#middle name barrack

[miniwheat77]

Seductive. (Captain Price x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, smut, p in v sex, rough sex, age gap, (let me know if I missed any)

(Summary): Reader takes some advice from a friend on base and seduces her Captain.

(This has been in my drafts for forever, I hope you like it.)

Your eyes narrow as you look upon her, very clear fake laugh leaving her lips as she places her hand on his shoulder. He doesn't notice, but you do. You can see the look in his eyes as she does, what she's doing. It's working. She walks away from him and makes her way over to you. You're sitting at a table in the mess hall, sandwich in hand.

“What are you doing?” You ask your only friend on the base you worked on. Her name was Katy, the only tolerable female on base. She might've been a little bit of a barracks bunny but you usually ignored that. She was nice and funny and you got along with her quite well.

“What?” She says. “You’re totally trying to seduce him.” You laugh. After witnessing her chatting up your commander. “Yeah? So?” Your eyes widen. “What the hell. You whore.” She shoves you. “Oh come on, don’t be such a prude.” She rolls her eyes. “Katy. You know you can’t have relations on base.” You chuckle. “What they don’t know won’t hurt em.” She smirks. “You’re not interested in anyone at all?” She asks. “No.” You say, confused. “Lame. I was going to tell you how to get what you want.” She smirks. You roll your eyes. “I’ll let you know if I ever need your expertise, but you know I’m leaving soon.” She scoffs. “I know. It’s bullshit, you’re supposed to stay here with me.” She pouts. “It’s only for 6 months and I’ll be back.” You chuckle.

You’d been recruited for task force 141, and you were leaving in a couple of weeks. She was very upset that you were leaving but you were excited for something new. After finishing up lunch, the both of you returned to your posts. You weren't sure how you got recommended to be in task force 141, you hadn't even met anyone apart of it besides the few time's you talked to Laswell, but it wasn't her task force. It was different and you weren't sure if you were ready for it.

The two weeks leading up to the day you were leaving, were crazy. Almost every single day Katy convinced you to go out, you spent almost 2 full weeks hungover at work. It was awful, but it was some of the most fun you’d ever had. The time seemed to drag on, you were nervous and excited at the same time for something different. You were waiting on a bench patiently for your helicopter to arrive, the one that'd be taking you away. Katy was sitting next to you. Talking to you before you'd inevitably leave. She was worried but she'd never show it. She was good at hiding her emotions. She had been through a lot before she entered the military, so she was good at concealment. When the helicopter arrived, she gave you a hug and you finished your goodbye's to the other few acquaintances you had on base. They were sad to see you go, and they were worried as well. 141 went on some crazy missions and they were worried about you. "Don't get dead." Katy smiles, you could see the hurt in her eyes.

She was upset when you left but she’d be okay. She had guys on base to keep her company while you were gone anyways.

The ride to the base task force 141 was on took quite a few hours. They were off in the middle of nowhere in Iran. Working toward eliminating Hassan Zyani. The Iranian terrorist.

When you arrived on base, it was pretty early in the morning. "Hi." A man smiles. He's attractive, very attractive. You smile and take his outstretched hand. Shaking it. "I'm Captain John Price. It's nice to finally meet you." He smiles. His accent takes you a little off guard, forgetting that this base is going to have Military from all over. "Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N." You smile. He nods his head. "I've heard a lot about you. A lot about how sharp you are for your age." He smiles. "Really? I didn't know that people talked about me." You chuckle. "Oh they do. It's nice having you here Y/N, I'll show you around.” He spins around on his heels and you know you'll fit in just fine here.

Your first few weeks with 141 were busy. Nonstop missions, always up to something. If you weren’t out on a mission, you were inside of an office helping people out with research and all kinds of paperwork. You spent a lot of time with your Captain and Laswell. They enjoyed your company and your expertise with technology. Your relationship with each of the members of 141, and those in alliance with 141 were close knit. You got along so well with everyone right away and they took you in as one of their own. Joking and playing with Soap, but knowing he’d ring someone’s neck for you. Slight gestures that always made Ghost smile under his mask. Sharing sweets with him, laughing when he didn’t like it and would spit it out. Catching him smoking with his mask slightly lifted. Him threatening to kill you if you tell anyone. His eyes would darken and he’d glare if someone said something slightly aggressive to you. Playing small pranks on everyone with Gaz, he was like your evil twin. But the couple times Price got stern with you he was always there to help the situation. Usually a “take it easy cap, she’s new.”

But you didn’t really mind when he got stern with you. If you needed correction, you’d take the advice.

The only thing that really started to bother you, was the growing feelings you felt for your Captain. You didn’t figure he’d go after you, significant age gap, the job you both worked in. It just seemed impossible. You wondered if he was married but ended up asking if he had any kids and he said no, he’d never even been married. Your heart jumped. Literally wanted to beat out of your chest in excitement. He was single. Your only concern now was the significant age gap. If he didn’t mind, you definitely didn’t mind.

You spent many nights up late, daydreaming. You thought about the way he smelled, the way he has to taste on your tongue. The way his facial hair would scratch at the skin between your legs. You were groggy most days but managed to hide it. Your Captain always kept everything professional with you. He never gave you a reason to have such a growing crush on him despite his protectiveness. He was a little rough around the edges, raised his voice sometimes, very stern. You day dreamt about that too, how rough he could be. His calloused hands moving with the curves of your body. Sometimes you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face, get him out of your head. But not even an ice bath would take away the growing heat you felt between your legs when you thought about him. You suffered like this for longer than you liked to admit. Longing stares at him during meetings. Constant concern about him on missions. It was getting a little dangerous how you felt about him.

You sat on the edge of your bed. It was pretty late at night. You were running out of options. You had one left, and you were growing desperate. With a sigh, you pull your phone out. Quickly dialing her number.

“Hey Katy.” You smile as she answered. “Y/N! Hi! How is everything?” She asks. “Everything is great, but I need advice.” You laugh. “Oh? With what?”

You take a deep breath, standing up and stepping further into your room to ensure nobody would hear you. “Do you remember when you said to ask you, ‘when I wanted to get what I want’ you remember that?” You say. She squeals through the phone. “You like somebody? You’re going to try to seduce them? You whore.” She laughs. “Yeah, if I told you who it was you’d probably freak.” She looks confused but you can’t see it. “What?”

“It’s my Captain.” She gasps. “Y/N! You little minx!” She laughs. “Just.. tell me how to do it.” You breathe. “Okay okay.” She laughs.

“First, start being friendly. When he makes a joke, put your hand on his shoulder, on his knee if you’re sitting next to him. You can fake a laugh, but don’t be obvious.” She says. “I’m listening.” You smile. “Your base isn’t that strict right?” She asks. “No?” She smiles on the other end of the line. “In the morning, before you put your uniform on, go out to get coffee. I’ve done it before in just a tank top and shorts. But you have to track his pattern so you know where he’ll be. Make sure he’s in the room, you don’t wanna seduce the wrong one yknow?” She laughs. “When you’re training, just wear a sports bra and shorts. Tight shorts. Ask him to help you train, and don’t be afraid to make some suspicious noises when you’re working out.” She smirks. “When you’re stretching, whimper. They like that.” You’re laughing. “You seem to know a lot about this.” You laugh. “Of course I do.” She rolls her eyes. You take a deep breath. “Start with those, and I’ll think of some more.” She giggles. “Okay. You’re a life saver.” After some more sly words from her, you talk a little more about everything going on. Once you’re done, you say your goodbyes and hang up.

The nervousness you felt in the morning after the conversation with her was almost too much to bare. You made your way into the mess hall, shorts and a tight tank top just like she said. You knew your Captain didn’t sleep all that well so he was always the first awake. You make your way into the kitchen, your eyes burned from being tired but you needed this. Needed him to pay attention to you. When you step into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes tiredly, his eyes nearly bulge out of his head. He has to stop himself from choking on his coffee. He had never seen you dressed like this before. He has to kick himself for acting like a horny teenage boy, it was pathetic. You don't notice anything different about him as you finish getting your coffee, mumbling a small 'good morning' to him.

Over the next couple of weeks, you do as she says. When he'd make you laugh in any way, you'd put a light hand on his shoulder or thigh if you were sitting next to him. You'd come out nearly every morning in something revealing. He didn't seem to show any interest in you which sucked. You started to think maybe he just wasn't interested in you, but after more conversations with Katy, she said to keep up and not let up quite yet. To keep doing it for a while. So you did. It didn't take much to do it anyways.

“Morning Captain.” You say tiredly. “Good morning.” He smiles. He breathes out. He didn’t expect this, the way you looked under your gear. “Why are you awake so early Ah?” He asks. “Didn’t sleep good. Was thinking about working out but Soap is usually my spotter and I know he’s not awake yet.” You sigh. You laugh, sitting across from him at the table. You needed to try something else, so why not this? John perks up. “I could spot you if you need help.” He breathes. He’s trying not to sound too eager. “Oh I’d hate to ask you to do that..” you say innocently. “Oh, it’s no problem. I don’t mind.” He smiles. “Okay. I’ll go get changed and I’ll meet you in the gym?” He nods his head. “Sounds good sweetheart.”

You walk quickly to your room, changing into an even more revealing outfit. You wait around in the gym, doing your usual workout routine. When your Captain comes in, he freezes when he sees you. Sports bra, even tighter shorts. He breathes out, trying to collect his thoughts. Was he really this deprived? Thinking this way about you?

He sets all of his belongings down and makes his way over to you. “Ready?” He asks. Standing over the bench press. You nod your head. "You've stretched already right?" He asks. You nod your head with a smile. You lay down and get adjusted onto it. You grasp the bar, lifting it off of the rack and beginning to lift it up. “Let me know when it gets to be too much.” He says. You nod your head trying to breath through it. Katy’s words echo in your ear.

You start small, small breaths of air leaving your lips, and you get a tiny bit louder, very small moans escape your lips and you don't notice anything at first but as your whimpers got louder, breaths of air leaving your lips with each raise you do, you finally catch it. John stepping back. Having to adjust his hardening cock. The tightening he felt was uncomfortable and he couldn’t take it. You notice this action, having to stop yourself from smiling. It was fucking working.

Katy you devil.

You hang up the bar, struggling a little as you did so. “Did good Y/N.” He smiles. “Thank you, I’m trying.” You laugh. Your body had a slight sheen of sweat. He could see the way your cleavage looked. Beads of sweat. You probably tasted so sweet, he wanted to run his tongue along your skin. He has to shake the thoughts away. So dirty. It was fucking working. You were so surprised. John works out alongside you for only a few minutes longer before excusing himself to go do 'work' which you knew wasn't true. He was rock hard and needed relief, or at least to get away from you. The moment he leaves the Gym, you're picking up your phone to give Katy a call.

When she picks up, the first words out of your mouth are "It fucking worked!" to which she laughs. She asks if you hooked up but of course you say "Not yet." following this up by telling her what had happened with the Gym.

"Maybe you should surprise him in his office if that's where he went. Might walk in on a little something." She laughs. You laugh, shrugging it off. After a little more conversation, you make your way to his office. Maybe she was right. Maybe you might. As you approach you don't hear anything. But you think, he might hear your footsteps and it would be awkward for you to walk away, it'd seem suspicious. So without thinking you come up with some kind of lie and walk right into his office. Your breath leaves your body, a gasp leaving your lips. He gasps out, eyes going wide as he rushes to cover himself up. "Fuck, I'm so sorry." You gasp, rushing to cover your eyes. "I'll.. I'll come back later." You mumble. You step out and he groans in frustration, he needed to catch you before you got away.

He scrambles up to follow after you. Opening up his office door. “Wait- Y/N!” He calls after you. You stop immediately, turning around. “Come here.” He breathes. You nod your head immediately, following him back into his office. “I.. what did you need darling?” He asks. His face is blushing red, and he slicks his hair back, he hadn’t even put his hat on. “I.. I was…” you pause for a second. He’s standing right in front of you, hard. Little beads of sweat on his forehead. You glance down, backing up into his office door and closing it behind you. “I was going to ask if you needed any help. But I guess you answered my question.” You smile. His eyes widen at how forward you’re being, but he’s not going to deny this. He’s breathing hard, he seems nervous.

He takes a step forward and smashes his lips against yours, pushing you back into the wall behind you. He’s got a tight grip on you as he kisses you, teeth knocking against yours with the force of his lips moving with yours. He reaches for the shorts you still have on, pushing them down your legs. Once you’re bare, he lifts you up by your thighs, walking you over to his desk and sliding some of his paperwork off to set you down onto it. “Such a fucking temptress.” He breathes. He leans into you and you hold onto him by his neck, kissing him again. He’s got his hand wrapped around your lower back, hips rubbing into yours. The seam of his pants is stimulating you, making you moan out. He unbuttons them, unzipping them and pushing them low enough to expose his cock. Your eyes widen slightly at him. He spits in his hand, lowering his hand to slide it over your hole, earning a gasp from you. He slides his cock right into you, filling you completely full in one thrust. He clamps a hand over your mouth as a cry is about to leave your lips. “Stay quiet for me darling.” He chuckles. He holds it there as he begins fucking you, your body lurching with every hard thrust he takes. He raises your thighs higher up on his hips, pushing you further back into the desk, until the cold wood is pressed right up against your back. You clutch the edge of it, trying your hardest to stay quiet as he hammers his hips into yours.

“Been such a fucking tease-“ he grits his teeth. Holding onto your thighs. “Walking out there in basically nothing in the morning.. wearing those tight clothes- fuck.” He tilts his head back. Groaning out. “I didn’t think it’d work.” You look up at him, lazy smile on your lips. “You seduced me?” He smirks. You bite your lip, staying quiet. He snorts. “Bad girl hm?” He rubs at your clit with his thumb, and you tilt your head back once again. “Bad, bad girl.” He growls. Your knuckles are turning white with how hard you’re holding onto the desk, a death grip as he pounds you. He pushes a hand down around your throat, pushing down on you lightly. “You didn’t have to work too hard at it baby, just didn’t think you’d go for an old man like me.” He chuckles. “Oh… you have no idea.” You smile. You bite your lip lightly, gripping his wrist. He grits his teeth, he’s getting close. He draws his hand back, squeezing your breast, earning a whine from you. “Rub your clit.” He breathes. You look up at him, raising your hand. “Gonna show you how good I can make you feel.” He breathes. He pulls you closer to him, holding your thighs at a good angle. Instead of full thrusts, he starts grinding his cock into you perfectly. He rubs right up against the spongy spot inside of you and a cry leaves your lips.

He wants to tell you to quiet down, but he doesn’t care who hears anymore. You’re his, all his. “Oh my god-“ you cry out, letting your head rest back on his desk. “So tight on me sweetheart.” He grits his teeth. He keeps the steady pace, and your legs shake slightly as he pushes you closer to your high. “I- I’m gonna cum Captain.” You breathe. He smiles, “cum for me baby, that’s a good girl.” He growls. “Keep rubbing your clit.” He breathes. He’s right there too, praying you’ll cum before him. You tilt your head back, body lurching forward as you reach your high, and once he knows he’s ridden it out for you, he starts thrusting again. It only takes a couple until he’s spilling into you with a groan. You’re breathing hard as he helps you up, standing between your legs still.

“You’re a bad girl you know that?” He laughs. You smile. “Just for you though, Captain.”

“Good. Because I’m going to keep you to myself.” He laughs.

This was just the start of something scandalous.

[neoarchipelago]

Just saw a TikTok where a kid send their favorite stuff animal to his dad who's deployed. Just imagine this happening with 141 🥺 (I'm actually sending this to my favorite writers hoping I can get a cute scenario 😅)

That sounds adorable... I melted at the thought. Sorry it got very angst with Ghost but I'm feral for this man and I'd give him babies any time he wants.

Warning: slight NSFW, f!reader, angst and comfort

Price:

Price would frown but have a little smirk, watching the recruit hand him a cardboard box. His smile spreads when he notices figures of who it is from.

He wouldn't mind opening it in front of the team. They'd be busy bickering anyway.

He swears his heart stops for a second and he sees the soft thing. He could recognize it in the middle of the battlefield, the awful thought putting a ping of anger in his heart.

He'd be silent for a moment, looking at the round pink thing, his mind instantly wandering home, to you and your daughter.

He took the tiny note, scribbled a bit. "Keep you company daddy. Love, mom and me"

He swears he could cry right now.

He keeps it in his barracks, hidden so well no one ever glanced at it until he left. He wouldn't dare taking it with him, not wanting to soil it with he horrors of the battlefield.

He hugs it at night, until the day he returns, his daughter running to him as he holds the stuffed animal who kept his sanity strong.

He makes sure to worship you that night, thanking you silently for making him the happiest man on earth. In the morning you're sore but oh so happy. He whispers sweet nothings as he helps prepare breakfast, thanking you for giving him a daughter and home to come to.

Soap:

Soap would be thrilled to see the box for him. He wouldn't even wait to open it, under the amused gazes of the team.

He'd smile brightly at the sight of the little shark, immediately taking the note to read it out loud "to help you fight daddy!"

He run around the room, holding it up in the air, voicing to his team how happy he was, how proud of his son and how he absolutely loved you for giving him such a gift .

He'd keep it at all times at base. The round thing on the table in front of him during meetings.

He calls it Sergeant Sharky, everyone starting referring it by the same name.

At night he hold it tight, it's more intimate. He can let himself feel the way he misses home, almost tearing up. He knows you're waiting for him at home, probably preparing for his arrival.

He swears he's the happiest man alive.

When he gets home he tells stories of Sergeant Sharky on the battlefield (never anything gory) his boy being in absolute amazement over how his favorite stuffed animal was a hero with his dad.

He absolutely ravages you that night, almost begging you for another kid, begging to make him a daddy again. He just praises you for being the best mama, the best wife. He has you limping by morning as he holds his son, running around with him as he winks at you, subtly hinting to his son to ask you for a sibling.

Gaz:

I feel like gaz would open it with the team too. Though he'd be much more hidden and private about it.

He immediately smiles when he sees the little white bear inside of the box. He can't help the sadness and yearning he feels almost immediately.

The images of you, laughing in the morning as his son jumps on the bed to wake him up makes his throat burn slightly.

He found the indulging gaze of Price who noticed the fluffy thing.

He'd read the note to himself, hiding it from anyone's gaze.

"to take care of you daddy" he has to blink away the blurriness.

He'd be more secret about it, but as soon as his in his tent the toy is with him at all times. He finds himself sometimes talking to it. "Yeah... I miss home too. We'll go back to them."

He finds himself with a new strength, the battle almost feeling less heavy on him. He's doing it for you. For his son. To try and make the world a better place.

He almost runs home from the airport, throwing the front door open, bags dropping to the floor as you see him. Your mouth opens slightly, shocked, but he sees the relief in your eyes. He kisses you deeply, the sound of tiny running footsteps from the hallway making his heart stammer in his chest.

He's home. That night he makes love to you, lovingly, sweetly and with such love that you find yourself crying and clinging to him. He finds himself absolutely loving the way your son runs into the room by morning, waking him up. He doesn't give a shit how tired he is.

Ghost:

Oh god... Here I go...

When he's handed the box, he frowns. He immediately retreats to his tent to open it. He freezes when he sees the white and brown bunny.

He's scared to touch it. His gloves feel disgusting and tainted with horrors. He rips them off his hands, putting the box down on his bed to rush to wash his hands. They're clean, albeit sweaty but he just can't seem to shake away the feeling of blood on them.

When he finally let's himself touch the soft thing he holds it like it's the most fragile thing he ever touched. It shouldn't be here. So close to him when he's a monster right now.

The note breaks him. "Come back to us" it's your writing, she's too small to write. But there's a tiny sun scribbled in pencil next to it.

He rips off his mask bringing the bunny to his forehead as his head bows down, closing his eyes. He's crying. He feels guilty from being away from you. From his daughter. From home. Home that you allowed him, after he had thought he'd never be worthy of it.

It stays in his things. Hidden. He very rarely takes it out. Tries to not look at it too much. He's almost protecting it from even witnessing the base. Keeping it away from Ghost. That he tried to keep at the front door every time he came home.

When he gets home he needs time. It's always the same. He calls you, announcing that he is back. He takes 24h to remain on base, letting himself split from the battlefield. He needs time. You know it. You understood it.

When he gets home you notice something else this time. His eyes look at you with such adoration that you catch yourself almost hyperventilating. He often looks at you with love and care. But right now he looks at you like you were his goddess, his air and life essence. The same look he gives your daughter, like she's the only thing that ever matters to him.

He sits on the couch later, handing the bunny to his daughter who beams at the sight of her bunny back. He softly thanked her for sending the bunny to him. Softly explains that she should keep it home, it'd get dirty with daddy. You noticed the subtle message underneath his words. You want to hug him. But of course she understands. Such a clever girl.

He fucks you passionately and hard. He marks you with hickeys and bites, he gets lost in you, lost in your scent, the soft sheets are freshly clean. Your moans anchor him to his new found paradise.

He's got a small need to breed you again. But he'd talk to you about it. Beg on his knees if necessary, hoping that you'd be merciful to grant him another miracle. (As if he needed to do anything else but simply ask. Like you weren't the one who'd kneel for him if he asked.)

If you were the one to start the conversation, about, perhaps, maybe, if there was a chance, at some point "just spill it out love" "I want a baby... Again"

Absolutely feral. Literally throws your pill to the trash. It's on.

Doesn't let go of his daughter for days. She's in heaven as daddy holds her whenever she wants, reads her stories and plays with her. He keeps bending you over the nearest surface if she's napping or playing at a family's house (extremely rare, he's a protective wolf over her)

Spoils her rotten, he feels so guilty for leaving for such long periods of time. Spoils you as well.

[konigsblog]

rapist-soap thots™️...

cw: non-con, rape, black mail, toxic-soap.

dead dove: do not eat. 🪦🕊️

he swears it's not his fault, that he couldn't resist seeing you so vulnerable, but he knew fully about his sickening desires and twisted, disturbed fantasies, the ones he'd get off to in the middle of the night, thinking about having his way with you. his fat, thick cock leaked pre onto his calloused, scarred hand, fat globs of his milky, hot release dripping from his fingertips, chanting your name breathlessly through hoarse growls and deep grunts.

he'd snuck into your barracks, already peeling away your panties, removing them from your already barely covered figure. it was as if you desired him; desperately wanted him to do this to your poor, weak body, and fuck, he wasn't gonna miss out on an opportunity like this, bonnie... :(

when he began rutting, the tears began flowing – rolling down your cheeks as your breathing began to quicken, causing you to cry and sob out through the agony that all hit your body at once. panties stuffed in your mouth, you drooled and slobbered all over them, slick cunt having the instinct to clutch and latch onto his weeping, veiny shaft, arousal dripping from your warm wetness despite your wails of pain and agony.

you didn't even turn around out of pure terror, you didn't expect johnny to be the one causing and inflicting this pain and torture onto you – being so inhumane, his breathing laboured, sucking in a sharp breath. you only recognised him at the sound of his rough, tired voice, his attempt at coddling you and soothing your fear, rubbing your sensitive nub in small circles to hopefully help with the ache between your supple, tight thighs. your body jerked and twitched, in an attempt to fight him off, all to no avail as he held your arms down by your biceps, pinning them to the bed as he pounded into your sopping wet, raw hole.

he'd pried you open, forcing you to take every, single, fucking inch he had to offer your sweet, sweet soul. you cried, for mercy, for sympathy, to be treated like a soldier, but all he did was chuckle and hold your head down against your mattress, ramming into you with an agonising, rough pace ‘til he got what he'd been dreaming of all this time.

you poor soul. you didn't notice his phone recording; recording your wet pussy taking every inch of his hard, stiff cock, and the sounds of your moans and cries in the background... surely, you wouldn't want this to circle the entire base, right?

better make it up to him, you were so disobedient and misbehaved, sucking him off as compensation for your struggling and misbehaviour would be fair, right? :(

[fixfoxnox]

Okay I was thinking about Roach again (big surprise I know) and I was specifically thinking about his callsign.

Usually the story I go with for how Roach God his callsign is simply because he's so prone to mishaps on missions (nearly falling off a cliff, having a building break under him, etc) but always makes it out alive he ended up getting dubbed as being "just like a Roach." And thus, the callsign.

However, I was thinking about the theory that I've seen some people drop about him getting his callsign because he survived several explosions or even one big one. And during explosions the Roaches always seem to come out alive. But, more specifically, that Roaches are far more resistant to radiation than humans. Meaning nuclear radiation.

Now some of yall probably know where I'm going with this, but for those of yall that don't, let me tell yall about a little guy named Paul Jackson.

Paul Jackson is one of the 2 main characters of the original modern warfare and he and several others end up dying when a nuke is set off. I really enjoy pairing Jackson and Roach together as friends and while I would usually place Roach as a former US Army Ranger, perhaps he was USMC. With Jackson.

Consider Roach having been present during the push on OpFor in the middle east. He's in the same squad as Jackson or possibly even worked under Griggs. When the nuke gets set off, Roach is one of the people in on of the planes that gets knocked down by the aftershocks. He's one of the only one's to survive the crash. He's got to navigate his way through enemies, dangerous terrain, and the danger of spreading radiation to get to safety.

Roach comes out of it alive and gets his callsign because of it.

Alternatively I also love the idea that he got his callsign because he's terrified of Roaches and screamed when he saw one crawling across the floor in the barracks. Thats probably the more realistic one lol

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is his own warning, manipulation, Dark!Coriolanus Snow, Gave Coriolanus Snow a middle name for the sake of the last scene in the story

Growing up, it was always Coriolanus, Sejanus, and you. You three were always friends. And then one day, Sejanus started to see you as more than a friend and admitted his crush on you, which caused you to become a couple. But while you two were navigating your blossoming feeling for each other, you remained close friends with Coryo.

Maybe too close, considering you did some things with him that you probably should've done with Sejanus…

In fact, Coriolanus was both your best friend and Sejanus' best friend. Which was both weird and awkward when it came to couple fights, since both you and Sejanus would run to Coryo with your problems about each other. The blonde boy always took your side though.

ALWAYS

But maybe that was because of how he felt for you…

And when Coriolanus was caught cheating to save Lucy Gray, who both you and Sejanus thinks he fell for (if you only knew who Coriolanus truly loved, you'd shit a brick), and sentenced to serve 20 years as a Peacekeeper, well your boyfriend, Sejanus, decided to enlist and go with him. That was a hard pill to swallow, but at least you're able to say your goodbyes to Sej. With Coryo, well, he was carted off after Dean Highbottom gave him his sentence. It was a damn miracle that Strabo Plinth, Sejanus' Pa, was able to find out what happened to Coriolanus and where he was being sent to.

So, now, you're all alone. Well, not exactly since you do have your mother, Sejanus’ Ma, and the Snow's (Grandma'am and Tigris). But the fact was that you felt like you're alone. Your older brother's a peacekeeper that’s an officer in 12 and he promised you that he'd look out for your boys. For your best friend, Coryo, and your fiance (yes, Sejanus asked you to wait for him and gave you a ring).

You write to them all the time, call them whenever you can too. And every time the phone rings, you run to it like you're in a marathon (your mother just rolls her eyes at you and puffs on her cigarette from her spot on the tattered sofa) to talk to whichever boy was able to call. Sometimes it's your brother calling; he usually teased you for the deflated tone he gets whenever you always tell him, “Oh, Rein, it's just you.”

Coriolanus was packing up his things, Sejanus' things too, since he was leaving. Headed to District 2 for Officer training. He figured that he'd hold onto his friend’s things until he was able to return to the Capitol to give them back to the Plinths. There was also a trinket in Sejanus' lockbox that you have him; Coryo knew he'd have to give that back too.

“Snow, I haven't told my sister about Plinth yet.” A voice rang out in the barracks accompanied by the sound of boots heavily hitting the floor.

Standing up and turning to look at your older brother, Rein, Coriolanus knowingly told him, “You want me to do it.”

“You're her best friend; was also best friends with Plinth, so I think the news about what happened should come from you.”

The platinum blonde nodded. “I'll tell her once I'm settled in 2; have a chance to use the phone.”

“They were engaged, you know.” Rein told your best friend, to point out how serious things were with you and Sejanus; how serious everything is now surrounding the topic of his death.

Coriolanus did know that, and he hated that. He hates how Sejanus slipped a ring on your finger; convinced you to wait 20 whole fucking years for him.

“Yes, I know.”

“Just, let her down gently about this. You're her best friend; you know how much he meant to her.”

“I'll do everything in my power to help her during her grieving period, you have my word.” Coriolanus assured your brother. And he meant it to, he was going to do everything in his power to help you; make you move on.

It turns out that Coriolanus didn't get sent to District 2 for officers training after all, but sent back to the Capitol. Well, he was actually summoned back by Dr. Gaul herself. He had a private meeting with her and learned he was being honorably discharged and that Strabo Plinth was making him his heir all in the wake of Sejanus death. All because he sided with the Capitol, turned in his best friend as a traitor to the nation.

But, was Sejanus truly his best friend? No, not really. Now, you on the other hand…you're his real best friend. Oh, and you're also the girl he's going to marry now that your pesky fiance's out of the way.

So, after his meeting with Dr. Gaul, Coriolanus went straight to your apartment- on the 8th floor of his Corso building.

He hopes that your mother won't answer. Coriolanus doesn't particularly care for Helenium. Doesn't respect her despite the fact that she's your mother. Much to his relief, then the door opened you're the one standing in the threshold.

“Coryo! You're back?” You exclaim, jumping him and wrapping your arms tightly around his tall, sinewy body- as if he'll disappear if you don't hold him.

Coryo found himself relaxing in your arms as he wrapped his around you; pulling you tighter against him. He buried his nose in your hair, inhaling the smell of vanilla and…oh yes, how fitting, roses. Seems like in his absence you've missed him so much that you bought a new shampoo to remind him of you.

Don't even try telling him that Sejanus bought it for you before he left. He won't believe it. He's such a narcissist, obsessive, possessive bastard that Coryo will believe his own delusions before your truth.

Better get used to that, cause you're in it for the long haul now…

“Yea, I'm back, darling.” Coryo replied, relishing in your intoxicating scent. A scent that he'll have by his side for the rest of his life now.

Pulling back slightly and looking up at him hopefully, you ask, “Is Sej with you?”

Coriolanus' face fell (an act, feigning sadness- but you didn't know that) and he told you, “I'm so sorry, darling, but he's gone.”

“What do you mean ‘he’s gone’, Coryo?” You asked, desperately hoping that he didn't mean what you thought he meant. That your fiance wa-asnt dead…

“Y/N, little dove, maybe we should go inside; sit down.”

And that's when you knew what he meant by ‘hes gone’. Sejanus was dead and Coriolanus was at your door delivering the news because it'd be best if it came from him. Your best friend, Sejanus’ best friend, the man who understood how this would break you.

“No! No-no-no! No…” You cried. “He can't be dead, Coryo. I was gonna wait for him- he can't be dead! He promised me…”

“Shh…” Coryo wrapped his long arms around you, pulling you tightly to his chest; letting your tears stain his grey dress uniform. “I got you, baby. I got you.” He softly whispered.

You didn't even notice the new endearment that he just used for you. No, you’re too caught up in your grief that it went right over your head.

But now Coriolanus Snow, new heir to the Plinth fortune (unknown to you) is calling you baby. His baby. Oh, how you don't even stand a chance. He's already got you stuck in his web, the name baby is just the beginning.

Coryo's been wiggling his way into your life under the guise of being your shoulder to cry on. He claims that the two of you can grieve together, since the both of you loved Sejanus in your own ways. You as a lover and him as a brother.

Yea…

Coriolanus loved Sejanus like a brother alright…

Like Cain loved Abel!

The more time you spent with the platinum blonde the more you grew dependent on him- emotionally. But you weren't aware that Coryo's become your emotional support animal.

No…

But your mother, well she noticed. She noticed and she doesn't like it. Doesn't think it's appropriate.

No…

Not with how you spend more nights with Coriolanus in his Penthouse then in your own 8th floor Corso apartment, or how you hang on every word; every move the platinum blonde man makes. No, your mother thinks you shouldn't be so dependent on the angelic looking devil.

But your mother's never liked Coryo. She's always had a bad feeling about him. The fact that he both looked and acted like his late father, General Crassus Snow, unnerved her. Made your mother dislike him; perhaps even fear for your soul when you're around him.

So, one day when you walk thru the door of your mother's apartment, Coriolanus right behind you with a couple of shopping bags in his hand (he'd taken you on a shopping spree to get a few things for the upcoming fall semester of the University. Yes, he convinced Strabo to pay for your tuition as well as his.) she rounded on you, not holding back her shame, displeasure, and disappointment.

“How can you just galavant around with the devil himself when you should be mourning? Mourning the very man that Peacekeeper Pete over here prolly had a hand in stringing up!” Your mother shrieked, waving her cigarette holder in your face as Coriolanus kicked the door shut behind you both with the heel of his black floor shines.

“Mother…” You heavily trailed off, feeling guilt start to weigh on your chest. What would Sejanus think right now if he saw you, only a couple months after his death, seemingly moving on with his best friend?

For fuck’s sake, you took off your ring last night, stayed the night with Coryo in his bed, fucked him too.

Gosh…you're such a bad person, aren't you?

And Coryo…taking on the burden of loving you can't be easy. Trying to fulfill some duty to his best friend. But your mother's accusing words- claiming that he had a hand in Sej’s death, hurt worse than if she would've stabbed your eyeball out with a fork.

Coriolanus' icy eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. He appeared at your side, shoving the bags into your hands, only to seethe, “Don't you dare shame us for healing and finding a shred of happiness during our horrible time, Helenium. We both loved Sejanus; both lost him.”

“Oh, yes, I can see that you're healing just fine. Is rolling around in the sheets apart of that healing process too? And don't deny it, my daughter wouldn't be so far up your ass and spending night after night at that penthouse of yours unless you're giving her a dicking.”

Your lips quivered and you started to cry. A down right ugly cry full of guilt. Your mother's words cut you right to the bone like a sharp blade.

Coriolanus, seeing you crying your beautiful eyes out, decided then and there to take you away from your mother's apartment.

Forever.

“You’ve gone too far, Helenium. Saying such vile things.” Coriolanus icily told your mother. Wrapping his arms around you, pulling you protectively into his chest, he tenderly told you, “You're coming with me, my darling. I'm not going to stand for you living in such hostile conditions with you mother.”

You felt so hurt by your mother's words that you just nodded into Coryo's chest, clutching the handles of the bags tightly, as he lead you out the door.

Your mother looked so furious, so betrayed. She also couldn't believe what just happened. That you let Coriolanus Snow manipulate you into blinding yourself from the blunt truth she was telling you. That you believed him when he painted her out to be the villain.

A few months later a beautiful June wedding was held. Right after the end of the University’s spring semester. It was infact your wedding to Coryo, the man that had helped you heal and fall in love again. The man that had broken your wings by sending your fiance to the hanging tree, only to bury himself deep into your skin- making you dependent on him to the point that he set your broken wings; made you love him.

And when you walked down the aisle of the rose gardens Coriolanus had constructed in the park you both played in as children, well, not one of your remaining blood relatives were there. Your mother wasn't invited and your brother's invitation was revoked when he requested to bring his girl with him- a petite thing he met at the Hobb im District 12.

Coriolanus wasn't going to let your mother ruin his wedding day by objecting; he wasn't going to let your brother bring his ratty district whore to his wedding either.

No, his wedding to you would be flawless. Would be everything that he's ever dreamed of.

Too bad that you couldn't see how he manipulated you during your grieving state to fall in love with him. But did it really matter? You're marrying the man that loves you so much that he's both possessive and obsessive- to the point where he’d kill for you.

Well, he has killed for you. He sent his best friend to the noose in order to claim you for himself.

Isn't that one helluva deep running love…

At least you're marrying a man who's devoted to you, who'll take his vows seriously. At least he'll never forsake you.

But you love him too; even convinced yourself that you love him more then you ever loved your late fiance, Sejanus. You even believe that Sejanus was just puppy love, but Coryo's your true love. That since he was there for you during your grieving period, doing everything in his power to make you happy despite feeling the loss of his best friend, you believe he's the one that's love is eternal- burns bright for you.

If you only knew how bright, how hot his love burns for you…

Well…

It doesn't matter. All that matters is that you and Coryo are in love and swearing yourselves to each other in marriage. That he'll love you, cherish you, protect you; give you children that he'll be a firm, but loving father too- because they'll be your children. All that matters is the vows you swear to each other in front of the officiant (none other than Dr. Gaul herself), the rings (that had once belonged to his parents) that you slip onto each other's fingers, and the kiss you share when Coryo's prompted to kiss his bride.

“And now I pronounce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Coriolanus Xerxes Snow.” Dr. Gaul announced to the guests gathered around to witness you and Coryo’s marriage underneath a white gazebo with red, white, and pink roses entwining around it.

There's an old song from a pre-Panem band that goes:

… So take these broken wings

And learn to fly again

Learn to live so free

And when we hear the voices sing

The book of love will open up

And let us in

Ironically, it fits your situation with your Coryo perfectly.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about Price and the kinks he likes to indulge in

Pairing: John Price x Top Male reader

Content tags: 18+, MINORS DNI, blowjobs, anal sex, hard dom! Male reader, sub! Price, possessiveness, make up sex, price likes to be photographed while nude?

Thinking about Price, who’s set on keeping his private life and work life separated, but then there’s a drawer in his desk, containing an album full of Polaroid pics, taken of him in many different obscene positions.

There’s one that’s taken in his dorm, with Price on all four, orange sunlight beaming over his skin, and with cum smeared between his thighs and cheeks. His neck is cranked to face the lens and there’s a dopey smile on his face.

BACK IN THE BARRACKS

It had been a long day at work, with him feeling more frustrated than usual. He had showed up to your room acting like a dark cloud was clinging onto his form.

You had offered to help him unwind, shoved him onto the bed and made him cum multiple times. There was one point where his body felt separated from his mind, feeling everything and nothing all at once. In the haze he heard your voice, honey coated words telling him to “turn around John”

He hadn’t even had the time to process, body reacting on reflex as a flash passed by his eyes and before he knew of it you had a nude Polaroid of him laying around.

Soon enough another Polaroid joined the ever growing collection.

There’s nothing tender about the picture. Your tags hang around his throat, with you clutching onto them to pull him closer for the shot. His skin is all marked up, lips rubbed red and eyes wide, as he takes your cock as far down his throat as he can.

A MOUTHFUL AND A HANDFUL

He doesn’t remember if you’d been in the middle of an argument, Polaroid taken amidst a moment of what was supposed to be make up sex but he remembers the flux of emotions bubbling in his gut, voice hoarse from continuously sucking on your cock with black and blue knees that was a result from the minutes spent kneeling.

Despite the rough vibe he didn’t mind, wanted to please you as much as he could even when you stripped him off of his title as captain and lover and treated him nothing but a gaping hole meant for your pleasure only.

Then a third Polaroid joined the collection, one he’s very much fond of.

It’s a picture of him sprawled out on your sheets, wearing nothing but a shirt with your last name on it. His legs are spread obscenely wide, and there’s a teal green plug nestled inside his ass, with streaks of cum staining the black material of the shirt.

MY JOHN

That day he remembers well, a shot prompted by your jealousy. Someone had attempted to flirt with Price, which wasn’t a crime, since they didn’t know he was a taken man. That’s at least what he had said when you had confronted him about it but you hadn’t been able to let it go especially when the person had been set on taking him out to dinner.

He had declined of course, showed up to your room to sooth the burn but didn’t know he’d be engulfed in the flames as soon as he had crossed the threshold.

You had pinned him to the bed, face determined and goal set. You were going to remind your boyfriend that you could offer him everything he’d ever need whether that be with three fingers thrusting into his slicked up hole, or perched on your face and riding your tongue or having him cum so many times on your cock he ends up losing count.

That very day he had only been able to remember your name, your cock, your face, hadn’t even be able to recall who you were talking about when you’d mentioned the person trying to take him out on a date.

Needless to say, Price likes to keep his private life and work life separated, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like to indulge in things in his own way

(Bonus: it’s impossible for him to look at this picture without him getting hard. He’ll wrap a hand around his dick, jerking himself til he’s inching closer to his release, before ropes of cum end up all over the Polaroid pictures.)

[raayllum]

It's not structurally sound, so Zym walks beside him, one wing tented protectively over his head just in case. At least that's what Soren said, eyes still with a fading yellow hue to them, traces of magic still stubbornly clinging on when Ezran had finally arrived.

The sky was still grey, flecked with smoke and embers, Callum slamming into him in a banther hug before Ez had even gotten his bearings—both sobbing a little, exhausted, relieved. Callum cupping his baby brother's cheeks and brushing away tears, till—Ezran had spotted him lurking over Callum's shoulder, dressed in greens and all too terribly alive.

The shouting match that had followed hadn't been pretty, but—

Opeli had stepped in. Soren had ushered everyone else away.

"He just needs some time to mourn," Corvus murmurs.

Ez had cried at the wedding, and cried on the way home. The putrid air stings his eyes now as he walks amongst the ruins, though no tears fall. His eyes are too full of something else, reconstructing everything around him perfectly. There's where the eastern tower stood before it crumbled into the courtyard. The balcony by the king's chambers where Ez had taken his first steps, toddling confidently towards his father's face. Half the battlements are blasted apart, barracks and weapons in splintered disarray. The rest of the castle isn't in much better shape.

His family's home, his family's legacy, all the precious things he hadn't taken with him to New Aurea, because why would he have? A box of mementos from his mother—the tie from her braid, a pressed flower from her wedding bouquet, a letter she'd written and sealed for him for his sixteenth birthday—buried in ash. Burnt to a crisp.

Every portrait of his father, his throne, his... A lump rises in his throat.

Gone.

It's all gone.

Opeli has the grim work of consulting everyone to make a list of the dead, all the guards and servants and people—families—wiped out. Ez knows there will be names he recognizes. Even worse, there will be names he doesn't, people who lived and died here, in his castle, in his kingdom, and as king, he didn't even—

His vision blurs as he picks his way over charred brick, Zym following dutifully behind him with a tiny whine. He staggers over the collapsed walls, the massive pile, but picks out a spindle of what he knows is a rocking chair, sticking out from the side.

"My mother sat here," he explains to Zym, sitting down slowly on the pile of bricks. It's as comfortable a seat as anything else could be. "When she rocked me to sleep." He sniffles. His shoulders shake. "This was my nursery, Zym."

His Dad had kept it preserved, just for him. For whenever you want to feel close to her. And after his Dad's death, to both of them.

Zym presses his snout to Ezran's arm as they settle together, his castle consumed by dragon fire.

Ezran weeps in the middle of his nursery.

This is where tiny children are supposed to cry, after all.

[callsignvenomcod]

a soft life

Prompt: Retired! Simon Riley. A slow life in a Manchester farm.

warning: mentions of PTSD, mentions of cartel related violence, mentions of violence, MDNI.

PS: Opening line is from the book "Jarhead" (2001) by Anthony Swofford.

______________________________________________________________

A story.

A man fires a rifle for many years, and he goes to war. And afterwards he returns the rifle in at the armory, and he believes he's finished with the rifle. But no matter what else he might do with his hands, love a woman, build a house, change his son's diaper; his hands remember the rifle.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets.

For a long time, it was hard to convince himself he deserved to grow old. It might have been a given fact to some other people but not for those in the military, not for Ghost, at least; not after Tommy and Beth, or Las Almas or Johnny. It took him a lot of time to be grateful to be almost 40. For several reasons, he never saw himself living past 20.

And now he was opening up the crates of the chickens he kept in his very own farm, a piece of land he actually owned, without a mask on, very far away from the bullet sounds and a barrack, from the mud and the camo, away from everything and everyone, not sound in the horizon but the chickens and Riley, the border collie dog he got, barking at a three somewhere in the distance.

He retired the summer he turned 40, there was a ceremony and everything, with Laswell and Price and he got more chest candy that would eventually end up in a wooden chest, never to be seen again, under the bed. There wasn't a reason, he just had to. He was in his prime, physically, but his mind was made of glass lately, everything rubbed him the wrong way, couldn't even train recruits without snapping too hard at them, making them quit, yell at them too much, scare them too much, beat them up to a pulp too much.

Every man in the military had a story. A life before, a life after. And in the middle, sand, or mud, or just camo. A war that last years, a mission that lasts hours. Silence and nosie.

He, like other recruits, like other Sergeants, Lieutenants, Colonels, had shadows over them. It took months for him to stop looking over his shoulder while doing the big shop on a sunday, started going to those overnight groceries store to shop alone instead. The butcher's reminded him both of his adolescence and the carnage he had caused, flinched whenever he saw a mohawk kid walking down the street, looked twice sometimes only to find a stranger.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets, aye.

He turned in his paperwork and retired silently with lots of medals under his name, lots of dead men and probably women under his knife, missing friends, missing nerves and too scarred to be a model now. Ha.

Oh, and Y/N's wanted to get away at some point anyway.

Y/N. The last drink he never should have had, the cut that made him hide his face, and the party that made him feel his age. Pulp's words, not his. All it took was a few nights shopping at the Tesco she was working in as a cashier, late night shift, for them to become acquainted.

A year of mutual pinning, a single night in which Y/N placed the bourbon bottle and the batteries inside of the paper bag and looked up at Simon, change in hand (because he paid in cash always, no traces behind) and smiled at him. COVID had made it easier to transition from the skull balaclava to a medical mask and then to a bare face, so Simon looked at her behind the black medical mask and stared at her while she opened her mouth.

-Why do bees have sticky hair?

Simon blinked, looking down at her. -Pardon?

No line behind him. It was the first time the cashier talked to him other than "Goodnight" and "Drive safe", or "It will be 5.66, please". There was a faraway sound of some sort of 80's American pop music, something to pass time by. Simon had noticed her since the first time he came into this very same Tesco a few months ago, had noticed how she sang along whatever music was on, how her Tesco blue uniform looked too big on her, making her look insanely small and slinky. He noticed how she was always almost without a medical mask and whenever she used it, it was laced around her chin; he noticed short, clean nails, and a heart necklace over her chest, a pair of dazzling dove eyes, full hips, a belly.

He really noticed the full hips.

The girl fucking giggled and repeated. She must had a bit of Irish in her judging by the sound of her accent. Simon felt as awkward as a teenage boy in front of any girl ever -Why do bees have sticky hair?

The man shook his head, still confused, a quid in his hand.

-Because they use a honeycomb.

Ah, a woman after his own heart. Such a lame joke.

He snorted out a laugh.

It simply slipped and he memorized the name tag before grabbing his shopping bag and shaking his head, hearing her giggle behind him as he exited the store, and he came back two days later after convincing himself he needed two jars of red bean jam instead of the usual one.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets.

And now she sleeps here; and Simon had stared at her sleeping form wondering how much time it would take for her to start hating his way of loving, of being, how many times he would go silent on the phone, a bad texter, a worst caller, how he hated crowded places and loud noises and most of their dates happened in her flat, when her roommate was out, staring silently at a film on TV, her friends thinking she's getting her brains fucked out by an experienced, older, lust thirst Vet when in reality, Ghost was gathering up the courage to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

And now she sleeps here.

In the crook of his neck, his thigh over his hip, wild hair all over the bed, sometimes inside his mouth because he stopped using a mask a while ago.

In the mornings, tangled in their bed, warm sheets, the soft breeze of Riley sleeping under the bed, her sweet sweat and vanilla scented skin under his, it took Simon a few seconds to realize he was sleeping in the company of someone; in the arms of a woman and in his own bed, a king size bed with soft white sheets that were washed and changed every 5 days, not a twin bed in a barrack, that his years of active service were over, not forgotten, as if, but that he could allow himself to become whatever he might end up becoming if the 141 didn't happened.

-Come here, boy. Come here, Riley. Yeah, yeah...- said Simon scrunching down to caress right behind Riley's ear, the dog sticking out his long tongue and barking of joy mixed with the hyper sense of his breed, the soldier being careful not to break the eggs he held in a small basket. Simon had found him a puppy a few months ago, seemed like years really, in a litter box with 6 of his brothers and sisters, a beat-up cardboard sign reading "For adoption." And Simon picked up the only one with a lazy ear. He knew deep down that Y/N would appreciate that and simply put him in the passenger seat of the black Bronco truck he owned and drove all the way back home. -You're up early, eh? You having breakkie with us?

He had fallen into a comfortable routine now. He would wake up, crawl over Y/N's sleeping figure, careful not to wake her with the crack of dawn, 5AM with the BBC on his headphones, a 6'2 shadow jogging through the hills of the outskirts of Manchester, for an hour only the dark of the road, the eventual baby blue of the sky, the warmth of the sun. Sometimes Riley was up for it, sometimes he stood behind cuddled up in their room. And upon his return he would work out in their driveway for another hour, noticing the growing presence of what the media now called a "Dad Bod" (Y/N's words, not him) and eventually hearing soft barefoot steps coming from the room.

There was tea for two before he had to head out, get some tasks done, and a soft kiss hanging from Y/NS plush lips, and he would always try to push it, try his luck. He would smile against it, whispering "Good morning..." with a lazy voice, hands on Y/N's full hips, kneading them, in need of them, and Simon would press up with hard on against her stomach, while deepening the kiss.

It never failed to make her wet. It never failed to make her forget the kettle on the fire for a minute and simply give into his kiss, his embrace; him, overall. Simon would pick her up, easily, laid her on the counter, and her robe would open for him, with or without his help, and she was always so wet for him, so ready to do it.

-Simon...- she will say. - Breakfast...

And he wasted no time into twisting her words, dropping to his knees as if he was in the presence of a saint, of a virgin, of the end of the world, staring at her glistening cunt first thing in the morning, looking up with the adoration she deserved; she would gulp and argue it was not what she meant but she would recoil and whimper when Simon stuck his tongue inside his cunt anyway, overlapping her folds, blissfully eating her out before the sun was completely out.

The dog kept barking all the way down to the house, past the barn and the driveway, the small stable with the one horse they had, the pen he was building to eventually own sheep, and Simon felt the cold breeze of the early morning seeping through his black knit sweater and his jean jacket, as he walked all the way across the grass fields and into his porch, the swinging chair Y/N liked to read in, in a need of a reparation.

-Right...- he whispered to himself seeing the hammer he left outside to remind himself to fix the damn chair, bloody hell. Riley's nose peeked through the front door, opening it with ease and technique allowing themselves in, and the cold of the outside world was quickly gone.

Simon stepped into a cozy home, with a color palette he would have never picked, all warm yellows and oranges, pinks and whites, and soft cushions, warm blankets, a picknick turntable in the coffee table; and music, soft music he didn't recognize coming from it, a spinning record on it with yellow and pink lyrics, a girl signing about a loved one, and another voice, a present one, horribly trying to sing along.

He snorted out a laugh when Riley started barking and the voice was interrupted abruptly.

-Simon?...- Radio silence. -Babe?

Oh, the sound of his name in her mouth.

He crossed his living room, stepping into the kitchen, holding four eggs in a small bowl, one from each hen they owned, and he stood in the door frame, just a tad taller than him, admiring the view. He had endured white missions in the Russian winter, literal months of the gruesome torture and gory tasks and they all suddenly made sense because there was a girl.

Ah, there was a girl, alright.

Today was English breakfast. No peas for him, no sausages for her. It was stereotypical but easy to make and no one was around to judge them anyway. Next house was a few miles down the road, and even the road was far away, the town was a 30-minute ride. It was their little bit of heaven. The man stepped in, handing her the basket like every other day and kissed her temple, as she grilled some tomatoes slice ups leaning back against him. His hands would find her hips again and she would yawn with intimacy, hair still a mess, thighs still sticky. -Teas on the table, love. It's gone get cold.

-Ah, it's alright...- he said, hugging her tightly, as she kept leaning on him. -Slow morning today, eh...

She had been there and stuck around whenever the PTSD started acting up. She was the one that loved him when he started going fucking mental; and stuck around when she found her burning up SAS gear, a lost look in his eyes as he did so. He would throw in a Ghost mask and watch it burn for a moment, before murmuring a shocked sob and reaching out into the flames to retrieve it. She stuck around while he drank too much bourbon sitting on the porch, skull mask on, his dogs' tags held so tightly his knuckles will go white with force. Y/N even stuck around when the nightmares came, and she would wake up to Ghost whimpering on his side of the bed, breaking a cold sweat, his jaw tight and her brows furrowed, screaming out "Johnny! Johnny!" before waking up in tears, in raged hot tears down his cheeks, short of breath, his head a full of bullet noises and sirens wailings, pictures of his team and the blood and the grease paint. A mess. A shaking shadow.

Every October 11, she will make sure to hold him a little tighter, kiss him a little softer, love him, if it was possible, a little louder.

And she was here now, cooking breakfast, no peas for him; now he was living a soft life, with tea every morning, and a dog named Riley, with soft hands that wondered around his chest whenever he thought about Soap too much, about Gaz and that helo. But she was here now, and she had no sausages today, as they sat down on their small chair in their small kitchen in their small farm. He was living a soft life, and he didn't think of himself as worthy of it, but he must have been done something good to have her cooking breakfast and sleeping in their bed and caressing their dog under the table.

Tomorrow, Ghost would ask her to come out to the porch to find her reading swing fixed and a wedding ring.

She's going to say yes.

He didn't heard the bullets anymore.

_____________________________________________________________

Hello! Venom here.

Thank you so much to anyone that's been liking my story.

Happy 2024!

[la-petite-lapin]

Unlikely Friendships | Part Two

Unlikely Friendships masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x single mum!reader Word Count: 3.4k Series warnings (may update between chapters): 18+, Minors DNI, single mother reader, mentions of violence, cannon-typical violence, injury description, shitty parenting (not by reader), swearing

He knew that it was pathetic. That the one and only thought on his mind as the field medics battled to patch up the gunshot wound in his shoulder was of you and Sunnie.

The 141 had been deployed to some far-flung corner of the globe, scouting for information on their upcoming, larger mission. Easy, they'd said. In and out, quiet - light work, really. But, that had gone down quicker than a lead balloon when one of the back-up guys had been discovered rooting around in the mainframes.

Thanks to Simon's quick thinking, the bullet had found a home in his shoulder as opposed to the middle of Gaz's forehead.

It was minor damage - by Simon's standards, anyway - and he begrudged the fact that they were all fussing over him. That he was likely going to have to take it easy for the next couple of weeks, at least. Then there was the fact that their op was definitely going to have to be postponed, especially now their targets had their hackles up.

So that was why he was still holed up in his quarters at the late hour of 10am, laid up under the sheets of his double bed with his good arm tucked under his head. Glancing across at his barren desk, devoid of any personal effects - much like the rest of his room - a glint of sunshine-yellow fur snagged his attention. He gazed at Mr Rabbit with a kind of reverence, a calm film passing in front of his thoughts, shutting out all of the usual, violent background noise.

He missed that kid; bold and chatty in the face of a monster such as himself.

He also missed you.

He wasn't too proud to admit it either; that he'd thoughts about Sunnie's cute mum almost every day since you'd met in the hallway. It wasn't even anything purely physical that had stood out to him at first. He'd been drawn to you like a man in the desert to water; lured in by the fiery passion in your eyes when you thought that your precious baby had gone missing - lost by her careless twat of a father,

He turned your name over again and again in his head. Thought about your perfect, plush lips moving as you said it. The way that you'd held yourself, tall and proud, hand on your hip - full of fire and...

It was that thought that finally dragged Simon out of bed, into the shower, and into some clean clothes. Once he was decent, he hauled himself into the rec room, greeted by post-workout Johnny and Gaz lounging on the overstuffed sofas.

It was no secret around the barracks that Gaz felt like shit for what had happened. He'd never been the lucky recipient of Simon's suicidal heroics before but, apparently, it was "fucking dreadful". All of the guilt and terror, and none of the actual, physical damage to boot.

Simon offered them a cheery wave but ducked straight past them before they could stop him, making a beeline for the second, much rowdier group occupying what was meant to be the 141's private room.

The secondary taskforce they'd thrown together to support on their upcoming op was gathered around the pool table at the back. That included Daniel Harper; just the man that Simon happened to be looking for.

As if sensing Simon's approach, the sergeant looked up from the game he was spectating on. "Oh hey, Ghost. How's the arm holding up, buddy?"

Simon stood, deathly still and stone-faced under the thick cotton fabric of his mask. He knew that he was intimidating - could see that familiar flash of fear in Sgt Harper's eyes. It was widely known by then that the guy who'd screwed up the op - a personal friend of Harper's - had been given the finest, public dressing down of his career by Price after they'd returned to base. Fortunately, he'd been removed from base by the time Ghost was up and prowling again. Though, the fear that he or another of the 141 might retaliate for the royal fuck-up still seemed to hang heavy amongst the secondary squad.

Sgt Harper gulped.

"Would be better if I hadn't been shot," Simon said emotionlessly.

The men playing at the pool table slowly lowered their ques. It was as if they were all holding their breath; waiting for him to do something.

Waiting to see a glimpse of the notorious Ghost come out to play.

"When's that daughter and ex of yours coming back to base?" Simon asked, tone giving away nothing of his intentions or mood.

The sergeant's expression switched to a confused one. One eyebrow raised, he cocked his head to the side. "I'm not too sure. Missus isn't too happy that I let the kid wander off."

He said it like it was an annoyance - like you were daft for not trusting him alone with your child. If anything, Simon thought you were damn right.

"Why'd you want to know anyway, Lt?" he continued, casting a glance back to his buddies with a smirk like he was about to say something tremendously funny. The look of a man who needed validation from others to feel secure in himself. "No offence, but you don't seem like the wife and kids type."

Simon damn-near snarled.

There the sergeant stood - some second-rate, low-rank tool - with no idea whatsoever about Simon's personal life or background. None of them did. He could be a family man for all they knew. He wasn't, but he could be. And - quite frankly - the dig at you, however subtle, was something he found disgusting. You were the mother of that idiot's child, separated or not, and that afforded you a certain level of respect, regardless.

The look of complete and utter calm in Simon's dead eyes shut off any murmurings before they could truly begin. "I have something of theirs. Need to return it."

Sgt Harper frowned, eyes still glittering with amusement at his own shitty attempt at humour. "Like what?"

"Mr Rabbit."

The sergeant's expression turned sour, not escaping Simon's notice. "Oh, that tatty old rag. She won't miss it." The gleam in his eyes turned to an irritated one as he added, "I keep telling the missus to stop buying her all that crap, but she never listens."

What a charmer you are, Simon thought with a sneer.

"I'd rather return it to the little one, if that's all the same to you," Simon replied coolly, letting just a hint of a threat creep into his voice.

Sgt Harper's face paled slightly and a deeply buried alpha-male part of Simon's brain purred with satisfaction. He couldn't stop the train of thought that followed; that if he were Sunnie's father, he'd buy her all the stuffed animals she could ever want. Not a helpful thought to have.

Growing impatient, Simon tapped his foot against the floor and grumbled, "So when are they back on base, Sergeant?"

He gulped, the column of his throat working with the effort. Gingerly, he said, "I could call the missus and ask her to swing by this weekend. Does that work for you?"

Simon nodded, satisfied. "That's fine by me."

Without a thank you or goodbye, Simon sauntered away from the pool table. Instead of heading back to the comfortable isolation of his quarters, however, he dropped down onto the sofa beside Johnny. Both lads were leaning forward, grinning like a pair of Cheshire cats. They'd both quite clearly been listening in on Simon's conversation.

"So... wha' was all tha' about?"

It had been weeks since Daniel lost Sunnie on base when he finally decided to man up and call you.

You'd made it clear to him that he wasn't going to see her without supervision for a while, especially not on the army base. Not that he'd seemed at all bothered by that; he didn't seem fussed at all. In fact, he'd made no effort to reach out and apologise, nor to check up on Sunnie and see if there'd been any lasting effects on her.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said as soon as the call connected. It was the same soothing, placating tone that he used to use when he wanted something from you. Recognising it set you on edge.

"What do you want, Daniel?" you replied coolly, immediately cutting through the bullshit. The sooner he got to the point, the sooner you could get on with your night.

"I was wondering... could you come to base with Sunnie this weekend?"

You glanced across to your right. Sunnie was curled up into your side on the sofa, a rerun of old Friends episodes playing on the TV as background noise. You'd been reading a book, now left forgotten, pages-down on the arm of the sofa in favour of scrolling through Tiktok on your phone.

Thankfully, your daughter had been okay since her adventure in the army barracks. In fact, she seemed to have almost forgotten about it, apart from talking incessantly about her new friend - Simon. She'd even started telling the other kids in her reception class about how Mr Rabbit was on holiday with the "big army man", as she called him.

But, most importantly, she didn't even seem aware that she'd gone missing for any period of time that day.

You exhaled a deep sigh. "Yes. But she's not staying there overnight."

"Okay, that's fine." There was a pause, and you could hear Daniel tapping his foot against something on the other end of the line. "Did you, uh... did you know that Ghost has been asking after you?"

Your brow furrowed. Who the fuck was Ghost?

"Who?"

"The 141 guy who found Sunnie," he grumbled, getting audibly pissy. "He kept asking me when you'd be back on base. Wants to give some stupid stuffed toy back to my daughter."

Anger seethed in your chest. The hand that wasn't holding your phone clenched into a fist at your side. Burning hot rage lanced through you, soothed only by running your fingers through Sunnie's hair. She stirred softly, reaching out a tiny hand to grab your leg - as though she were making sure that you were still there.

In her other hand, she clutched a rose-pink stuffed dragon - the ears, wings, and spines along its back glittering softly in the light of the living room lamp. Her chosen replacement in Mr Rabbit's absence.

Your heart ached as you watched her. That was another reason why you dreaded Sunnie having overnights with her father; his attitude towards childhood in general.

His parents had never let him have a proper one of his own - that much had been evident from the day you'd met them. Despite all of the reassurances that he'd given you when you'd gotten pregnant - placations of being better, of reading up on soft-parenting techniques and the like - he'd done nothing but mirror his parents' shitty attitudes since the day Sunnie was born.

He didn't believe in giving her toys that weren't educational ones, or letting her babble; constantly snapping at her to speak properly, even though she rarely babbled unless she was excited or tired. It had been one of the many reasons why you'd split up. Though there hadn't been a shortage of those.

"Daniel, I will say this one last time: our four-year-old daughter's toys aren't stupid," you said through gritted teeth.

He muttered something under his breath, clearly in the mood to argue. Before you could ask him to repeat himself, he said, "Oh, I see how it is. Any excuse to get back at me, huh? Think you'll get there by fucking the Lt? Go ahead - he won't go for it."

You blinked, stunned. Where the fuck did that come from?

"The guy's a fucking sadist," Daniel spat, saying your name to emphasise his point before jumping straight back into his unsolicited rant. "Don't want your or my daughter anywhere near him. I mean it. I won't stand for it."

Instead of dignifying any of what he'd just said with a response, you hung up. That was one bonus of being separated - you didn't have to listen to his rambling bullshit anymore. By the time you'd carried Sunnie to her room down the hallway, changed her into her favourite PJs and settled her into bed, you'd missed five calls from Daniel.

Padding back into the living room, you sat back down in your spot and closed your book. Not in the mood to fight with him, you opened up your messaging app.

You: Daniel, leave me alone. You: I don't want to talk to you right now.

Not even a minute later, your phone pinged with a reply.

Your fingers itched to open the app and have a look but, instead, you rolled your eyes and slid it across to the far side of the sofa. Whatever he had to say could wait for the weekend.

"Sunnie, come on!" you yelled, standing at the foot of the stairs with your hands braced on your hips.

Several loud thuds on the ceiling marked Sunnie's path upstairs as she bolted across her playroom.

"Sunnie! Hurry up or I'll leave without you!"

And that kicked her into action.

Within a matter of moments, Sunnie was bounding down the stairs - wearing her favourite dress with little bees stitched into the fabric, and a pair of bright pink trainers. She looked adorable, dead-set on looking good for what she deemed to be a playdate with her newest friend.

It had been all she'd talked about since you told her the other morning.

It had been Simon this, Simon that ever since.

Before long, she was strapped up into her car seat, ready for the journey to the base. Her chosen stuffed toy of the day - Mr Rabbit's mint green twin - was clutched in one little fist as she sat in the back, babbling away to herself. You couldn't help but smile; egged on by her excitement.

You weren't too proud to admit to yourself that you'd been more than a little excited to go to base too.

You'd been thinking about the tall, muscular giant of a man who'd found your daughter more and more recently - especially when you were alone at night. You found yourself drawn to the memory of that deep, baritone voice, those bright hazel eyes, and his odd choice to hide behind a balaclava; something that you could only assume was a safety or privacy thing. The taskforce was meant to be top-secret - perhaps that was how he maintained his anonymity.

Or maybe it was something else entirely.

"Mummyyyyyy," Sunnie's drawn-out whine came about fifteen minutes from the entrance gate.

You rolled your shoulders back, glancing up at the rearview mirror to check that she was okay. Content that she was fine, you flashed her a smile. "You okay, baby?"

She nodded and you quickly turned your focus back to the road. "Mummy, Simon said he looks funny."

You hummed softly under your breath.

"Did he, princess?" you asked absentmindedly.

A frown formed on your lips. Sunnie always had very big emotions. She felt everything; hid nothing. All of her emotions were worn on her face as and when she felt them and - while it made her an open book - it also meant that sometimes things ate at her. Like watching you and her dad argue, or when another child in her class felt upset about something.

She was the most caring, sweetest soul you'd ever known, and you were proud to call her your daughter.

"Maybe... maybe he just needs to be reminded that he'd beautiful," you suggested softly, not wanting to upset her any further. That maybe he'd never been made to feel pretty before, as a gruff, giant soldier.

You glanced in the mirror to watch Sunnie's face light up, her smile luminous. "Okay, mummy."

And that made you smile too.

"Ghost, you've got someone here to see you!" Price's gruff voice announced from the other side of his locked door.

Simon startled.

He was standing shirtless in front of his bathroom mirror, mask chucked on the side of the sink as he examined the healing bullet wound in his shoulder. He'd started going to the gym for morning training sessions with the boys again, and he'd managed to strain it a little. Nothing serious - the stitches had held - but the skin around the entry wound was a little red and tender to touch.

"Uh... coming!" he yelled back.

As quickly as he could with his injured arm, he tugged his black t-shirt back on and pulled his balaclava down over his head. Leaving the bathroom, he made a beeline for the door, stopping only to grab Mr Rabbit from his perch on the desk.

Simon undid the lock, swinging the door open to be greeted by...

A small, compact weight hurled itself at his knees, almost taking his legs out from under him.

"Sunnie!" a soft, feminine voice said admonishingly. He didn't even have to look to know that it belonged to you.

With a deep, throaty chuckle, Simon lowered himself down to his knees and pulled Sunnie in for a slightly awkward, one-armed hug on his good side. To his delight, she wrapped her arms around his waist and tightened her grip as much as her little body could manage.

"Mister Simon!" she squeaked.

"Hello again, princess," he said, running a fingernail along the seam of the stuffed rabbit's ear with his free hand. When she finally pulled away, he handed the toy back to the little girl. "I think this belongs to you."

Sunnie squealed with glee, pulling the sunshine-yellow rabbit into her arms for another bone-crushing hug.

"Hey, darling," Price said, his voice reminding Simon that there were, in fact, other people in the hallway around them. A gaggle of new recruits were staring at them, wide-eyed and awestruck, watching the feared Ghost interact so wholesomely with a small child. Price's eyes were focused on said child as he held out a scar-flecked hand. "How about we go and find you some ice cream?"

John looked to you for approval and you nodded, smiling kindly.

Dropping down to press a kiss to Sunnie's forehead, you told her to behave herself for the captain then watched as he led her off in the direction of the rec room. Only when they'd left your sight, did you finally turn your attention to Simon.

He could've sworn that his heart stopped beating in his chest as you fixed him with your warm gaze, lips curving up into the most beautiful, genuine smile he'd ever seen. The feeling didn't ease as your rose back up to your full height - still comically small beside him - and extended a hand for him to shake. He took it, wincing slightly at the feeling of his callouses scraping against your baby-soft skin.

"Hey, Simon," you said, still having yet to break eye contact. "It's nice to see you again."

He released your hand, easing back a half-step. He didn't know what to do; what to say now that you were right in front of him. He just stood awkwardly, trying not to stare at your mouth as he grumbled, "Nice to see you too. I, uh... I didn't know you'd be coming to see me."

His throat worked as he swallowed, the scent of your perfume lingering pleasantly in the air. It was nerves - honest to God nerves - that he was feeling.

Pitiful. Weak. Pathetic...

"I wanted to properly thank you for what you did last month," you explained.

Everything in your expression was open. He wondered if you knew just how similar you were to your daughter in that regard.

"We didn't get much chance to talk last time, and Sunnie talks very highly of you," you continued, a mischievous sparkle in your eyes. "You might be on your way to becoming her favourite person."

Simon could feel himself blushing under the mask. "Well... that's a first."

You chuckled. "Befriending a lost little girl who's wise beyond her years?"

He shook his head. "Being someone's favourite."

He'd meant it in a self-depreciating jokey kind of way, but the look on your face made him regret it. You looked fucking horrified.

"I- sorry. Didn't mean to make it depressing," he said with a grimace.

A long moment passed before you shook your head, that beautiful smile gracing your lips once again. Looping an arm through his uninjured one, you nudged him in the ribs.

"I think we should go and find somewhere in this place that does some decent coffee," you said cheerfully. "Something tells me we've both got a lot of stories to tell before Price brings Sunnie back for her playdate."

Preening at the sight of you so close to him, Simon grinned under the mask - the mention of this playdate completely sailing past his comprehension. "Sounds like a plan, sweetheart."

a/n: I'm a simple woman with simple tastes: I just want to see Simon in a tiara, playing tea parties with Sunnie :) Maybe I might make that happen in part 3... - lapetitelapin :)

[captainleviswifee]

If you dare...

Tags/TW/context (idk💀): Alcohol, sfw, y/n fem reader, reader is a squad leader, Attack on Titan, Levi Ackerman, lighthearted, established close friendship and partnership between you and Levi, you and Levi are in denial of your feelings for each other and Hange knows it, Hange is just lowkey tired of this back and forth.

Edit: you can use extensions, or apps to replace y/n with the name of your choice.

The night is blooming, the moon's graceful glow upon you and your comrades in the clearing of the Old Headquarters of the Survey Corps. The tall trees, both vivacious trees and pine trees standing tall around your merry group, providing shelter from the fog of the evening. Not too far from the headquarters, but also not too near in the vicinity to avoid disrupting the working higher-ups, or the resting scouts in their in the assigned shared quarters of their barracks. Regardless, even without the protection of the trees, the fog won't be stopping this small gathering of you and your comrades. An survey mission had just ended. It's a small mission led by you, in order to train you. Nothing too exciting just this small group of scouts surveying ahead, and placing supplies ahead of the expedition route that's due in next week. Although the mission is a success with the least amount of deaths so far, it wasn't without sacrifices. You sit relaxed with a drink of your own on one of the chairs. Beside you are your comrades, your subordinates, the Levi Squad in some of the chairs and benches, and then Hange accompanied by Moblit who sat beside her. All forming a complete circle with a table of food in the middle of the circle then a burning bonfire right beside it. Keeping this small gathering of people warm from the evening fog. In some of these seats are soldiers, scouts who fought bravely. At the cost of a missing leg, or an arm, or maybe even missing screws after facing the dark reality that the titans bring outside the Walls this very recent expedition. Yet despite, what they have experienced, they sit there merry with a drink on their uninjured free hands. Largely due to the part that Hange, Oruo, Gunther, and Eld are leading the conversation of this humble party.

A farewell party to be exact. The last night of these maimed soldiers in the military before they return to their status as simple civilians. In a way, Commander Erwin allowed this to happen just so the soldiers would go home with at least smiles on their faces. Smile of relief from surviving, or the smile from this small gathering and the events would occur later are sure bound to kick up a merry chat between their waiting families instead of the horrors outside walls as their main topic.

"Ah, it's your turn!" The bottle spins and points at you. "What?" And you break out from your deepest of thoughts, maybe because of the battle analysis reports, survey reports, and whole another bunch of papers you'll submit tomorrow, or maybe because of the watchful gaze a certain pair of steel blue gray eyes.

"Everyone's been pulling up 'Truths' this whole time, would you care for a dare instead?" Hange smiles cheeky at you, as she asks you at gunpoint in front of your comrades. "A dare?" Your question sounding more like a refusal. "C'mon please? It's nothing hard I swear. It'll be just like how easy you killed four titans this recent mission, right boys?" And your comrades and subordinates alike jeered at the thought. You were quite in a good form, the past mission and now that you're in this spot like this. With their mood like that, you don't want these soldier's last night to be with you being a killjoy of the night. You gave Hange a look before responding, "Alright what's the dare?" "Sweet! Well it's nothing hard, I just want you to kiss someone." Hange playfully answers giving a certain midget sipping tea at the edge of the circle, a knowing look. Fully aware of Levi's gazes at you. Or how he would sparingly brew the tealeaves you gifted him. Or how he would scold you as he checks up on you at the hospital after each mission, Hange gave a knowing look at Levi barely noticed by their comrades. The latter only returned a glare, barely noticeable in between sips of his tea. "The what? Hange, you can't be serious." You respond. You may be a little tipsy, but you still have your wits about you. "It'll be fine, unless..." Hange trails off, "Unless it means something to you of course. Were you saving it for someone?" She quips, her tone now growing teasingly playful. It didn't help that the rest of the Levi Squad, your subordinates, basically everyone's got their eyes and ears on you now. Giving in to either get peer pressured to saying something akin to confession—

'It wont be a confession,' You stubbornly think.

Well it's either you get peer pressured into saying something you may or may not regret, you decide to just go with the dare. At least in a dare there's a chance that the very act will be considered, 'not of any significant meaning to you.'

"Alright, I'll complete the dare. You guys owe me a drink for this one." You say with a smile pointing to the rest of the crowd, primarily to Hange. You scan your surroundings to look for a specific person who you know wouldn't take this dare personally or seriously. He may be a few centimeters smaller than you, but it did not take you long enough to find him sitting at the edge of the circle. Drinking tea instead of alcohol, he looks at you his blue-gray eyes displaying deadpan expression. "Is it okay if I pick you?" You ask for consent walking up to him with his side facing you. Casual form drinking tea amidst the tensing sensual atmosphere fueled by the expectant gazes of your comrades. His jaw clenches for a split second before nodding nonchalantly. His steel blue gaze, maintaining his composure. Bringing his cup a little lower from his lips, he remained sitting as he was. His side still facing you.

"Alright," You give a smile before placing one of your knee to his seat for support, you other hand crawling up behind him, to gain purchase of the seat he is leaning on to. And your other free hand cupping his chin, lightly with your fingers as you lean your face closer to his steel blue gaze.

In response, his body stiffens evidently caught off guard by this sudden act of intimacy. He fought back the shivers that run along his spine and his jaw subtly clenches as maintained his indifferent expression.

You lean in closer, and closer. Intensifying the already sensual tension caused by her own intimate actions.

Only to give him a light kiss on his cheek.

'They only said a kiss after all, they didn't say where.' You cleverly think, avoiding making a spectacle of yourself and drag Levi in this.

Disappointed murmurs hint the chorus of their comrades and Hange nodding with a light chuckle in amusement, "Ha! Well played, y/n." Spinning the bottle once more, "Next dare!"

When you pulled away and returned to your seat downing a glass in one big gulp, Levi didn't look at you or anyone at that moment. He just sat there with the memory of your lips, warm on his skin.

He sat there drinking his tea in silence. He wasn't drinking any alcohol at all.

And yet,

Why are his ears red?

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Hadrian's Wall

Hadrian's Wall is an impressive masterpiece of military engineering built along steep ups and downs that cross space and history between England and Scotland.

The old wall, sculpted for almost 2000 years by wind and rain, climbs over hills, immerses itself in a moor to suddenly resurface among the blades of light of a wood, a karst presence that seems to absorb the energy of landscape to challenge its gravity and logic in a rollercoaster of harsh ups and downs that cross space and history.

Hadrian's Wall is no longer England but it is not yet Scotland, even if the land to the north seems wilder.

But perhaps it is just a state of mind of those who look at it, subtly altered by the emotion of treading the same stones on which the Roman legionaries walked.

In reality, unlike what many believe, the Wall is within English territory, even if it has helped define the borders of the two countries since the emperor from whom it takes its name ordered its construction in 122 AD to "separate the Romans from the barbarians," the hostile tribes of the Picts who populated today's Scotland, a tough nut to crack even for the Roman legions.

To build it in just six years, about fifteen thousand men were employed, three legions that faced the challenges of a terrain carefully chosen to exploit its advantages.

The result is an impressive masterpiece of military engineering, a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1987, stretching from one coast of England to the other for eighty Roman miles, about one hundred and seventeen kilometers from Solway Firth to the west and Wallsend to the east.

It is one of the many place names linked to its existence and then extending southwards with ports and coastal fortifications.

For nearly three centuries, Hadrian's Wall was northernmost and most fortified boundary of the Roman limes, a gigantic defensive system that stretched for over five thousand kilometres — from the Atlantic coast of Great Britain to the Black Sea across Europe — then continuing through present-day Middle East to Red Sea and from there cutting across North Africa to the Atlantic.

The 117km long (80 Roman miles) Hadrian's Wall was punctuated by 14 main forts, 80 minor ones and 2 watchtowers every third of a mile.

In addition to the actual wall, mainly made of stone, about 5m high and up to 3m thick, becoming six metres thick in the earthen sections, the Wall was reinforced by a ditch bristling with pointed stakes, a military road that connected the forts and allowed any point to be reached quickly and by a deep embankment, the Vallum.

The forts, rectangular in plan, varied in size according to the importance of the garrison, a pattern repeated with slight differences along the entire limes that protected the borders of the empire.

A moat and a wall punctuated by towers protected the perimeter and each side had a gate protected by two massive towers.

Inside were the headquarters — the praetorium where the praefectus castrorum reside; barracks; a hospital; warehouses and latrines, generally under the walls, while the bathrooms were outside the fortifications.

In granary, food supplies were stored to face the harsh winters or possible sieges.

In the Vicus, the civilian settlement, lived the families of the soldiers, often auxiliaries who officially could not marry.

In these villages that grew spontaneously around the forts, merchants, artisans and prostitutes also lived, attracted by the soldiers' wages.

There were also temples dedicated to Roman, local and even oriental deities that reflected the different religions of soldiers from all over the empire because Romans were very tolerant as long as the social order and the emperor were not questioned.

🎥: © pindropandhop via IG

[notgonnaedit]

The Red Bandana

Summary: The story of how Hunter got his bandana

Warnings: None

A/n: I absolutely loved writing this. I'm very proud of it and it was the first of my writings that I've ever shown my dad

Art is mine

Hunter blew the long strands of hair out of his face. His desire to be like his defective brothers was why he even grew out his hair. But during training it was always in the way. The thick brown curls always got in his eyes and messed up his aim.

As much as he loved his long hair, Hunter knew that in the heat of battle it would cost him. It had to go.

The enhanced clone stood in the barracks refresher staring at the mirror. Looking back was the young clone. Dark hair hanging in eyes that changed with the light. Technically, he was around 8 years old. But because of the Kaminoans’ accelerated ageing, he had the mind and body of a 16 year old.

Hunter turned the blade in his hand. He had been training with Commander Cody in hand-to-hand combat. Learning to use a vibro blade was his favorite part. Now the blade was being used for something he'd rather not do, but he had to be practical. If his hair was in the way in the middle of a battle, it might cost Hunter his life. Or worse, his brothers.

He let out a sigh, no longer stalling. He reached behind his head with his left hand and gathered the thick locks. He held them tightly and raised the knife to them. He took a deep breath, ready to cut his hair.

"Hunter?"

The young clone faltered. He had not heard anyone enter. He cursed himself silently for not paying closer attention. Him and Tech had come to the conclusion that whenever Hunter felt strong emotions his heightened senses were dulled significantly. Tech had suggested that since because Hunter had stronger senses, his emotions were stronger too and, therefore, cancelled his other senses. It seemed maybe he was more attached to his long hair than he had previously thought.

Hunter lowered his blade and turned to the older clone in the doorway. "99, what are you doing in here?"

The older clone hobbled into the refresher. "You're late for evening mess." He said. "Your brothers were wondering where you were." His gaze shifted to the knife in his hand. "You're cutting your hair?"

Hunter looked down at his blade. He technically wasn't supposed to have it since he was still a cadet, but Cody had convinced a few of the trainers to let it slide. "Let the kid practice." He had said.

"Uh, yeah?" Hunter said a little sheepishly. 

"I thought you liked your long hair." 99 questioned.

"It gets in my face when I train, and it makes me kinda sweaty." Why did Hunter feel like he needed to explain himself? He hadn't done anything wrong. 

99's gaze bored into him. "Why did you grow out your hair in the first place?"

"Well," Hunter fidgeted with the blade in his hand. "My brothers are all different than the regs, and I guess I wanted to be different too."

99 looked at him quizzically. "But you are like your brothers, Hunter."

Hunter shook his head. "No, I mean look different. The regs call them names because of how they look, but not me. I thought that if I looked different, maybe the regs would, well, hate me too."

"You want them to hate you?" 99 asked.

Hunter clenched his fists. "Yeah. When we're done with training, I'm supposed to lead us into battle. If I look like a reg, they’ll end up hating me too. How am I supposed to lead my squad if my brothers don't even respect me?”

99's gaze softened. "Oh, Hunter. You know your brother's look up to you no matter what you look like, right?"

"Not Crosshair." The young clone scoffed. "He doesn't even care if I look like them. He says that it's obvious what I'm trying to do, and I should just give up because I'll always look like a reg."

99 chuckled. "Are you going to change everything about yourself for one person?"

"I'm not changing everything, just..." Hunter trailed off, not sure of where he was going.

99 seemed to be smirking, but it was hard to tell with his lopsided face. "So, you’re cutting your hair because of something one person said? I thought you didn’t care what people said about you. Or have you been spending time with the regs?”

Something stirred inside Hunter. A feeling of defiance. "I am not a reg." But the more the thought about it, he realized 99 was right. He was cutting his hair and looking more like a reg to lead his squad, a batch of  “defective” clones. They were anything but normal. Hunter realized he didn’t need to change for anyone. He liked his long hair, and Crosshair could stow it if he said anything about it.

A smile spread across Hunter's face. "Yeah, who cares? I'm gonna do what I want with my hair, no matter what Crosshair says." But there was still one problem. "Oh," His smile faded when he realized this. "Um, 99?"

"Yes, Hunter?" 99 said with a smile.

"My hair still gets in the way a lot." Hunter scratched the back of his head.

99 chuckled lightly. "I think I may have a solution for that. Come on."

Hunter followed the older clone through the halls of Kamino. They ignored the regs snide remarks and dirty whispers. Hunter dug his fingers into his palms to keep from punching them. He could hear everything. Every comment meant to hurt them, and they knew it. 

Eventually, they made it to the armory. Hunter looked around. There were blasters, detonators, bombs, and anything that Wrecker would try to steal. The armory also housed armor and clothes in the back. 99 lead him towards the back.

"Uh, 99, where are we going?" Hunter asked.

The older clone stopped by the bundles of tunics, undershirts, and pants. They were tied together with a belt and the boots to complete the uniform were sitting next to it. 99 unrolled the bundle and took the red undershirt sleeve. He ripped a decent sized strip off from the red cloth.

"I doubt anyone will care if we just take this off." 99 said cheekily. He set the rest of the clothes down and held out the strip of cloth. "Turn around."

A bit confused, Hunter obeyed and turned. He felt 99 put the cloth around his head and tighten it. He tied the ends.

"There," 99 stepped away. "Now you can keep your hair and it won't get in your way."

Hunter looked walked to the mirror at the end of the room. He could still feel a few strands of hair on his forehead, but they no longer hung in his eyes. His chocolate locks were held back by a red banana. Now, he could be himself without risking anything. 

“And just so you know, Hunter.” 99 spoke up again. “Your brothers don’t look up to you because of how you look. It’s because you have a good heart.

Hunter turned to the older clone and smiled. "Thanks, 99."

99 may never see active duty, but he was always there to help Hunter and his brothers prepare for their own battles. And that was something the young tracker would be eternally grateful for.

Tags for other wonderful writers @royallykt @bibliophilesince2003 @hugmekenobi @awkward-tension-art

[bejeweledblondie]

Miss Americana

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

Summary: After being crowned Miss America Y/N goes onto a military tour of bases to bring a morale boost to the troops

Warnings: innuendos, slight misogyny, I’m part of a military family so I’ll try my hardest to get make sure it’s somewhat accurate

“It’s you & me there’s nothing like this Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince”

Every little girl at least once dreams of standing on stage in a drop dead gorgeous gown being crowned the Miss America. For Y/N her childhood dreams came true when the rhinestone crown was put on her head. Ever since then she’s been constantly on the move. One appearance after the next, it was becoming exhausting.

While sitting on the balcony of one of the hotel rooms she was currently living out of her agent walked up to her, laptop in hand.

“So Y/N, we have a new appearance set up,” She started. “The USO has invited you to tour with them for their upcoming Summer Tour.”

“When does it start?” Y/N asked rubbing her eyes from lack of sleep.

“In two days, but in order to be able to make it we have to board a flight at the nearest airbase tomorrow.” Her agent explained. “So get some rest, & I’ll see you tomorrow morning at six am sharp.”

The next morning Y/N & her agent where off to nearest base to catch their flight. Other entertainers & celebrities were standing around luggage in hand outside of the C-130 aircraft. Slowly they all began to board & headed to their destination. The flight constantly had her on edge. She sat up against the wall of the aircraft gripping her seatbelt out of anxiety. The airmen on board explained they have to do a combat landing & that left her with jello legs.

Once the door to the aircraft opened everyone started to collect themselves & started to make their way off of the aircraft. One of the airmen offered to carry her luggage off of the aircraft for her, probably hoping to receive something in return. Military vehicles met them at the end of the ramp & everyone started to disperse to their respective vehicle.

Task Force 141 was just returning from an intense debriefing from a previous mission when they first got a glimpse of the beauty queen.

“Hey, get a load of that.” Soap called out making everyone’s head turn around. He spotted the young airman carrying Y/N’s bags. “Poor lad thinks he’s really going to get laid.” He chuckled.

“Hell I’d carry her bags, you see the legs on that bird.” Gaz whistled as they watched her walk to the Humvee. A groan collectively erupted from the men as she bent down tie her shoe, giving them a clear view of her cleavage.

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap exclaimed licking his lips.

The only one who stood in silent, arms crossed & hiding behind his skull mask as always was Ghost. He was equally as surprised & turned on by the sight of the attractive woman. It’s not often that in the middle of Afghanistan on a military base that a very attractive young woman appears. The place was typically a sausage fest. He noticed how the light reflected off of her hair, & the slight bounced of her breasts as she walked. Suddenly, there was a tightness in his crotch area & uncomfortably shifted around.

Y/N climbed inside of the Humvee, & the airman who she learned was name James closed the door for her. With her agent in the backseat the soldier that was driving them took off. She noticed the base was really isolated. Just industrial buildings & military equipment. “It must be quite boring here,” she thought to herself. Soon enough they pulled up to the barracks they’d temporarily be staying in. Once she was settled in her room, & showered there was a knock at her door. It was her agent.

“Get ready & dressed. We have a tour of the base in a hour.” She stated. One hour later there Y/N sat in the back of the Humvee looking around as the soldiers in the front conducted the tour. They pulled up to a building, & she was handed hearing protection.

“This is our shooting range.” One of the soldiers explained. “We have special forces & operators from defense companies training here. We’d thought you’d might want to try your hand at shooting & why not with the best.” They followed the soldiers in & she could hear the loud pings of the bullet ricocheting off of the metal targets. She must’ve drawn some attention from the training because soon the air was filled with soldiers asking her for photos. A gentleman with a mohawk approached her, & asked for a selfie. His accent threw her off guard not realizing that international military personnel were also there.

“I had no idea there were other countries training here.” She said as they finished taking the photo.

“Oh sure lass, we have people from all over. Our team is mainly made up of Brits. I’m Scottish though.” He winked at her. “Let me introduce you to some of my team.” He held out his arm to her which she took & walked her over to where the rest of Task Force 141 was situated. “Lads!” There heads all turned, wide eyed with jaws on the ground. Ghost was in the middle of examining his grouping when Gaz nudged him to look up. He chucked & shook his head only Johnny would be able to pull this off. “This is Y/N L/N or otherwise known as Miss America.”

She looked around at them & waved. The large man in the skull mask caught her off guard a little as he loomed over his other teammates. Standing like the grim reaper himself. Noticing a change in her body language when she locked eyes with the skull faced man, Soap tried to play it off knowing full well how intimidating Ghost can be.

“That’s our guard dog, Ghost.” He chuckled. “What a peculiar nickname,” she thought. Both Gaz & Price walked up to her formerly introducing themselves. Price asked for a photo to send to his wife & little girl. Y/N whipped out an autograph card & signed it for Price’s daughter. She knew deep down how much these men missed out on a lot in life to protect her & others. It was the most she could do in the moment. Ghost still stood there admiring her kindness towards his Captain. He watched as she showed genuine interest in what Price was saying. His heart started to skip a few beats the more he watched her. From the way her clothing hugged every curve on her body, to her flawless pageant smile. He found himself feeling butterflies in his stomach.

She had expressed interest in learning how to shoot, & he immediately jumped at the opportunity.

“I’ll show her.” His booming Manchester accent echoing off of the shooting ranges walls. She walked over & introduced herself with an out stretched hand.

“Y/N.” She stated, his hand immediately engulfed hers. It had to at least be twice the size.

“Lieutenant Simon Riley,” He replied. “Ghost is just my call sign.” She looked up at him with the most beautiful big doe eyes he’s every seen. So full of kindness, love, & warmth. He went over the functions of the rifle he had in his hand & the safety procedures. She listened intently & couldn’t stop staring at his hands. His hands although covered in calluses & cuts there was something comforting about them. “I’m going to walk you through the first couple of times.” He explained shaking her out of her trance. She nodded, & he brought the rifle up to her body. Pressing his front to her back he helped her get situated into the right position. Simon felt that familiar tightness in his crotch as her ass pressed into his crotch. The friction of her shifting around didn’t help. His body eclipsed her small frame as he adjusted her hands.

“Alrighty love I’m going to turn off the safety, & when I do pull the trigger.” He instructed. A chill went down her spine as his voice vibrated through his chest into her back. Her finger pressed the trigger of the rifle down & the recoil pushed her body slightly back into Simon. A small smirk painted itself on her lips as she felt his erection poking her in the back. Once she finished the rifle’s magazine they both lowered the rifle. “That’s a good girl.” He praised looking at her grouping. She bit her lip turned her head to look at him.

“I know I’m a good shot.” She flirted with a wink. In that moment Simon knew there was no other woman in the world like her. She was insatiable.

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

I’m back with my Hunter brainrot, thanks to your kinktober post 😅 I hope this is ok to ask:

Can you write a Hunter x f reader where the prompts "I can't risk losing you again." and "Don't you see that I'm hurting?" Are used?

And can it be fluffy with feelings? It would also be cool if it’s NSFW or steamy but that’s honestly up to you. I love your work sm <3 take care

Thank you so much, anon! Sorry for the delay; I was trying to work out how to get the line prompts in while keeping it fluffy/sweet/steamy. There’s a tiny bit of angst, too.

I hope this is okay! <3

Safe with You

After you were snatched by locals on a recent mission, buried feelings bubble up to the surface, and neither of you can fight them back any longer.

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: canon typical violence, hurt and comfort, light angst, feelings and softness, friends to lovers (this trope with this man 🤌), squint for possessiveness, fingering, praise/encouragement.

Rain pelted against the large barracks window, the grey skies a common sight on Kamino. But Hunter’s attention wasn’t on the brewing storm outside. Dark eyes watched as you moved around the room with a slight limp to decant the contents of your pack onto your cot.

Six months you’d been with them. Six months as their civilian handler. You were supposed to report to the Kaminoans on their missions and provide them with whatever they needed to ensure they returned safely each time. The long necks couldn’t have anything happening to their ‘experimental assets’ after all. You weren’t meant to be in the field with them, yet you’d insisted.

And now you were hurt.

Jaw clenching, Hunter tries to forget the panic that had consumed him when you'd sent a distress signal during the middle of the last mission. They’d left you on the Marauder at a safe distance and able to assist if needed, but the locals had found you and weren’t too happy. Your scream of his name over the comms as you’d been dragged out of the ship had turned his blood to ice and would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Before he could stop himself, Hunter was up on his feet and across the room, reaching out for you, selfishly needing to triple-check that you were okay.

You startle as warm hands grasp your wrist, your heart rate spiking as fear simmers in your veins for only a second until you look up at a familiarly handsome face. Try as you might, you were still a little shaken. The locals hadn’t hurt you – your injury was self-inflicted, having smacked your hip on the bunk racks as you’d tried to kick yourself free of their grasp – and that had been their only saving grace when Hunter had stormed their small village with a blaster in one hand and his vibroknife in the other, demanding to know where you were. The relief that had crumpled his face as you’d been yanked out of a nearby building would forever be etched into your memory.

For a moment, you can only stare into his eyes, watching a mired of emotions flicker across his face before his hand shifts to your chin to tilt your head from side to side, double-checking for any marks. “I’m okay, Hunter.” You tell him softly, shifting your weight onto your good leg. “I don’t blame them.” You’re touched by his concern, warmth seeping through your body.

Hunter shakes his head a little, a hard glint in his endless brown eyes. “I do. You’re hurt.”

“Like I said on the way back here, this is self-inflicted.” You repeat, gently taking his wrist to pry his hand from your face. He didn’t need to worry so much – you’d been through a lot worse.

Hunter isn’t backing down that easily, not when something is clawing at his chest and demanding that he be sure you’re okay. “Let me see.”

You pause, blinking a few times at the commanding tone he’d slipped into so effortlessly. It was easy to forget at times that he was in charge. “Hunter…”

“Please.” He remembers his manners, softening his tone a little. He hadn’t meant to come across as harsh or rude, but that strange feeling in his chest wasn’t easing.

“There’s nothing to see. I’ve probably just pulled a muscle. It’ll be fine in a few days.” You point out.

Hunter takes a deep, shaky breath. “You don’t know what it was like hearing you scream out for me.” He pauses, swallowing, the memory replaying on an endless loop in his mind. “Nothing mattered other than getting to you. And I was too slow. You were gone when I got back. But your scent…” His jaw clenched, brows drawn down into a pained frown. One of his hands moved to cup your face, the light drag of his thumb across your cheekbone tugging at your heart. “So sweet but tainted with fear…” He trails off, remembering how relentlessly he’d tracked you down, pushing his senses further than ever before, searching for every little trace of you, desperate to have you back. “Don’t you see that I’m hurting? Please. I need to see that you’re okay.”

You couldn’t deny the worry you saw in Hunter’s eyes, something that rarely surfaced in the stoic soldier, and his words struck a chord with the unspoken connection that had grown between you during your time together. With a small sigh, you nod, giving in to his request.

“Alright. But I promise you, it’s not as bad as you think.” You gently guide him to sit on your cot, lowering yourself next to him and lifting your shirt enough to reveal the purpling bruise on your hip. It wasn’t anything serious, just a painful reminder of the close call.

Hunter’s eyes narrow as he inspects the bruise, his fingers brushing lightly over the discoloured skin. His touch is surprisingly gentle, and for a moment, there’s silence in the room, only the distant rumble of thunder and the patter of rain against the window breaking the stillness.

“I told you, it’s nothing major.” You reassure him, studying the deep furrow in his brow. “I appreciate your concern, but I can handle a few bumps and bruises. It comes with the territory.”

Hunter remains silent, his gaze fixed on the bruise as if trying to will it away. Then, without a word, he rifles through the contents of your pack that you’d dumped out, grabbing a small tube of bacta gel. Wordlessly, he begins to apply it to your bruise, his movements deliberate and tender.

“You shouldn’t have to endure this.” He mutters, almost to himself, his fingers working the gel into your skin. “You weren’t made for this, yet you willingly put yourself in harm’s way. I can’t…I can’t risk losing you again.”

His admission catches you off guard. The weight of his words hangs in the air. The bond between you has evolved, whether you intended it or not.

You place a hand over his, pausing his ministrations. “I’m here because I choose to be. I believe in what you and your brothers are fighting for. I want to help in whatever way I can. I want to protect you. You’re not the only one who would go to great lengths for someone they care about.”

Hunter meets your gaze, his expression softening. At that moment, you realize that the storm brewing outside is nothing compared to the one raging inside Hunter.

You watch as he sets aside the bacta gel, knowing you’re at a crossroads and that whatever you say or do next will tip the scales. His eyes lift to meet yours, and for a moment, the silence lingers until his gaze dips down to your lips for the briefest of seconds. 

You move on instinct. Leaning in, your hand cups his cheek, guiding his face towards yours. As your lips meet in a tender kiss, you feel him respond with relief and desperation, as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. His hand finds its place on the small of your back, drawing you closer as he deepens the kiss.

Warmth licks through you, and you let out a small noise of surprise as Hunter pulls you carefully onto his lap, shifting you so that you can straddle him. His hand still supports your back, the other cradling the nape of your neck as his tongue presses forward, sliding between your lips to taste you.

Your soft moan is muffled by his mouth, tongue meeting his, body going pliant. Hunter’s lips are firm and confident, every fragment of his adoration for you poured into the kiss. 

He wants to drown in your scent, to block out the rest of the galaxy and focus on nothing but you – the sounds you’re making, the racing of your heart, the taste of you that he’ll never get enough of. Cautious not to jostle you, Hunter stands, cradling you to him, smiling against your lips as your arms and legs wrap around him. As you cling to him, he carries you across the room to his bunk, laying you down gently on his sheets.

Sinking into the softness of the mattress, you gaze up at Hunter as he settles above you, careful not to rest his weight on you. Soft lips return to your body, dragging down your throat as his fingers creep under your shirt, dark fabric pushed up as he traces the curves of your body, the rough pads of his fingers against smooth skin. He’s already half-hard just from kissing you, but he studiously ignores it.

You are his priority. You always have been.

He shifts, working his way down your body. Reverent kisses pressed to your exposed belly, lips lingering around your injured hip, still shiny with bacta. Endless brown eyes flit up to meet your gaze, stealing your breath. Reaching down, you cup the inked side of his face, watching as his eyes flutter shut, head tilting into your touch, lips ghosting the palm of your hand in a feather-light kiss as he reassures himself that you're okay. Tears prickle at your eyes, heart aching at the sweetness of the gesture.

Fingers reach the waistband of your pants, already sitting low to not press on your hip, and there's a silent question in his gaze as he looks up at you.

With a small nod, you encourage him, and Hunter slowly pries your pants down further, eyes flitting between yours and the expanse of skin slowly revealed to him. He sees every emotion painted on your beautiful face, like a masterpiece he’s dedicated his entire life to studying.

Your pants hit the floor, Hunter’s lips trailing a path back up your body, soft kisses and gentle nips laved across your thighs and stomach. One arm returns to supporting his weight above you while the other hand smooths across your body, committing every part of you to memory. He could spend an eternity mapping you, losing himself in every nuance of you. Your honeyed scent fills his lungs, overpowering the lingering smells in the barracks.  

It’s the sweetest torture you’ve ever experienced, the soft drag of his fingers across your body, the warmth of him so close, those eyes that have drawn you in since the very beginning. He dips down for a delicate kiss, fingers sliding across your thighs. They part without protest, and the deep rumble of approval that flees his lips sends a shiver through you.

Tentatively, he drags two fingers across the front of your damp panties as your kiss breaks. “So needy already, cyar’ika.” He croons, marvelling at the whimper you let loose. “Should probably do something about that, eh?” He adds, catching your clit with his next stroke, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

All you can do is nod, heart racing as you look up at him, trusting he’ll take care of you.

A smile passes over Hunter’s lips, and his fingers dance under the waistband of your panties, sliding down through your slick folds. Drawing lazy circles around your entrance, he goes to press a digit into your warm heat but pulls back at the last moment. Your brows furrow, and the small whine of frustration you let out makes him chuckle. “Patience, mesh’la.” He admonishes playfully, dragging his fingers up and over your clit again, making you gasp.

It’s maddening. But at the same time, oh so delicious. One of your hands grasps at the sheets of his bunk, the other grabbing onto him, anchoring yourself as his fingers stroke across you, cataloguing each spot that makes your hips jolt or pulls a little sound from you.

The delicious torture comes to an end as he finally presses a finger into you, another sliding in beside it. A soft moan escapes you, muffled as Hunter presses his lips to yours, crooking his fingers until he finds the right spot.

Stars erupt in your vision, kiss breaking as you tilt your head back, letting out another moan as pleasure curls through you. 

“There it is.” Delight warms Hunter’s voice as he finds the spot, fingers moving, watching enraptured as you react to his touch. Leaning closer, his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. “You should see yourself, cyar’ika. So beautiful.” He whispers, revelling in the way your heart rate spikes at his words, how you squirm and cant your hips to chase the pleasure he’s giving you. “That’s it. Take what you need.” He encourages.

Eyes sliding shut, warmth builds in your belly with every brush of his fingers against that sensitive spot inside you, with every soft word he utters. You grind down against his palm, the added pressure on your clit making your head spin as his fingers slide in and out of you.

Hips rolling, you’re grateful for the bacta gel that’s numbed the earlier ache, and you whine as Hunter’s teeth graze your earlobe. Warm puffs of his breath caress your neck as he dips down, dragging the flat of his tongue from your clavicle back to your ear, making you shiver. “Keep going, sweetheart, you’re doing so well.” He murmurs, a low rasp to the smoky voice you’ve grown to love.

Breath stuttering, you cling to him, desperately rocking against his hand. Your fingers twist the sheets as the pressure builds and builds. “Please...” You whine, eyes opening to find lust-blown brown gazing right back at you.

You ask so sweetly that Hunter can’t do anything but take mercy on you. Ensuring his fingers continue pumping slowly in and out of your tight heat, his thumb makes contact with your clit, and the cry you let out is magnificent.

“Yes, yes, like that…” You babble, eyes falling shut once more as he works you into a frenzy. Lips parting on a silent gasp, you finally tip over the edge. Trembles skitter through your body as you give yourself over to it, letting yourself be swept up in the moment.

Hunter has seen a lot in his few years – sunrises on pretty planets, families reunited, millions of stars shining in distant pockets of the galaxy. Still, all of it pales compared to the sight of you falling apart beneath him.

Working you through the high, his hand only stills once your beautiful eyes open once more and, holding your gaze, he slides his fingers from you, dragging them up to his mouth. The taste of you explodes in his mouth, and he groans, lapping at his fingers as he cleans away the evidence of your release.

Ragged breaths escape you as you come down from the high, watching the way the man you adore savours the taste of you. Exhaustion starts to creep through your body, the adrenaline of the day wearing off and the intensity of your orgasm stealing what little energy you had left. “Your turn…” You mumble, hand sliding down his body towards the thick length straining against his blacks.

Hunter gently captures your wrist, guiding your hand back up before peppering your pulse point with light kisses. “Promise me that I can teach you how to defend yourself better. And that you’ll always carry my spare vibroknife.” He makes a heartfelt request.

You attempt to protest, but seriousness settles over his expression, a stark reminder of how shaken he’d been earlier. “Tomorrow morning, I’m returning the favour. Then I’ll promise you anything.” You finally conceded.

A soft chuckle escapes him. “Deal.” He agrees, sealing the pact with a gentle press of his lips to yours. Carefully, he shifts you, pulling the sheet up, cocooning you in warmth. “There’s my girl.” He coos, watching as your eyes start to droop, lids heavy.

Half-awake, you mumble. “Yours?”

“Mine.” He confirms tenderly, smoothing your hair from your face, the ache in his chest finally easing as you rest safely in his bunk.

[explodingstar]

I miss you Simon.

Warnings: NSFW 18+

Pairings: Simon Riley x f!reader

It was a slow day for you back home all the household chores were done and dinner was already made for later tonight. Just some leftovers from the night before, reheated. Simon had only left a couple weeks ago to go back on deployment to another mission. You miss him already and damn do you miss him. You grab a book and lay down in bed with only the bedside lamp illuminating the darkness of the bedroom.

 Buzz buzz

A text? From Simon? You pick up your phone hoping to see his name in your notifications instead its just another alert from facebook. You roll your eyes and put down your phone again but you REALLY needed him to text you especially with the mood you were in at the moment. All of a sudden an idea comes to your mind and you put the book you were reading down on the bedside table alongside your glass of wine. Was this a drunken idea? Possibly. Did it still seem like a good idea? 

Definitely. 

You get up and walk over to your closet and grab Simons favorite article of clothing that he LOVES to see you in. A black lacy one piece that is just sheer enough to see everything, in the right lighting. You grab your tripod and set it up at the edge of the bed and change into the lingerie that Simon had essentially tried to rip off of you before. You set up your phone on the tripod and turn it on video mode to take screenshots of it later. At first you pose a couple different ways. One on your knees with your arms pushing your tits together and your hands on the bed in front of you. Another one with the top of the one piece down so your tits are fully out and your hands running through your long gorgeous hair. You get to thinking…‘What would Simon enjoy most?’ An idea hits you. You turn your back to the camera and seductively bend over to where your ass is in the air and your soaking wet pussy can be seen through the sheer lingerie that you decided to put on. You get up and grab your phone looking through the video to make sure everything is perfect. A couple screenshots here, a couple there and you make a little folder called “For Simon”. 

“This should get him to text me…” ‘attachment delivered’ you read. 

Simon’s POV 

DING “Simon! You got a message!” “Thanks Johnny I’m pretty sure I can hear” Simon says annoyingly. He picks up his phone and opens your message. He smirks to himself and stands up from his seat. “I’ll be right back mates” He goes into the bathroom off of the barracks just for a bit more privacy. 

Your POV

RING RING RING You look down at your phone blushing when you see Simon’s name and photo come across your screen. You slide over to answer “Hiiii Simon” You hear the sound of metal clinking together and you know exactly what it is, his belt coming undone with one hand. “Im going to assume you got my pictures love” 

“Ughh Fuck. I did..ya miss me don’t ‘cha?” He says through grunts. “I always do” you say rubbing yourself just to the sound of his voice. A small moan escaping your lips as you do so. “Wait till I get back…you wont be able to walk for teasing me like this…oh fuck” he says softly. He continues stroking his cock still looking at the pictures you sent. “I cant wait for you to come home.” You say with your middle finger slowly pumping in and out of you. “Fuck..well lucky for you I get home tomorrow…”

A/N: I plan on making this a part 1! Part 2 would be Simon coming home. 😈 (Sorry for any errors its almost 2AM.)

[koenigsbleachedshirt]

I JUST WANT KEEGAN TO MAKE ME FEEL SO DUMB Ik that man would be the most condescending mf and is def into dacryphilia

RAHHHHH Keegan daddy 😩😩😩😩

.....and uh, I think I went overboard.... BUT WHATEVERRRRR (this has been cooking for 3 days...)

Afab reader with neutral pronouns, power dynamics, DUBCON, mean! Dom! Keegan, dacryphilia, slapping, teasing, orgasm control, ruined orgasm, degradation (slut), creampie, pet names (bunny, little bunny)

You weren't too sure how you ended up in this... weird position, your superior pinning you against the wall in the hallway to the barracks, hand on your throat. A friend of yours had asked for some emotional support with a person he met on some site, so you were going there, but then....

"What are you doing over here at this hour? You should be aware that's against the rules, kid." He says, deep voice sending shivers down your spine. After asking, he loosens the vice like grip on your throat so you can answer.

"My friend asked me to give him some advice.... that's all, Sir." You mutter, trying to maintain eye contact. "No funny business, I promise."

Keegan taps his finger slightly against your cheek, eyes scanning your face. "I really couldn't care less, Soldier. Rules say the members are to sleep separately, and that won't change."

"I wasn't going to spend the night! An hour at mo-" Your argumentation is cut short when his grip on your throat tightens again; to shut you up. The noise you make due to the sudden interruption catches both of you by surprise, cheeks beginning to feel hot.

He loosens his grip just slightly, eyes narrowing. "In there, this instant." Keegan almost growls, roughly shoving you into the room next to where you got held up, stumbling over your feet before coming to a stop in the middle of it. He closes the door and clicks the lock shut before slowly moving towards you.

You gulp nervously when he halts in front of you, his icy eyes shooting daggers. "What were you really up to? Don't think I haven't heard of these excuses before."

Frustration overtakes your face and, against better judgment, you lose your temper. "I wasn't lying! My friend just wanted some fucking advice!"

The realization of what you've just done immediately hits you, and you shudder; body suddenly feeling ice cold. You just raised your voice against a Sargeant, AND you were disrespectful. If this doesn't get you kicked, then-

"Did you just lose face, Soldier? Dare raise your voice and lose respect?" Keegan's eyes narrow even more, grabbing your jaw and yanking your chin up to meet his eyes. "Looks like you need some disciplining. Hasn't even been that long since you came here, y/n, you were so promising..."

His grip is so tight, and it hurts. He's digging his fingers into your jaw, and all you could do was deal with it. "I- I'm sorry, Sargeant, it won't happen again." You manage to say through the pain of his grip, one eye squeezed shut due to the pain.

But he only clicks his tongue before letting you go.

.

.

.

And then came the shock.

He had just slapped you; face snapping to the side from how unexpected it was. And then he yanks your face back towards him, fingers once again painfully tightly gripping your jaw. "Crying already? How pathetic. I'm just getting started." Keegan chuckles lowly, backing you up until the back of your knees hit the bedframe.

"S- Sir, please... It won't happen again.." You mumble pitifully, a tear rolling down your cheek.

It almost feels like he cares when he gently wipes it away, but then he grabs a handful hair at the back of your head. A whimper of pain rips through the thick silence in the room, and Keegan moves so he can speak directly into your ear. "I'm going to teach you some fucking respect, Soldier."

And then you're falling backward, hitting the bed full force due to your Sargeant pushing you. You don't have time to react before he pins you down, one leg keeping both of yours separated and his hands on the sides of your head to keep him from crushing you.

Keegan feels the growing tension in his pants upon seeing how intimidated you were; so scared to upset him any further when in reality he's just toying with you. Trying to break you. Trying to claim you. He wants you to only see him. "Your safeword is cherry. I won't go easy, and I won't stop for anything unless you say it. Copy that?" Keegan explains before sitting back up to take off his helmet and throw off his heavy vest.

"C- Copy, Sir..." You reply timidly, not moving an inch. You'd be lying if you said this whole situation didn't turn you on. Your Sargeant, on which you've had a crush on ever since you joined the Ghosts, was about to do something unspeakable to you. Something you wouldn't even think of in your wildest fantasies. And you could feel your excitement making your underwear stick to your core.

Keegan chuckles, humorless and flat, before grabbing the back of your neck to pull you into a sitting position. "Let's see how much you can take before you break, kid." He mumbles, pulling down his mask and leaning down to lick a stripe up your throat, stopping just below your chin.

You scrunch up the sheets beneath your hands; too scared to touch the man in front of you without his permission. Your breathing is erratic due to the simple gesture of his tongue on your skin.

Aside from not touching him, you simply do not move at all. Just let him have his way. Even though this isn't what you wanted or even ever imagined, you're not opposed to the idea of your hot Sargeant having his way with you.

And then everything stops.

"Get up." Keegan orders, and you obey. You stand up from the bed, standing in front of him, anxiously trying to figure out what's going to happen. He sits down at the edge of the bed, legs spread slightly and just watching you. "Come over here."

You take a step closer, standing in front of where he's sitting down. And then he grabs you by the belt, making you stumble and awkwardly seat yourself on his lap. Your hands flew up to his shoulders out of reflex to catch yourself. The hand that he used to pull you in is once again on your jaw, forcing you to look into his eyes.

It's the first time you see his face; he forgot to pull his mask back up.... or he didn't care. "It's quite amusing to watch you trying so hard, you know? Not even touching me without permission... you caught on quickly. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna stop until all you can feel and think of is my cock."

The way he said it with that bone-chilling voice of his, and the way he smirks when your expression changes into one of plead. Keegan is enjoying this. He watches you squirm on his lap, but he's not having it.

A loud slap brings you to a stop, the burn of it tingling your thigh. "You aren't moving unless I tell you to, am I clear, bunny?" A new rush of arousal rips through you; he basically just called you a barracks bunny. "You will take what I give you and be a good fucking slut, yeah?"

"Y- Yes, Sir." You reply, voice a little shaky. "I'll be good.."

"Perfect. You learn fast, kid." He smirks again, smoothing a hand over the spot he had so painfully hit, lightly caressing it. Then he shoves both his hands under your thighs and moves to lay you down on your back once again. He makes quick work to rip off your boots, throwing them somewhere in the room.

When he stops, you don't look. All you hear is rustling and two more thumps; he must've taken off his boots as well. Keegan's fingers make contact with your belt, and you shudder, excitement buzzing through you at the thought of what's next. He opens it quickly, and your pants are next.

"You got something to say before I pull these off, bunny?" Keegan asks with a knowing look in his eyes, a slight smirk pulling at his lips once again tonight. "No, I don't think so..." You reply, and you're going to regret this.

Because you didn't catch on to what he meant. Your pants are pulled down so fast that it catches you off guard. "Tsk, tsk, tsk... I gave you a chance, and yet you didn't take it. I'll have to punish you for this, bunny."

"I- I'm sorry, Sir! I... I didn't catch on to what you-" You desperately try to explain yourself, but your words get stuck in your throat when Keegan shoves your panties aside and stuffs two of his thick, long fingers into your sopping cunt. It rips a squeal, followed by a high-pitched moan from you, and your legs try to close on instinct, but he's not having it.

"Keep your fucking legs open, slut." Keegan orders, and you try so hard not to moan again.

His fingers move at an agonizingly slow pace, and you're embarrassed by the wet sounds that follow. "Fucking hell, you're soaked to the bone. You sure are enjoying this, little bunny."

You are enjoying this, and you're fucking embarrassed about it. Because the way Keegan speaks to you so condescendingly, with the premise of disciplining you as your superior - someone you look up to and learn from.

Keegan noticed your thoughts wandering, but he didn't pay it any mind. It's not like you'd be able to stay spaced out once he finds your pleasure button. His fingers move so smoothly and calculated, that he finds it a few seconds later.

Your back arches at the new and overwhelming rush of pleasure once Keegan's fingers carress your g-spot. An almost pornographic moan escapes you, and you tear up. This is all too much for you, but you can't bring yourself to move away. The pleasure is overwhelming you.

"Damn bunny, you're clenching so hard. You're enjoying this a little too much for this to be a punishment for breaking the rules." Keegan muses, suddenly speeding up his thrusting, and you squeal.

And then his fingers are gone. You were about to cum, but he stopped. You try to catch your breath while looking up at him. Keegan grabs you by the shirt collar and pulls you into a sitting position. "Open your mouth."

You oblige without hesitation, meeting his eyes. He smirks devilishly before shoving the same fingers he had just buried in your pussy into your mouth. The taste is foreign, but you won't dare to piss him off, so you close your lips around his digits and work your tongue around them, cleaning your slick off his fingers.

"Didn't even have to tell you what to do, huh? You're so fucking dirty." He says, a dark chuckle ripping through his chest. Keegan takes his fingers out of your mouth and lazily wipes them on his shirt before manhandling you onto your stomach and pulling your ass up. "I'm going to fucking ruin your cute little pussy, you won't be able to tell left from right and top from bottom after I'm done."

You listen closely as he unzips his pants and pulls out his cock. He teases you by casually rubbing it against your pussy, making your eyes roll back at the delicious feeling.

He teases you by just dipping the tip in before pulling back to simply slide it up and down your slit. It pulls a whimper from you, cunt still sensitive from when he denied your first orgasm.

But Keegan doesn't stop; no, he does it again and again. Putting in just the tip, basically fucking you with nothing. And you hate that it's working because you feel a new orgasm building up. "P- Please.... no more teasing..." You whimper when he teases you by rubbing his dick along your clit.

"This is a punishment, you don't get to make demands, slut." Keegan states and chuckles darkly. "I'm just getting started."

And then you squeal and whine into the pillow when you feel his thick cock bully its way into your cunt, the stretch so delicious it has your eyes rolling back a little too far. His hips are flush against your ass and Keegan groans deep in his throat before landing a loud slap against your ass, kneading the flesh right after.

You barely adjust to his size before he starts viciously fucking into you from behind. Smacking noises echoing around the quiet room, his hips repeatedly making contact with your ass, and his balls hitting your clit so good. "F- Fuuuuck..!!" You moan into the pillow and fist the sheets by your face, tears gathering in your eyes at the slight twinge of pain because he keeps hitting your cervix. "I- Is so gooooood..."

Keegan grunts in reply before gathering your wrists and pinning them to your back,holding onto them for a better grip. He knows you're getting close by how much you're clenching on his cock and he stops his thrusts completely. A frustrated cry leaves your lips at the oncoming orgasm once again fading away. Keegan watches as you sob into the pillow, and he yanks you up, still balls deep inside of you.

"Aww.. crying doesn't get you anywhere, bunny. It only makes me wanna make it worse." He rasps into your ear before leaning over to flick his tongue over cheek, catching your tears and chuckling. "C'mon, beg for it. Convince me to let you cum, Soldier."

You fall back down into the pillow face first, your hands still held together behind your back and try to catch your breath. "P- Please Sir.... please let me cum..."

He thrusts extra hard, literally knocking the air out of your lungs. "I can't hear you, speak up." Keegan orders you before resuming his unforgiving pace of hard and fast thrusts.

"I... Please! Please let me cum!" You almost scream, repeating yourself. And you almost think Keegan takes mercy on you when his hand moves to rub your clit, making another high approach embarrassingly fast.

And just as you're about to tip over the edge, he pinches down on the bundle of nerves, completely ruining it for you. Because you do cum, but you don't get to ride it out. You're so desperate for friction you try to fuck yourself on his cock, but his hold is unrelenting and you can't. You thrash around beneath him, more tears falling from your eyes at how he ruined your high.

"Y- You're.. so- so mean..!" You pitifully sob, hiccups shaking your entire body. He doesn't feel too bad though; you had been given a safeword, and you didn't use it.

"Well, did you learn your lesson now, little bunny?" Keegan asks and suddenly starts fucking into again at a brutal pace, chasing his own high. He's going to leave you broken and frustrated. "You had been given a warning after all."

The noises you make are a messy mix of sobs and whimpers as he continues to abuse your sensitive pussy for his own pleasure; but you don't have the headspace to worry about it any longer. You've basically zoned out, only coming back to yourself when his thrusts become irregular and frantic.

"I'm gonna mark your slutty little cunt so good..." Keegan groans before he reaches his own high, his cum filling you up to the brim. Your eyes roll back for the nth time that night and then he pulls out.

It feels empty and weird, his sperm leaking out of your abused hole. You lay there on the bed, legs twitching and completely fucked out, unable to form a single coherent thought.

Keegan simply moves you to lay on your back and proceeds to dress you back in your underwear and pants, your shoes coming on last. His cum seeps out into your panties and it feels so weird, but you can't do anything, about to pass out due to the exertion this whole ordeal has put on your body.

He watches your eyes flutter closed and chuckles to himself. "Time to get you back to your room, kid." Keegan says as he picks you up effortlessly and carries you back to where you came from, pleased with how everything turned out.