thanks to all the digging this blog has made me do! And, of course, getting to be this open about what's likely my absolute weirdest special interest has honestly made me feel more confident in myself as a person, made me a more outgoing individual in general. And so, to get all of my ducks in a row, to help straighten things out for a bit...I'm going to take a break from regular posting on here. I'm aiming for it to be no longer than a month's time - again, I have much I still wish to write about!! - but you'll of course still see me reblogging fanart and other such things on here just from using Tumblr casually. And hey - if you haven't already, I recommend you take the time to go scavenging through The Archive for daily posts that you might have missed! Having a blog with so much writing on it, so many posts, so much to discover for readers old and new...In a way, I've basically made it so that navigating the blog feels just like navigating the vast seas of the SiIvaGunner channel itself. And isn't that just the most fitting way to leave it all on - an ocean of posts, waiting for you to uncover them?

THAT SIIVAGUNNER TUMBLR BLOG WILL RETURN IN SEASON 2