#old chain for girls with price

[lovifie]

Price had a young girlfriend and did not tell anybody until he decided to get married...

He probably didn't tell them until the night before the wedding…He asked them to come over for a little celebration and everyone expected a middle-aged woman. But when they saw a girl in her mid-20s opening the door with Price they were shocked

Soap probably even asked if she's his stepdaughter LOL

Hey, love!! 💗💗

I wrote you a little something...

I hope you like it 💗

❤️Mr. & Mrs. Price❤️

Fluff | Sugestive | 1547 words | Back to Masterlist

They were having a pint at a pub close to base when he told them. 

“I'm getting married next Saturday, you have the weekend free, so drop by so I can introduce you to the missus.”

Now, Ghost wasn't surprised he didn't know about his captain having a girlfriend, let alone a relationship serious enough to talk about marriage. What surprised Ghost was that neither Soap nor Gaz knew about it. 

“Married?!” Gaz asked, loud enough to make some people turn their heads. 

Price furrows his eyebrow, surprised by the reaction as if he had just told them about what he's having from breakfast. 

“I didnae ken ye had a pretty bird waiting for ye at home, Captain!” Soap says, just as loud.

“Yeah, I have for a couple of years now.” Price simply answers, shrugging his shoulders as he takes a sip.

“A couple of years?!” The three men ask in unison like a bad comedic joke. 

A chain of questions starts to unravel, curiosity for the mysterious woman pouring out; but Price waves his hand shutting them up. “No point in that, you are meeting her this weekend, easier that way”

They begrudgingly agree, keeping to themselves the mental image of the possible woman. She must be around Price's age, so between 40 and 50 years old; knowing how little the man likes to go out they probably met at work so she must be military too. Stern woman. 

Price tells them that is something minor, the close family and a bunch of friends; that they can join at the reception at his house and to dress nicely. 

“No ghost mask.” He chastises the man pointing at him. “I don't want work involved, alright?”

During the week until the wedding, they keep thinking about her, about how she must look like, her personality, her age, her eye colour.

“What do you think she'll look like?”

“In my mind, she's like Laswell… but being into men.”

And out of every possibility and different mental image, the last thing they expected was the pretty thing that opened the door for them on Saturday. 

Pretty little thing, around 25 years old, with the kindest smile on her face even when looking at the three giants on her doorframe, flowy white dress, little hair strands framing her cute face with the rest of it gathered up in an intricate updo in the back hold together with shiny pins and a silky bow. 

“Oh, you must be John's friends.” You say, voice sweet as an angel. “Please, come in, don't just stand there. I'm gonna go get him, be back in a second”

You step back, holding the door open for them, inviting them in and once inside you close the door, walking past them to reach their captain who is looking in the opposite direction, talking to somebody else.

“That must be the stepdaughter… right?” Soap asks what all of them are thinking. 

They stare as you walk up to Price, placing your hand on his lower back making him turn to look at you; a wide smile appearing immediately. He leans forward, his arm moving behind your shoulder and his hand keeping your jaw in place as he kisses you. 

Lips crashing against yours, closing his eyes and letting his tongue into your mouth tasting the champagne you were drinking just a moment ago. A passionate, sloppy kiss that would make a maiden blush at the impropriety of it even for the newlyweds.

“Mate, I sure fucking hope she's not.” Gaz answers after a moment.

The two of you finally pull back, telling Price about his friends arriving and he looks behind you to see them. He smiles, not as wide as when he looked at you, and gives you a quick peck before walking to the door. 

“Welcome, lads. Thank you for coming.” He says simply, crossing his arms and looking proud. You appear from behind him, hand resting on his arm slightly leaning to his side.

“Do you want anything to drink? To eat?” You ask softly, love pouring out of Price's eyes as he looks down on you. 

“I'll help you.” Ghost says, a curl of his lips you could identify as a smile if you wanted to. And once the captain is left with the sergeants, the attack starts. 

“How does an old churl like you manages to get a pretty thing like her?”

“Where do you even meet a doll like her?”

“How many years have you exactly been dating for?”

Ghost clears his throat when he turns around the corner on his way back, with you chirping on his side about how happy you are to finally meet them. He has a more natural smile on his face now, clearly infected with your enthusiasm. 

Price finally introduces you to them, exchanging everyone's name. You hug both the sergeants and shake Ghost's hand, the man glad that you made the observation of his lack of appreciation towards body contact. 

After a little chat, you excuse yourself; promising to get back in a while wanting to talk to your own friends still waiting around the room. It leaves Price on his own and that's when he tells the nosy men how he met you. 

You were his neighbour, sharing half the walls of the old flat he house to live in before moving in together. How he introduced himself to you one day when he saw you leaving your house, how he told you he was military so you wouldn't freak out if you saw him in the middle of the night or suddenly disappeared for months, how after a specially long deployment he got back and you dropped by hours later with a bunch of tupperwares with homemade food “I assumed you would be tired, it's nothing special but I'll save you the hustle of cooking”, about how he had wanted to marry you ever since, how he gave you the tupperwares back one by one so he had more reasons to talk to you, how he finally asked you out with the last one and how after that it all was easy between you two.

The four of them swiftly move to sit down on the kitchen table, Price still telling them everything about you and the relationship. Ghost is just as invested as the other two, trying to play it off as polite interest. Slowly and smoothly people leave the house as the day goes by, the sun having set a couple of hours ago; and you walk into the kitchen, sitting on Price's lap with a sigh. 

“I know it isn't proper of a good host, but these shoes are killing me.” You announce looking at the three men as you bend down and take them off, a sigh of comfort leaving your mouth as you lean back on Price. “I'm also sure you have endurance worse than some stinky feet.” You joke with a tiny chuckle making them smile. 

“Everyone gone, darling?” Price asks, his hands resting on your lap as you nod smiling. He looks up to the boys as he says. “Better to tidy up then”

“Jonathan Price, don't be rude!” You exclaim looking at him. “They are your friends and there are more than enough rooms for them if they want to spend the night. They have been drinking too!”

“Mrs. Price.” John says with a teasing tone, standing up and helping you stand. “Talk to me for a second, love.”

Price bends down to pick your shoes up, holding your hand to walk you to the living room. They hear the two of you whispering back and forth, then silence and lastly the unmistakable sound of kisses. They peak behind the door, managing to see you sitting in the backrest of the sofa with Price standing between your legs, grinding his hips against yours. You moan softly against his lips, before pulling back and whispering something they can't make out; Price pulls back as well and they sit back on their chairs. 

Price walks in just a second later. “Lads… thank you for coming, I'll see you when I'm back from the honeymoon, now… OUT!” He barks the last word making Soap chuckle as they all finish their drink in a gulp and start to walk out of the house, congratulating Price on the marriage and walking out one by one; meanwhile, you remain completely out of sight for them.

“They gone?” You ask for the top of the stairs, looking at Price with a smile. 

“Yep.” Price says locking the door.

“You didn't have to kick them out like that, though.” You say cocking your head with a smile.

“Oh, yes, I did.” He says, turning around to start to walk up the stairs. 

“Why? Afraid they might join?” You say winking at him, making him laugh before he throws you over his shoulder making you shriek.

“Wouldn't you like that, you little minx!” He jokes, landing a smack on your asscheek. 

You gasp dramatically holding onto his clothes. “It's Mrs. Price to you, young man.”

He chuckles, making your body shake, before he throws you down on the bed; him instantly crawling on top of you. 

“Who's your husband, darling?”

“You, Mr. Price.”

A bit more of this

[gutsby]

Cabin Fever

Pairing: Dark!Joel x Dark!Reader

Summary: Joel saves your life, but help comes at a price.

Warnings: 18+. DEAD DOVE: DNE. NONCONSENSUAL. I’m never ever beating the insane bitch allegations, I fear. Protector-turned-pervert-turned-unwilling-captor-kinda. Corruption kink. Daddy kink. Somnophilia. Misogyny. “It’s too big; it won’t fit” + Joel “I’ll make it fit” Miller. Captivity on both ends. Oral (f!receiving). Gunplay. Oversimplified first-time anal. Uno Reverse Drugging. Evil, inexperienced reader meets evil, feral, slutty Joel. Attempted murder x3. Russian Roulette…as foreplay?

Notes: Both characters SUCK. I condone nothing they do. Please do not take any of their behavior or language to reflect my own moral predilections. That is all 🚬😵‍💫

You were hardly shaking at all when he’d found you chained, maimed, and frozen half to death on the plains.

He didn’t see that every day, that was for-fucking-sure.

Joel Miller barely got to see his share of happy, grinning girls on the cold and bitter frontier he inhabited. Ones that were tied to posts and clinging to life were even less common, so the sight of you there had almost frightened him at first. He’d approached you like one might advance upon a sleeping bear: with the utmost caution and a Winchester Model 70 levelled directly at your head.

He’d learned you were unarmed and defenseless in less than a second. He’d come to realize you were largely unconscious—and unclothed—even sooner than that.

He had been industrious in freeing your hands and feet from their restraints but never uttered a word as he did.

Even on the two-and-a-half mile trek back home, he hadn’t spoken once. You’d hung off his left shoulder like a pretty, frosted slab of meat, covered only with the sherpa blanket he’d secured around your neck, and dangled precariously down his back for the entire fifty minutes.

Your toes were two shades shy of onyx with frostbite.

Your limbs were hanging like lead over his chest.

A whisper of, ‘You’ll be fine, darlin’, I promise’ had just seemed ill-suited for the circumstances and his nature. In truth, Joel didn’t know if you’d be fine. You might die. The blood wouldn’t be on his hands one way or the other, but he never had liked burying bodies this time of year. He’d have to wait until April to break ground, at least.

Presently, he dropped your limp form to the floor of his cabin and hoped he wouldn’t be needing to bury anyone.

You sort of looked charming in the firelight.

He stomped off to the kitchen and began rifling for pans, preparing to defrost the icy stranger as best he could.

You didn’t die.

You didn’t wake for forty full hours, but you didn’t die.

When you stirred on the floor with warm sherpa around your shoulders and a rough calfskin rug under your ass, you thought you had died—maybe taken a pit stop in cowpoke purgatory while you were at it—but then you blinked. Breathed. Realized you were still very much inside your body and most likely still in Wyoming.

You sat up where you were and looked around.

“Da-a-d?”

You knew it was useless, calling for your father.

He had been dead almost eight months; you just wanted to double-check to make sure you were still on earth.

When dead dad didn’t answer, you tried someone else.

“Momma?”

Still no answer.

Figured, since she was among the ones that had left you chained outside in the first place. It’d been worth a shot.

You started to rise from your place, when a sharp pain in your side made you plop back down on the rug. You winced and lifted the blanket, then your old nightie.

A neat little taped-down bandage had your ribs encased in antiseptics and gauze. You frowned down at a stain in the centre, which looked to you an awful lot like blood. That circle of old fluids must’ve been twice the size of your fist and currently oozing tiny, fresh beads of blood from the strain you’d just exerted. You pursed your lips.

Least they could’ve done is kill me, not leave me here.

You’d take it up with your old would-be assassins another day, you were sure. Right now, you were parched, starving, in dire need of a piss, and reeling on the floor to grab hold of something sturdy to lift yourself. But you were as much a child then as you had ever been, swaying in place and clawing at air like someone who’d never kept their balance before. Or might’ve been drunk.

You rolled onto your good side and cast a sweeping look around the cabin. You smelled slow-cooked barbecue.

Thank fuck, you thought.

Now, if I were a juicy rack of ribs, where would I be?

The kitchen was dark and empty; the smell was coming from elsewhere. You craned your neck, tilted your chin, spotted a loft overhead but figured it wasn’t too likely to find someone grilling up there, so where the hell was it?

And who the hell was it, smoking meats and mending up strangers in the cold and lonely dead of winter like this?

You put a pin in that thought as you searched for a place to pee.

By the time you’d hobbled out of the bathroom, the smoky smell had grown even stronger. It was so pungent it bordered on vertiginous, invading every inch of the cabin with a force. Then it was leading you, teasing you by turns to venture outside. All you had on your feet were some oversized socks and two strips of medical tape.

Against your better judgment, you continued to hobble.

Out the door, down the steps, slowly, then following your nose and the first whiff of smoke you smelled to make it to the place you were almost certain you needed to be.

You trudged around a corner of the cabin’s exterior and stopped. Turned around. Cursed your own senses for being so stupid to miss the huge fucking shed spewing smoke out front—or was it the back?—and plodded on.

Your feet might have carried you a third of the way there before your powers of sight and sound eventually failed you again, and you missed another big something.

Big and beige and coated in snow—baring its teeth and snarling at the unfamiliar presence as soon as it saw you.

The next thing you knew, sixty-two pounds of Belgian Malinois had had you knocked to the ground in less than a second. You hardly understood what had hit you until it was barking and chomping away an inch from your face.

You fought hard and frantic to shove the ugly fucker off, but your bandaged hands were no match for its paws. The dog continued to tear at your blanket, nip at your ears, claw at your neck, and all around snuff out any sense of peace you might have acquired in the dozen-odd minutes since you’d first woken up. You screamed.

You yelled as loud as you could and felt yourself cower and sink lower into the snow as you fought.

Just when you tried to raise a knee—to kick the animal in the ribs or else protect your own—a sound broke out above the buzz.

A voice, clear as day:

“CUJO!”

The dog stalled on top of you a moment, just to be yanked off the next, and the closest thing afterward was a face—kinder than Cujo’s but not by very much.

It was a broad, bearded, pock-marked head with more soot to recommend itself than skin. Lips smeared with ash and grime and curved down in the single most decisive frown you’d seen in your life, the man looked to be beside himself seeing you tits up in the snow.

He gripped one arm of yours, then dropped it.

Picked a leg up, paused, then hauled you into a cradle carry as graceless as you’d ever felt it done before.

“Come!” he snapped, and it took you too long to realize that he was talking to the dog. You’d already wrapped your arms around his neck in abrupt complaisance.

He carried you back into the cabin and kicked the door open in front of you. He held you firm for a second, then, just as he had outside, changed course before you knew what to do and was shortly depositing you on the sofa.

You winced when your ass hit the cushion.

You started to sit, grab a pillow for your back or just bring your knees to your chest, when suddenly a palm was pressing flat on your front. Forcing you to lie down.

“Hey, hey!” you cried when the man started lifting the hem of your nightgown.

If he’d heard you at all, he didn’t show it. He just worked his thick, dirty fingers under the fabric and raised the white satin like he might the hood of a car. He frowned.

It was then that you noticed a blooming red splotch on your side, slowly overtaking the terra-cotta color of dried blood on the bandage and spreading out. Then a pain.

Instead of pushing the man’s hands away, you were holding them tight, wrestling that same touch which was trying to keep you from poking around the area now.

“Quit,” the man said, sedate as could be.

“Hurts,” was all you could think to tell him—and you guessed he’d already had that part down by the outpouring of blood. He shoved your hands off.

The brand new crimson hue had already soaked through the bandage. He pulled it off. You caught a glimpse of a wound that seemed to be weeping through its stitches—oozing pus and blood and a gore you could’ve gone your whole life without seeing. You would’ve liked to run a couple gentle, awed fingers over it, but as it was, your coarse and tight-lipped medic wouldn’t let you.

“Hold still,” he commanded.

“Heystopstopstop!” you implored him, feeling a streak of pain up your side as his calloused hands delved deeper.

At your latest flinch and plea, the man seemed to have had enough. Or just needed to angle your body in a different direction for easier access to the site. He gathered you back up in his arms and walked over to the kitchen, where he set you down again on the counter. Hands moved to your hips, briefly, to push you back on the surface and allow him to stand between your legs. Again, the man frowned as he peeled off your pyjamas.

Two warring fears of pain and overexposure fought like wild beasts in your brain for a second—you yelping and trying to cover your breasts in a hurry, then realizing how much it hurt to lift your arms that way when your ribs were dripping blood, then the man making the decision for you both as he pushed your hands behind your back and said a simple ‘Fuck’s sake’ to keep you pinned.

You didn’t like it.

You didn’t like it, and you let him continue, because you knew that you didn’t know shit about doing this yourself.

Joel must’ve fixed your dressings fourteen times before turning you loose. He’d had you perched atop his counter like goddamned Prisoner-of-War Barbie, all riddled with bumps, bruises, and lesions galore, looked your body up and down just once, and nearly grew sick at the sight.

He’d disgusted himself by feeling as aroused as he was.

Shortly thereafter, he’d toted you off—before the blood could rush down to his dick and start to swell—shrugged your gown over your torso, and stepped away. Simple.

Then you’d had to go and throw a wrench in his plans.

“What if I need to pee?” you’d said as soon as Joel started up the stairs with you in his arms again.

He had meant to drop you off on the bed in the loft, out of sight, but it seemed you were more concerned about the prospect of traversing the steps up and down for potty breaks. Joel had audibly huffed above you.

“I can leave a bucket.”

“Yu-uck.” The latter word had been given two syllables to show the full extent of your disgust, like a child might do.

And that was how you’d ended up here: snug in his bed on the ground floor, curled up in more layers of flannel and wool than you could count and staring blankly up at the man who was standing cold and aloof off to the side.

Your eyelids were growing heavy with sleep.

He figured they would be.

Joel picked up the glass that sat beside your empty one on the nightstand and drank, watching you all the while.

“D’you know my momma?” you asked, voice sounding extra small coming from the depths of your cocoon.

Joel finished his drink in four big gulps.

“Sure hope not,” he said once he’d set it back down.

By the sight of the scars he’d found littering your hands and back alone, Joel was able to surmise you’d come from a pretty rough, ragtag group. Maybe even Raiders. Knowing folks like that simply never struck one’s fancy, so he’d been honest. You might’ve argued, or laughed, if you hadn’t been nabbed so tightly in the grips of those first stages preceding sleep, so instead, you nodded.

“Figured,” you mumbled.

7:11, Joel read on the clock. You’d finished your drink at seven, or somewhere thereabouts. Judging by your size, it wouldn’t take long at all for the medicine to take effect.

‘Medicine,’ Joel thought, sounded a whole hell of a lot better than ‘drugs.’ One was meant to rehabilitate, rejuvenate, bring new life to your worn and weary bones. The other would just knock you cold and keep you there.

On second thought, those were definitely drugs Joel had just slipped in your water before giving it to you to drink.

As your eyes blinked from closed, to open, to closed, then open but slightly less open than the time before, and closed again, he felt a sick sense of accomplishment twist in his gut. If only his former-nurse friend could have seen what he was doing with those morphine sulfate tablets he’d traded for—he likely would’ve slapped Joel across the face. And Joel would’ve smiled all the same.

Yeah, okay, drugging the unsuspecting and defenseless female he’d just saved from death’s doorstep two days ago didn’t look great on paper, he would fully concede.

But this was all in good fun.

Great fun, even.

For him.

“Sick fuck,” Joel muttered as he started to undo his belt. The button and zip were taken apart just as fast, and with two steps, he was standing at your bedside—his bedside—and tugging his trousers down his legs. He took his cock in his hand and glanced over at the clock.

7:15.

He nudged your shoulder.

7:16.

Peeling layers of blanket away from your body.

7:17.

“Hey…honey?”

A lot more nothing from the girl sleeping in front of him. He shrugged his jeans to the floor, kicked them off at his feet, and moved onto the bed. You just looked so sweet.

Joel tried working around the fabric of his boxers but got impatient pretty quick. He hauled those off, too.

Soon, his beefy, bare, and surprisingly tan legs were bracketing your hips as he stroked himself above you. His eyes roamed the lax and tranquil features undeniably characteristic of sleep, and he pumped himself faster. Really, there was no need for theatrics or enhancements now—he was already hard as three tonnes of steel—but Joel would be lying if he said he didn’t like the build-up.

You were no longer in danger of dying, thanks to him. You were slowly but surely on the mend, no thanks to Cujo at all, but many thanks to him, Joel Miller, the man who had pried you off of that post, pulled you out of your chains, ushered warmth back into your limbs, and stitched up your side out of the goodness of his heart.

Any objective onlooker could see that you’d availed yourself of his medical attention and aid without ever asking, so why should he request access to you now? This was the way of the world these days, anyway. Sex was no longer so much a question as it was an answer in most scenarios—a mere transaction, wherein the physically weaker of two parties was forced to capitulate. Not within the four unsullied walls of Jackson and a few other pockets of homestead communities here and there, but on the whole, absolutely. Jackson was down the road a ways away and sufficiently far enough from Joel’s cabin for him to be disentangled from their rules. What mattered now was obtaining what he was owed.

Still, the man hesitated a half-second longer above you. He jerked his cock even faster and felt his stomach start to clench. Was that? No—nerves were fucking juvenile. Getting close to cumming from just the sight of you alone was for chumps. Joel Miller was no chump.

He lifted your nightie and lowered the head of his cock to rest between your folds. Then he shifted his knees so that he could rub himself gently against your warmth.

Joel Miller was a monster, but he was no brute. He also understood female anatomy well enough to know that, well…wetter was better. He started moving his hips.

You exhaled through your nose. Nothing major; you probably hadn’t even felt him long enough to whine.

Joel planted a hand beside your head—a preemptive warning.

“There…” He liked to talk as though you could hear him. Like you might be semi-conscious and dimly aware of what he was doing to you then, “Right there…ah, baby.”

He never did catch your name.

That was no matter. So long as you stayed put and made a nice, wet, pretty little hole for him to fuck, you would be fine. By the feel of your folds alone, he could tell you’d be a fun thing to use. Soft and snug and plied with drugs, you could do, and be, anything he damn well needed.

Or maybe nothing at all, he thought without humor.

Joel brushed your cheek with the knuckles of his free hand and watched you turn away, making a face. He snagged your chin and tilted it back to him, sharply, before gliding those fingers down your chest, then your tummy, then your hips, then dipping between your legs. He found your clit and pressed it with a deliberate touch.

“Hey,” Joel whispered, again, as though you might hear, “You’re gonna stay still and let me do this.”

Your nose scrunched in response, thighs clamping together. Joel pried them apart with one push and continued sliding his cock back and forth. He grunted.

“Gonna let me take what’s mine, hear?”

You didn’t hear much of anything, he suspected, but he asked the question all the same. At least now your legs were staying open and he could rut himself gently into that space without having to keep them spread. A first, gentle ‘mmph’ sounded from your lips, and he was glad. He kept thumbing that spot he knew you would like and rubbing along the seam of your cunt with his erection.

Then Joel felt a weight on his shoulders. Remorse? No. Anxiety? Perhaps. This felt more like a fog, though, seizing his muscles and seeping gently between the grooves of his brain. He gave his head a fierce shake.

“Hold still,” he said, more to himself; you hadn’t moved.

Joel fisted the base of his cock and angled the tip toward your entrance, caring much less whether you were ready or not now that his desires had grown stronger.

He was met with resistance on trying to push in. He dug his fingers in the pillow beneath your head and scowled.

“Quit…clenchin’…like that. Ain’t…fair to me,” he huffed.

He was one to talk.

Now, he’d been with a staggering number of women, experiences ranging all across the spectrum, but even the tightest, most untouched pieces of ass he’d ever tapped had given way more than this. Your walls were unyielding, refusing to give him entry. Joel cursed and rutted his hips in a rough, entirely unsuccessful, thrust.

You hummed in response, eyes still closed, one hand fumbling mindlessly for something to hold. Joel seized it.

“Not lettin’ you off that easy, darlin’, I—”

“Fuck,” you breathed, followed by a low whimper.

Joel froze. Had you heard him? Felt him just now?

Something about the uncertainty laden in those questions sent his mind into overdrive, heart beating a wild cadence in his chest. He realized then that his mouth had gone dry, his vision was skewed just slightly on the outskirts. And his cock was throbbing.

“Ya like that?” Joel seethed, not thinking, still rubbing, “Like givin’ daddy a hard time before lettin’ him in?”

“Uh-huh.” Softly.

You little slut. He knew it all along.

Whatever it was that kept your body from being coupled with his was almost immaterial to him now. Joel’s mind was swimming with desire, cock dragging in desperate, fitful bursts between your legs, never penetrating but still wringing massive jolts of pleasure from that place.

With the way he was feeling now, Joel could cum from just fucking your thighs. And that was alright.

You were moaning underneath him. Even…smiling?

“Fuck, baby, you look so pretty.”

Joel had never called a girl pretty before and meant it. But he hardly knew how else to describe you now with how good and sweet and fine you were making him feel. A strange warmth sank into his chest, making it harder to breathe, and then he was panting above you, as if he were really inside that dripping wet spot. He was close.

“Such a pretty…sweet…fuckin’ thing for me.”

That red, raging, leaky cock of his was almost a blur between your legs, he was thrusting against you so fast. Joel thought for one frightening second that it might be his skull that would explode instead, so high was that pressure between his ears, but his fears were promptly put to rest as the first rope of cum came stuttering out. Then another. Then another. Then another.

By the time he finished, he could’ve sworn he’d left a hundred spurts on your tummy. When Joel glanced down and saw a sea of opaque, sticky white, he groaned.

Then he fell. Fully collapsed at your side with his brain in a tizzy of wild, heady feelings and sank into himself.

He hadn’t even fucked you, and he felt like he had.

He lifted a hand to wipe away his spend, but he couldn’t.

He would get to it in the morning, before you stirred, he thought. He thought. He didn’t have the chance to think much longer at all, as darkness started hedging him in.

He slept.

It was 7:57 when he woke.

The man had no real way of knowing that, though, seeing as he was greeted with a nickel-plated revolver between his teeth the second he opened his eyes.

You were straddling his torso, gun pinched between two calm, bandaged hands. You frowned when he jumped.

“WH—” he started.

“Shut up.”

“ST—”

“I said shut,” you cocked the gun, holding it tighter, then shoving it even further inside his mouth, “the fuck. up.”

The man obeyed.

‘Joel M.’—you’d read the name etched on the butt of his pistol before picking it up some twenty minutes ago.

“Pretty fuckin’ thing,” you mocked the man’s Texan drawl as you wiggled the barrel even deeper along his tongue, “Like givin’ daddy a hard time before lettin’ him in?”

The man’s eyes widened.

How dumb did he think you were?

Offering a semi-clear liquid that should’ve been water; he hadn’t even waited for the morphine tablet to fully dissolve before handing it over to you. Fucking idiot.

You were more disturbed by the fact he’d thought you stupid enough not to notice than him actually trying to drug you. The latter was almost to be expected from predatory, execrable men like him, but the insult to your intelligence? Unacceptable. You’d remedied that affront fairly quickly, though, swapping his glass with yours the second he hadn’t been looking, then nestling into his bed and playing pretend for what had felt like an eternity.

You’d been awake the whole time the man touched you, not knowing what the hell was going on but feeling like you had to stay still. Let him finish. Out of fear, at first, then curiosity, then some strange and unfamiliar sensation that you couldn’t quite describe as anything but a pleasurable itch between your legs. You let the man continue, hearing him grunt and groan and swear up a storm before he shot something hot all over your tummy. By the end of it all, you knew it was wrong, and you knew it was dirty—though you weren’t sure exactly what it was that he had done—but you wanted to learn more.

Which was probably why you hadn’t just shot the old pervert right between his eyes the second he’d stirred.

You shifted atop this ‘Joel M.’ and frowned once more.

“Why’d you stop?”

Gun still wedged in his mouth, Joel’s voice sounded garbled as he spoke, “Wha-agh-at?”

You retracted the metal just long enough to pose the question again. When you had, he still looked stunned.

“Answer me,” you barked, and feeling your patience lapse, got straight to pistol-whipping the motherfucker upside his half-grey head, “You DUMB, or somethin’?”

The man sputtered again.

“No, no— I don’t— dunno what you mean.”

He sounded dumb. You would need to spell this out.

“Why did you stop rubbing me like that?”

If anything, the clarification only seemed to baffle him further. He opened his taut, bearded mouth, then closed it, then eyed you up and down with a look that said he was considering something. Then he stared at one spot.

You glanced down at it too.

“And what is this, anyway?” you asked, swiping one finger at the mostly dried moisture on your stomach, “Why’d you spit this stuff up all over me, huh?!”

“I ain’t—”

You raised the gun as if to hit him again. He jolted back.

“I didn’t mean— shit. Shit, I just…came on you, ‘s’all.”

“Came?”

The word hung in the air like a grenade, waiting. Mr. M was already bracing himself for the impact, it seemed.

“Came?!”

That bracing served him well, because in the next second you were lifting the weapon even higher and eyeing him with the most pointed, putrid look of disdain. You’d never been one for letting grenades go untouched.

“Ejaculated!” Joel hissed, lifting a hand to shield himself, “Felt— felt so good I just couldn’t stop and I-I-I came.”

You paused.

Came. Felt good. Couldn’t stop.

You had felt good when he’d rubbed you. You had not wanted him to stop. But then he had. And you were mad. You’d never been touched that way in your life, and now you were feeling fifteen hundred emotions at once.

Were you supposed to ‘come,’ too? Why did he stop?

“Why didn’t you let me…ejaculate, too?” The words felt foreign and strange on your tongue.

For the first time, you saw one side of Joel’s lips twitch. Evidently fighting the urge to turn them into a smile.

“Girls don’t really…do that,” he said. Then, after a beat, “Why? Ain’t ever had your pussy rubbed on by a man?”

You shortly landed the blow you’d been holding over his head, splitting the skin along his brow with one hit from the butt of his gun. Joel jumped again, then moaned.

“Crazy bitch!”

“Creepy fuck.”

Your eyes narrowed with loathing, unable to comprehend how a man so vile had just made you feel so good. Your stomach was twisting in knots while Joel rubbed his forehead, pawing helplessly at the gash you’d just left.

“I saved your life,” he grumbled, low, “You owed me.”

“Did I?”

Abruptly, and without really thinking, you were sinking the muzzle of the gun into the spot you’d just cut, mouth kicking up in a smile at the sounds of pain it elicited.

“Did I, Joel?” you cooed.

“How the— the fuck do you know my name?”

Momentarily, you yanked the revolver from his face and tilted it to show him his name carved into the bottom.

“What’s the ‘M’ stand for? ‘Molester’?”

“Means ‘mind’ your fucking business,” he spat.

You probably would’ve hit him again had it not seemed as though he were trying to sit up just then. You slid swiftly from his frame—just to take a step off the bed, gun still pointed at his head. Then you backed away.

One by one, rapidly, you unloaded the bullets from the cylinder, maintaining a safe distance from the man all the while. You watched him blink and try to get some thing from his eyes, but he didn’t seem keen to move.

You left just one live round inside. You made a point to spin the cylinder and, again, aim it straight at his head.

The man was blinking even harder. Rubbing now, too.

“I feel…” Joel murmured.

“Drugged?” you returned, “Yeah, that must suck.”

A set of wide, irate, and horrified eyes met yours. His mouth hung open in a stupid look of shock. Trying to piece the last bits of this fucked up jigsaw puzzle together and growing angrier by the second.

“You fuckin’—”

Joel’s words were cut short by the weight of your body barreling back over his. Graceless, you imagined, but still nothing close to something you cared about now. You planted your knees on either side of his ribs and grazed the tip of the six-shooter down the length of his nose.

“Tell me,” you said, “How’d you make it feel so good?”

Your hips twisted for effect, jostling the man’s own parts beneath yours and clearly causing some effect in him. The muscles in his jaw jumped up as he gritted his teeth.

“You know damn well, slut,” Joel griped.

Without another thought, you squeezed the trigger.

Click.

The man’s whole body lurched underneath you. Trembling with the realization that you’d left just one lone bullet for him—and he didn’t know which chamber.

As far as foreplay went, Russian Roulette was probably a first, even for a man as wanton and depraved as Joel. You smiled sweetly and made another gyration with your lower half, which prompted him to grip you. Tight.

“What? Ya want me to fuck you, is that it?” he growled.

“I thought it wouldn’t fit.”

“I’ll make it fit.”

“How?”

Try as you might to conceal it, your gaze likely betrayed a hint of sincerity as you made that last inquiry. Joel’s eyes flickered between yours, searching for something there, and just when those glossy brown irises had found it, they stopped. Blinked. He shook his head, incredulous.

“My mind ain’t…right,” he said, slowly, “But I— I know you know what I mean by that, sweet pea.”

Something in your tummy fluttered at the sound. You gripped the pistol tighter to get rid of the feeling.

“I don’t,” you answered.

Again, Joel was stumped. For the first time, though, there appeared to be some sympathy behind his eyes. Or stupidity. Or just a shit ton of morphine coursing through his veins as he tried to make sense of this situation.

As if to confirm an idea in his drug-addled brain, he lowered a hand between your legs and hovered there a second. He watched you; you watched back but didn’t move.

Then slowly, almost clinically, Joel slipped two fingers underneath you and found a soft, pulsing warmth—far wetter than the last time he’d touched down there. When he pulled his hand away, both fingers and half of his palm were glistening with a fluid. You let out a startled cry at the sight of it and nearly dropped your gun.

“What is that?!”

Joel looked to you, equally awed—for different reasons.

“What do you mean?”

“Why’s it all…sticky?”

You couldn’t even try to hide your horror at the thought of that weird, syrupy stuff leaking out of you. It was strange enough feeling it come out of a freak like Joel, but from your own body? He had to be fucking joking.

“It’s normal.”

“Like hell it is— you— STOP!” The last fragment of your sentence was swallowed by a scream, leaping back when Joel moved his fingers toward your face.

“What? You’ve never seen this?” He sounded like he was teasing. You could shoot him for how smug he sounded.

In very small amounts, you’d seen stuff. Blood every month. Bits and pieces of bodily secretions that, to you, had always seemed gross. But never this. Never big, sticky globs of…whatever the fuck this was. You continued to back away on the bed, gun still tipped toward Joel but now trying to put some distance between your bodies. You didn’t know how else to act.

You did know you wanted to scream when Joel stuck his fingers in his mouth. Bile might’ve jumped in your throat.

He sucked the dew clean off the digits, then wriggled them to show what he’d done. You felt the urge to vomit.

“That came from— from— why are you eating it?!”

Joel grinned. Big.

You weren’t sure why, but he looked psyched to be alive in that moment, and not just because of the narcotics.

Before you knew what was happening, he’d pushed you flat on your back, hips pinned underneath his hands as he moved over your body. He didn’t even try for the gun.

“And here I was thinkin’ you were just fuckin’ with me,” he chuckled, palms sliding under your nightdress. When you felt the residuum of wetness from his spit and your slick stuck together on his fingers, you wanted to squeal.

But you didn’t. You tried propping yourself up on elbows until Joel was sliding your one and only article of clothing over your head, then beckoning you down on the bed in front of him. You watched his gaze flit down to your side.

“Still hurt?” he murmured, tracing over the bandage.

You shook your head no, though it did, a little. At the moment, it seemed the pain was the furthest thing from your mind as you saw Joel slide down your body and try to take up residence between your thighs—with his face planted right there. You kicked his shoulder in protest.

“Quit!” you cried, pulling your legs up to your chest.

“You quit,” Joel returned, yanking them back.

Then you felt you had no choice but to brandish the gun, taking the thing between two palms while you pointed it again—as if he needed the reminder.

“Fine. Why don’t you keep that thing aimed at my head while I give you some?” he muttered. The subsequent ‘See if I give a shit’ was silent.

“Give me some what?”

“Head.”

Head. You’d never heard something phrased that way. Joel’s head was down there, sure, practically grinning from ear to ear as he hooked your legs over his shoulders, but certainly he didn’t mean to do a thing as drastic and dirty as—

“JOEL!”

“Hm?” His voice was muffled by your thighs.

You tried to shy away, but he held you down.

“Joel, I— I pee out of there,” you hissed, “Why the fuck would you wanna put your mouth on that?”

As if your groans of disgust and vehement attempts to get away weren’t enough to deter him, you watched Joel’s tongue dart between his lips and down to yours. The sick fuck was actually licking your folds, tracing the tip across that warm, sticky place and moaning into your skin. Holding you tighter when you pleaded for him to stop. Then, with the hand that wasn’t prying your legs apart, he reached down and started stroking his cock.

Again, it felt dirty and wrong. Beyond the fact that this man was a perfect stranger and easily decades your senior, you were repulsed by the sight of his lips and his tongue and his spit mixing up in that messy, wet place you still didn’t quite understand yourself. You didn’t know much about your body, but it had never once occurred to you to be kissed down there. Joel was roaming every contour and crevice with his tongue like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he liked it.

“I hate it,” you whined, feebly.

You knew you could’ve easily blown the man’s brains out, but some small part of you was still plagued by curiosity. ‘Hate’ was just the first word that came to mind when you were faced with something that made you scared.

“It’s weird,” you tried again. This time pressing the gun to the top of his bobbing head while you grit your teeth, “And wrong.”

At that, Joel stopped.

His eyes flickered to yours, all glass-like and hooded.

“Why? Practically lickin’ ya clean here,” he said, starting to grin to himself as his words came slightly slurred, “There’s nothin’ wrong about this, sweet pea.”

You felt something flutter between you. He felt it, too.

“Like when I call ya that? ‘Sweet pea’?” he said, pausing to flick his tongue over the spot that had just stirred at his words. He watched you fight back a whimper.

“No,” you choked. You pinched your eyes shut, unsure whether it was pleasure or pure revulsion overtaking you—or both.

Suddenly, you felt Joel’s hand smooth over your thigh, still warm from when he’d been stroking himself below. He placed an affectionate kiss to your belly and grinned.

“Is that what this is? Feel guilty about feelin’ this good?” he murmured, “Think it’s…dirty, what we’re doin’?”

At length, and just barely visible to him, you nodded.

“It is dirty,” you corrected him quietly.

Then you saw that stupid pseudo-sympathetic smirk tug at the corners of his lips, and just when you thought he might nudge his way back up your body—to do what, you weren’t sure—he sank between your legs. This time, he made sure to hold your gaze as he re-assumed the position. His palm continued to rub at your thigh, as if to distract you from the rough brush of his stubble or the fact that his mouth was hovering so dangerously close.

“Sweet pea,” he rasped, “Ain’t nothin’ dirty about this.”

As if to punctuate his words, Joel dragged his lips down your slit to press a kiss to your centre, eyes never leaving yours.

“Not here…”

He pointed with his tongue, moving it deftly between your folds. You gripped the sheets, trying to ignore the pleasure that the simple act wrought through your body.

“Not here.”

He kissed your clit. You squeezed even tighter.

“Not on my tongue, on my fingers, anywhere, y’hear?”

You were about to answer—maybe tell him he was supremely full of shit, then flash the gun in his face—when Joel shifted onto his knees on the bed. He moved slowly and as calm as he ever had, motions languid while his mind was likely steeped in the morphine by now. He snagged one of your ankles. He slid his hand up the back of your calf and tugged you down to the edge of the bed. Then he stood up, right between your legs. The warmth radiating from his bare lower half was immediate, almost suffocating from where you lay. You didn’t like it at all.

You refused to meet his gaze, grip tightening on the gun.

“Joel…”

When that warmth at your front shifted inward, though, you hardly had a say in what your reflexes did or didn’t do. You jumped when you felt the head of his dick slip past your pulsing core, closer to the other hole below it.

“Not here, either,” Joel continued, grin still evident from his tone.

Before you could even think to ask what he meant to do ‘here,’ Joel moved one of your legs up, tilting your hips, and pushed ahead with just the tip of his cock. Not breaching it fully, but nudging—prodding at that hole.

For the first time, you let out a moan.

You hastily clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle it.

“Aw, honey,” Joel murmured, “Did that feel good?”

His words reeked of condescension. You scowled at the ceiling.

“No.”

You felt him push a little further—this time making the head of his dick notch into that tight ring of muscles.

No, the word rang through your skull once more. Your curiosity was shortly supplanted by disgust—how the fuck could you let this creepy old man, this stranger, press into you like that? Talk to you like you were dumb? You seized hold of Joel’s pistol with both hands and aimed directly for his chest.

“Stop doing that,” you growled. When the man’s grip on your leg only tightened and you couldn’t writhe away, you lifted the other and tried kicking him in the gut. Of course, Joel caught your foot midair, and it never landed.

“Just givin’ ya options, darlin’,” he said, easy-going. Not seeming to care about the firearm pointed his way.

Fuck it.

You squeezed the trigger again.

Empty chamber.

If Joel flinched, you didn’t see it. He did, however, knock the gun right out of your hand the next second, sending it tumbling with an unceremonious thump on the bed behind you. You tried to leap back for it, but your arm was quickly pinned. Joel cocked one silver-flecked brow.

“You done?” he asked, almost bored.

Your last—and only—leverage taken away from you, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anger. And desperation.

“I don’t wanna do this,” you cried, trying to squirm away.

Joel didn’t move his cock, but he did hold you still. Blinking with indifference and a fair bit of drug-induced dissociation, it seemed, from the far-away look in his eyes. He pushed both of your legs so they were folded up to your chest, and ignored your whimpers when he did. At length, he pulled out just enough to smear some of your wetness down to the hole he was trying to fuck.

“You want this,” he countered gently.

“I DON’T!”

Joel continued as though he hadn’t heard you, and moments later, you sensed another slick something pooling against you. From your position beneath him, you could see a bead of spit slip from Joel’s mouth and stretch into a thin, glistening string all the way down to the space between your thighs. You watched him rub the saliva in with his fingers, almost meticulous as he did it.

Then he eased his hips forward an inch, wedging himself back in your ass. He groaned when he felt resistance—and a sharp clench of your muscles.

“I can teach ya…show ya everything…there is to know.”

His words somehow made it out through ragged breaths. That broad, tan chest was heaving with every labored pull of his lungs, and you could tell he was feeling good.

You might’ve been able to say the same for yourself, were your mind not singly occupied by the desire to escape. Still at war with yourself, wondering how it would feel or what you might see that first time, all the while despising the man who seemed hell-bent on forcing it.

He might’ve saved your life, but there was no fucking way he’d get to use you like that and stay breathing.

You were raised better than that.

You could do better than anything this man had to offer.

You resolved to kill him as soon as the drugs knocked him out—just like you’d had planned from the second you woke up on the floor of his cabin that afternoon.

Of course being chained, maimed, and frozen half to death on the plains for some well-meaning stranger to find you had always been part of your mother’s—and the rest of the Raiders’—grand plan. Having this stupid, horny sap take you into his home with the hope of claiming you as his own was just the icing on top.

Now you had a reason to kill Joel and steal all his shit.

At present, he fed another inch of himself inside you and grinned when you let out a startled cry.

“Atta girl,” he said, smirking, “Feelin’ okay?”

“Fuck you.”

“Will do.”

Then, as if to prove a point, he bottomed out, sheathing his cock to the hilt in spite of your cries. Your hands fisted the sheets, and you tried to pull off. It didn’t work.

In fact, all it accomplished was giving Joel more room to thrust back into you. And pull out. And shove back in. The snap of his hips was like cruel and excruciating clockwork, completely unhindered by your words or your gestures or your pleas to stop fucking doing that Joel, it fucking hurts! If anything, the sounds of your censure only got him harder, and with it, made it that much easier to fuck you rougher. His eyes shone with pride.

“What’s’at, sweet pea?” he hummed, strokes coming into a steady pace.

“It’s too…big…doesn’t fit,” you whimpered.

In response, Joel glanced down to see the spot where your bodies were joined. He pushed even deeper.

“Yeah?” he said when you yelped, “I think it fits just fine.”

Motherfucker, you wanted to wail, but then your neck craned sideways—your mouth trying to find purchase in anything you might grit between your teeth—and the only thing that escaped your throat was a sob. You tried burying your face in the comforter, only for Joel to yank it back.

Cupping your chin and pinching both your cheeks in a single, punishing squeeze as he continued to fuck you, “What’s the matter, darlin’? Too much?”

You groaned and clenched your jaw, head jerking away.

Per usual, Joel was undeterred. Even smiled.

“My pretty girl need somethin’a bite, huh?” he hummed.

He probably knew you wouldn’t nod, so he went ahead and decided to oblige that one need he saw anyway. Snagging your nightie, Joel raised a hand to your face and proceeded to push the fabric inside your mouth.

Just as he started to lift his hips to deliver another thrust, he had to stop. A sudden, sharp ‘FUCK!’ left his mouth, then a groan, and his hand retreated fast.

You’d bitten him.

You were grinning just a little, and you’d bitten him.

Joel promptly slapped you across the face. If you weren’t so fucking amused by the sight of his bright red fingers, you just might’ve winced. Instead, the smile stayed on your lips, the slap barely registered, and, to your utmost disbelief, something else had just then started to form.

Pleasure, in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuckin’—” Joel snarled.

“Shit,” you finished, eyes rolling back.

You couldn’t help it. Joel was rutting into you relentlessly. That brief hand bite detour had only stoked the flames of his hatred—and arousal—and now he was practically splitting you in half with the force of his thrusts. He slapped you once more for good measure.

“Oh, that you fuckin’ like?” he seethed, cheeks flushed, “Can’t get off with my…tongue on your cunt, but a slap— and my cock buried deep in your ass gets the job done?”

“Uh-huh,” you answered softly. Mindlessly.

Really, there were no two people more fucked up than you in this moment, you thought. Joel growing harder with each desperate objection of yours, you going all soft and hot and bothered the second he slapped your face and fucked you rougher, and together, the two of you letting out grunts and moans of pleasure while the bed shook like an earthquake just shy of a 9.5 on the Richter scale. Were you not already planning to slit the man’s throat after all of this was over, you just might’ve wanted to marry this Joel M for how wonderfully he fucked you.

You let him know as much when you seized his forearms.

Bouncing into his thrusts, you bit your lip and finally met his gaze. Joel’s eyes were trained in somewhat of a daze, pupils all but swallowing his irises as he fucked you.

“Like being daddy’s little cocksleeve, huh?”

Only the sentence was slurred so bad you could scarcely make out half the words. You nodded just the same.

“Like it when he fucks you in the ass?” Joel panted.

You nodded again.

That pleasure in your belly had worked its way up to a full swell—and whatever it was, you couldn’t bear the thought of losing it now. You gripped Joel’s arms even harder as his chest swayed into you, then sank further and further until your fronts were pressed flush to each other and your ankles were hooked tight around his back.

It almost felt intimate. That coarse, weathered, sweat-coated face spattered with patches of grey seemed to you nearly handsome as his lips hung limply in an ‘o.’

Joel’s cock dragged back and forth between your walls at this new, snug angle, and moans fell out of you both.

“Baby.” His voice was hoarse. Strained.

You couldn’t quite make sense of the expression above you, but there was an unmistakable, muted desperation lurking somewhere beneath it. Joel rutted into you quicker, balls leaving rapid smacks against your ass with every thrust. His hair was disheveled, and his hands were making fists in the sheets on either side of your head.

“Joel—”

“Jus’ lemme use you.”

Words so low they were barely audible as he panted.

“But—”

“Daddy’s…almost done, sweet pea. Just take it.”

You were surprised he’d had it within himself to be so soft. A peculiar sort of haze hung over his face, the pace of his hips picked up even more, and suddenly those plush pink lips were hovering a mere hair’s breadth away from yours. Mumbling. Rambling on and on about how wet you were, how perfect you fit him, how nice and sweet and tight your body felt as he fucked you stupid.

That sensation in your own stomach grew even stronger.

Unsure of what to do, you pressed a palm to his chest.

“Joel, I…I feel funny,” you whispered.

Joel hummed. Didn’t slow.

“I know.”

He knew?

“What’s it—ah, fuck.” Your words broke off in a whimper.

Instead of proffering a verbal response, Joel just slipped a touch between your bodies—thumbing sloppily between your folds to earn a couple more high-pitched moans. Your legs tightened around his middle.

“Joel, s-stop!”

It felt so good it almost hurt. He didn’t stop.

“S’just an orgasm, baby,” Joel panted, “You’re okay.”

And, in spite of his own impending climax and the effect of the drugs likely reaching a fever pitch inside him, Joel managed to slide his other hand beneath the back of your head. Cradled you to him while he fucked you into the bed and made you come unraveled with his touch. You tried to writhe away, but he was used to the drill by now—he just fucked you harder and rubbed you faster.

Whatever he wanted would come soon. You doubted there was anything you could do to stop it, but you tried.

Without thinking, you grabbed hold of the damp locks of hair at the nape of his neck and yanked on them hard.

“Joel, I can’t— I can’t,” you keened.

The hand at the back of your head held you firm.

“You can,” Joel returned, tough but surprisingly calm, “Give it to daddy, ‘s’all ya gotta do.”

What exactly ‘it’ was was still unclear. You just knew you felt good and warm and full—about ready to burst. When you felt tempted to give his hair another tug, Joel’s eyes met yours, and they were soft. Insistent, still, but soft.

Dilated as all hell and probably swimming in clouds of a delirious, bleary haze, but always soft. Almost tender.

“Be a good girl and give it to daddy,” Joel slurred, slow, “C’mon, sweet pea…cum for daddy, please.”

For the first time in that short, rough, utterly deranged time you had known this man, he was begging you. Pleading with you, now, as his body grew overwrought with pleasure and just needed release. You needed it, too, not even knowing how you would get it, but the force of his thrusts, the warmth of his body, the look in those warm, bare, powerless eyes—you fucking loved whatever it was that could make a man like that so weak.

You had to strike while the iron was hot. You slid back.

Joel didn’t notice, too focused on your face and the feel of your body to see when you’d reached for the gun.

Just as you took hold of it, a jolt of pleasure tore through you. Your heels dug into his back, and you nearly lost control of the pistol. Joel groaned in your mouth, begged you once again to cum all over this cock, make a fuckin’ mess of it, baby, please, and you could only whine, grip the metal tighter, and raise it slowly to the side of his head while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

The peak of your pleasure had come into view. You felt it.

You nudged the muzzle through those soft, slick, salt-and-pepper shaded tufts of hair near the edge of his temple right when the first throes of euphoria seized you.

“FUCK!”

You squeezed the trigger.

[bunnys-kisses]

lovingly dominant

capt. john price

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/30s), size difference/kink, dom/sub dynamic, bdsm au, virgin!reader, light bdsm, praise (kink)

a/n: in a surprising twist, bunny has written call of duty again!! expect more cod stuff into december when the f1 season is over and it stops eating my brain <3

john price considered himself a little old fashioned. he thought it was better to have his birdie of the week on her back and rut into her until they both finished. he had no need for whips, chains, collars, and whatever else the world of bdsm had to offer.

but after so many missions and so many years, the pollution of combat bled into his sexual desires. he craved for control, near domination of his birdie. yes, they looked cute on their backs and their soft noises. but it looked far more appealing to keep her blindfolded, second guessing what was being done to her while price's filthy words spilled across her brain like wine on a white carpet. tainting her. tainting you.

most dominants loved a trained submissive. loved that they knew the ins and outs of the dynamic, tinkering to their liking. price on the other hand had a thing for over eager virgins. ones who got all their bdsm know-how from horribly written fan fiction. he liked to teach and guide, he liked to shape his submissive into the perfect image of what could be.

and when he met you, oh, well something else came up. an unwavering possessive need. price tried to not get possessive, this was all just a little game for sexual pleasure. but when he found out his little trainee worked at a flower shop, it was all over for him. it was only doubled down when you had your first meeting at a coffee shop and you got the most delicious looking slice of strawberry shortcake.

the cream on the corner of your mouth almost made john price lose resolve. instead he covered up with a cough before you asked, "do you want some, mister price." and who was john price to deny such a lovely girl her offer. you even fed it to him, a glimmer in your eye and gentle smile.

"it's lovely, baby girl." he said before he wiped a bit of the cream off his beard which made you giggle. that giggle seared into his brain and he knew that you weren't getting with any other man.

you met at his flat a few weeks later, and you were eager. price liked that. sex was only half as fun when the person he was fucking was almost having a good time. you came over in a big sweatshirt and jeans that were a little baggy, something that covered up. it made price curious as to what was hiding underneath.

"look beautiful, birdie." he said as he guided you inside and you got your sneakers off. you looked over at him to help you through the flat. you held onto him a little nervous, the only familiar thing in the place. price held you by the middle and let you press your face up against his strong chest.

he was in a flannel with a white undershirt and jeans. you could see the gold chain around his throat and the heavy chest hair. you had seen him naked from photos shared and he had seen you naked, but to feel it up close left a shiver of excitement through you. he leaned down and kissed you on the top of your head as he led you to the bedroom.

he said, "afterwards, i'll make ya some dinner. not the best chef, but, i can cook ya somethin' to replenish the energy you spent fucking me." he then ruffled your hair, which made your heart leap and he got you onto the bed.

you nodded meekly, you looked so small. so innocent. a girl like you should be on dated with finance guys or even the artsy kind. not a weathered, older military man like him. but even things in smaller packages can be surprising, just like when you took off your clothes and revealed a matching set of bra and panties. a soft grey colour with pastel yellow accents. it made price have to adjust himself in his jeans.

"ah, pretty girl got a surprise for me. how sweet?"

you nodded, "i wanted to make tonight special. good luck for a long... dynamic between us. so, you don't get rid of me if i suck." and soon you were in price's embrace while you still sat on the bed. your cheek pressed hard against his soft but firm middle.

he petted your head a little and said, "ah, don't worry, petal. even if you do bad tonight, i got every intention of trainin' ya. make you the perfect girl." the words spoken hit right to your core and when he pulled away long enough to strip down, you felt your eyes go wide for a moment.

a photo couldn't capture every inch of john price's skin. the scars, the tattoos, the hair, the muscle, the fat. he was like a big brown bear and it made you soaked. you shifted a little in your spot on the bed and rubbed your thighs together in anticipation. it was surprising that you were still a virgin, but you always chickened out. now as an adult, you wanted to just get it over with. but, you wanted to have fun. and why not have fun with a well experienced dom who wouldn't half-ass your first time. it didn't hurt that he had the kind of looks that would make any man with half a brain jealous.

"i hope i meet expectations." he chuckled as he put his hands on his hips. his cock stood at full attention and you swallowed. there was something so masculine about him, but not in a toxic way. he played with your hair once more before he patted your cheek, "no need to gawk, petal. i'm not goin' anywhere." and you swallowed. he chuckled before he got into bed with you and slowly unwrapped you of your lingerie like delicate christmas paper.

he hadn't been this excited to upwrap something since he got the toy firetruck as a kid. but in total fairness, you were hotter than any fire red truck. his hands grazed across your body with total tenderness and his hungry blue eyes gazed the skin.

the stretch marks, the moles, your own scarring. you were beautiful in ways that price couldn't describe. to compare you to something would be unfair to the thing being compared to your beauty. he took you by the wrist and kissed the center of it.

"this is a promise, petal. for as long as you keep me as your dominant and you my submissive, i with cherish you, adore you, and most of all. make sure that you cum over and over again." before he kissed you on the lips and got you onto your back. he admired you, "usually i like to take pretty things on their hands and knees. but, tonight's gotta be special, right, doll?"

you nodded.

he tapped your nose and said, "ah, ah, ah. that won't cut it. the words are 'yes, sir', got it? would hate to bruise that little behind during our first time."

you found your voice and said, "yes, sir." and was met with a rough pat on the cheek before price pulled away to rest on his knees to fuck you with just right. you felt heat course through your body as you took in the sight of him. burly, large from top to bottom.

course dark hair on his body, a little heft in his middle (but who didn't love that), a sparkle in his blue eyes, and hands large enough to break things between the digits. he admired you in return and said softly, "pretty little petal, yeah? ah, who let ya be so beautiful?" he chuckled as he rubbed his cock up against your slick sex, "i got so much to teach ya. how to tie ya up, how to gag ya properly. mmm, we'll have so much fun." he then pulled away to grab a condom from the nightstand. he held up the silver foil to you and said, "rule one, play safe or don't play at all."

you nodded and remembered to reply, "yes, sir."

price gave you a smile that lit you up and said, "good girl." then quickly got the condom on. he admired your soaked sex for a moment longer, "she achin' for me, huh? cute." then slowly, almost agonizingly, he inched into you and felt the spread of warmth through his body.

heaven was created with your pussy in mind. price was never a quick finisher, but he almost finished inside of you when he managed to get all of himself inside of you. he kept eyes and ears open, the type of examining done in his line of work, to make sure that you weren't in too much pain.

"ya alright?"

you nodded and swallowed.

price added, "baby girl. words." and then nodded his head when you replied that everything was okay, he nodded and said, "roger that." which made you pussy clench. a smile spread across price's face as he leaned forward. he captured your hands in his and pressed them to the bed under you. he chuckled lowly, "ah, someone likes a military man? a man in uniform gets ya goin'?" he kissed your pulse point, "ah, too cute, petal. i guess seeing that on my description didn't scare ya off." he rocked against you, "know it's a crime to mess up a man's uniform."

you swallowed, "sir. fuck." and felt the strike of heat through your body. you had to admit, you had seen a few photos of him in uniform. the beret, boots and all. and it made something turn in your stomach. only added an appeal to him that made you hot.

price replied, "i guess it worked out. because i like cute little civilians who are more than eager to make me feel good. doin' your civic duty makin' me cum, baby girl." these was a tension in his voice that made you heart hammer and your throat feel tight. the bed squeaked a little under the both of you as he continued his movements. he knew he was going to have an amazing time with you.

you whined, "please, sir."

"tell me. tell me what ya like about it? what gets my baby girl goin'? i gotta know, because maybe i can get somethin' together that'll rock your world." his words were hot and your cunt fluttered around his achy, hard cock. for a moment he was uncertain if you were actually a virgin, you took him so well.

you moaned when you felt a spark of pleasure in your core, your entire life had just been your hands and an assortment of toys. but to have price work your body beautifully was something else. you replied sweetly, "i... i want to thigh ride you in uniform." you felt a flush of embarrassment.

he chuckled, "oh that would be quite the sight, huh?" he continued to move against you beautifully, "i bet that i could make ya cum just from my thighs. rub your cunt all over it, messin' up the fabric. higher-ups will be wonderin' about the pussy stains all over the fabric. maybe if i'm lucky i'll get some of your wetness in my beard. let 'em smell you on me." and well, that excited you deeply.

you arched your back a little bit, but price kept you pinned perfectly under him. you tightened your thighs around him and he continued to work your body. it wasn't rough sex, but it also wasn't boringly soft either. he worked you at a steady pace, like a man with immense stamina. he eyed the bounce of your breasts and he moved against you.

he licked his lips at the sight of you, "baby girl." he purred, "you're a dirty girl. but don't worry." he soon held onto your wrists instead of your hands, a further act of domination, "i like 'em dirty. i like girls i can sink my teeth into. soon enough you won't be able to cum unless it's my fingers, tongue or cock in you. ya got the kind of soft skin that would bruise perfectly. but be careful, petal, i can be quite mean with a paddle." and it was met with a heavy moan. music to his ears.

you had never been spoken to like this before, but it excited you. you wanted to be price's dirty girl any day of the week. you felt excitement cross over you as he picked up the pace. the two of you fucked heavily and it left a taste of want in your mouth. this was better than anything you hoped for. it wasn't just that price checked boxes on a superficial level, he knew exactly how to make you squirm and moan. heavy noises came from your mouth as he worked your achy cunt, you felt amazing.

"ya like knowin' that i'm your first. big, scary captain makin' a mess of the sweetest cunt in the world. knowin' in a way, i got ya for life." he licked his lips. he liked that you were pure in that way, call him old fashioned. but knowing that he got to have you first was sort of like getting the first slice of cake at a party. something he wished to sweetly devour. and with you it was with heavy thrusts and filthy words. taint you to his liking.

you whined as you clenched your fists, you tensed up and he loved the feeling. he could almost read your mind with how sweet you felt. he could nearly feel your heartbeat as he fucked you. he loved the sight of you, you looked damn near perfect under him. you said between heavy pants, "please, sir. fuck, please!"

"feel good, petal? like how i take you." he moved against you further and it left him feeling the anticipation for climax. he continued to fuck your sweet body, working every last centimeter of warm skin, "remember, ya gotta ask me to cum."

his movements were overwhelming, his pace left you feeling breathless. and in your first lesson of intimacy, you croaked out, "can i cum, sir? please, i need to cum."

and price could be a giving man. he looked down at you, haze in those blue eyes as he said, "of course, baby girl. cum for me, cum for your captain." and swore under his breath as you beautifully came apart for him. he held onto your wrists tighter and groaned. it paired nicely with your sweet little moans.

"sir! fuck!" you gasped as you clenched around him. you finished and it only prompted him to move faster while you laid in such a blissed out state. no one had made you finish like that, not even your own nimble digits.

but price was just that good.

the bed creaked further and the headboard hit against the beige wall of the bedroom. he fucked you faster and made sure to cram every inch inside of you. with a few more heavy strokes, he finished into of you with a heavy groan. he fucked you through his climax before he slowed to a stop.

he wiped the sweat from his forehead and exhaled deeply, "beauty, beauty. where has the world been hidin' ya from me." he chuckled as he kissed you on the lips. you melted against him and moaned.

when he pulled out, he got up with a creak in his hip to throw out the condom before he was back in bed with you. you were both naked under the covers as price traced your form with his calloused fingers. the roughness on your soft skin made you shiver.

"how about it, lovie." he said in that low, gruff tone of his. his hand grazed across your side and behind, "how about i invite the boys over and their little birdies and we can have a little playdate. introduce you to the group."

you swallowed, "play... date?"

price pulled you closer. he held onto you the way someone would hold a stuffed animal. he smiled at you, "don't worry, petal. no one's gettin' their hands on ya. not while i'm still breathin'." his voice was tinged with a possessiveness. you nodded in response and he added, "besides, i know i'll make the boys nice and jealous with you." he chuckled, "my beautiful baby girl." then kissed you on the lips.

you could only imagine what would happen at a playdate with price's friends and their submissives. it also didn't help that it made you a little excited as well. <3

[dark-konohagakure2]

Pain punishing a disobedient member by making her a free use slave for the whole Akatsuki

tw: noncon, abuse of power, free use, gangbang, bondage, threats, biting, forced eye contact, abuse, size difference, monster cocks, double penetration, anal, bloodplay, degradation, photography, mommy kink, facesitting

All characters depicted are 18+

Pain isn't as domineering of a leader as people would think, despite being the head of a terrorist group, he allows his members to have a certain degree of freedom with how they pursue the organizations shared goals, but if there's one thing Pain won't allow, it's disobedience.

When a younger female member of the Akatsuki begins to show the telltale signs of a disobedience streak, Pain will snuff out the issue before it even arises, deciding to put the would-be dissenter to work, and what better work for a disobedient brat than long and hard labor?

Pain can easily overpower her even without using his Rinnegan, chaining her up with her arms above her head and her legs spread, all of her holes exposed to whoever would walk into the common room of the Akatsuki lair.

Pain is very blunt about his intentions, telling her all about how he's going to have her own comrades fuck the disobedience out of her, that's the small price that traitors to the Akatsuki have to pay after all.

"Now you're going to learn how to be a good girl. I'm leaving you here for our comrades to use as they see fit. Maybe this will teach you the importance of teamwork and obedience."

Deidara goes first, and being the youngest he has the most stamina, not to mention his sadistic streak. He'll threaten to blow her to smithereens with his art, and he'll use the mouths on his hands to bite when lick her all over. Sasori goes next, and he's just unnerving, showing no emotion and staring at her with unblinking eyes, his puppet body feeling very uncomfortable inside of her as he roughly penetrates her with it.

Itachi is almost as unnerving as Sasori, just without the cold wooden body. He stares too, but with his Sharingan active the entire time he's fucking her, he's oddly insistent on making eye contact the entire time, grabbing her face and even slapping her if she looks away from his intense gaze. Kisame is a very big and tall man, living up to his reputation as a complete monster. He practically smothers the poor girl with his large frame when he pounds both of his cocks into her, shoving one member into each of her holes and leaving her covered in bloody bite marks by the time he's done.

Hidan is unsurprisingly the worst of them all in terms of the amount of physical pain he'll inflict, he'll fuck her so hard that she bleeds while calling her every name in the book, laughing in her face whenever she cries and begs. Kakuzu is no where near as obnoxious as Hidan, but he's just as cruel, forcing his threads into her mouth to shut her up while he plows into her, taking photos of her helpless form on his camera so he can sell them to seedy old perverts later.

Konan isn't as cruel as the men, but she's just as domineering as them, sharply slapping the girl's pussy and telling her to be a good girl for mommy as she sits on the girl's helpless face. Tobi is surprisingly the scariest of them all, the usually childish man is now speaking in a terrifying and deep voice, acting the complete opposite of his usual self as he pounds into her roughly and without a hint of his usual goofiness.

Once the day is done and her sentence is served, Pain will come to unbind her, her body covered in cum, tears, and blood. Pain won't feel any remorse, only showing satisfaction at the fact that his unruly bitch is how housebroken.

"Have you learned your lesson? It certainly looks like you have. Now, let's go to my quarters, I'll give you your final lesson in obeying your leader."

He'll then take her to his room to have his own way with the defenseless Akatsuki member, he's her leader after all, her God, so it's only fair that he fucks her last, to truly assert his dominance and ownership over her used up body.

[gremlingottoosilly]

I love the idea that their wives know that they actively hate each other but continue badgering them to go on double dates together because the sex afterwards is fucking top tier shit.

Oh! Two local contriversially young wives are plotting against their husbands, breaking news! Seriously, the friendship of Mrs.Price and Mrs.Konig is like 15 percent of genuine feelings and 85 percent of desire to see the world of their partner's burn. I can imagine Mrs.Price being roped into a relationship with the man who spends more time with his soldier boys than with his young and bored wife, so she just kinda went to slumber parties with her bestie every time Price is on the long deployment. Who cares that it's a 2-hour flight from the UK to Austria?? Mrs.Price is less restricted in her movements because Price is confident in his ability to keep a woman around him without a ball and chain, and also in his ability to rack her down more easily, so you can say that his wifey is far more free and tame at the same time. Mrs.Konig is basically a traumatized kitten stuck in her house, she needs friends( Konig is always so so rough after meetings with Price, he hates this old dog so much!!! He literally got himself a young pretty wife and ignores her to focus on his dumb missions, he is horrible to women! Now, the Austrian puppy wants to show Mrs.Konig all the love he has for her, just to prove that he is far better than this old man, he has stamina and desire to please! Price is also jealous and kinda nervous about his wifey going to Konig's house and roping him into meetings( she is so dumb and naive, these guys are dangerous freaks!! Captain needs his special girl to ride him and remind him of how he is definitely not too old for her and actually in a perfect shape all the time!! Now, imagine Price and Konig pinning after same girl...

[konigsblog]

omg I loved idea of kidnapper!konig w the shy and sheltered reader it has me floored tbh🫨😮‍💨 presenting you my brain rot the way a proud cat delivers a leaf on your doorstep as a token of gratitude

thinking about how he noticed her at her work or something bc she was so helpful but a little reserved, afraid of him even. Probably bc she isn’t used to seeing 6”10 behemoth military men every day. Konig is smitten w the way she shies away from his intense eye contact, the way she flushes painfully all over her face and neck and stutters as he tries to make conversation. He is enamored, because despite being taken aback by him she still is so obedient and proper in the way she addressed him, going out her her way to make sure he has everything he needs. He wonders in how many other ways she would be so willing to serve him. He knows that she would make the perfect housewife, one worth it to being kept in a gilded cage. a beautiful girl such as herself, oblivious to the dangers of the real world needs protection, someone strong to keep her safe from all the bad men who would no doubt gladly take advantage of her. Konig makes a vow that day to be her protector. at first, the only thing she does is cry and try to get away from him after she wakes up and finds herself chained in his dark basement. She refuses to believe this is her new reality, that’s she’s held captive in the dungeon of the soldier with the icy blue eyes she met at work. She wonders what her mistake was, because she only tried to be nice and friendly despite feeling a deep sense of dread in the pit of her stomach the minute she had laid eyes on the masked giant. If only she had listened to her gut…

no matter how much she beg and pleads, the giant doesn’t budge. He patiently waits for her panic to subside as he takes her in his arms, shushes her and gently wipes and kisses away her tears. He makes her skin crawl, but no matter what she does, she can’t escape the iron grip of his enormous arms snaked around her waist, holding her against his chest as he rocks her back and forth. He is so sweet and gentle, so patient and understanding. He lulls her to sleep in his arms, speaking soft and soothing words in her ear. Soon, she’ll get used to her new home. To her new place beside him, as his. His to love, his to cherish and protect. He promises the chains will come off her ankles and wrists once she behaves and stops trying to get away. But until then, she’s bound to sleep on the old mattress in the cold basement. Of course he isn’t heartless. He comes down once a day to feed her, always making sure its her favorite foods and snacks she gets but on one condition: she has to let him feed her, take the bites and spoonfuls from his hand. He coos at how much of a good girl she is being for him, his praises tinting her ears all pink. And he allows her to bathe, he has all of her favorite oils and gels and products. But once again, for a price. She has to allow him to bathe her. At first she tries to edge away from his hands on her, large and brute palms lathering her soft skin with soap, thoroughly rubbing her all over. She’s never been naked in front of someone else, let alone touched in such a way. But she relaxes once he applies enough pressure on her aching joints, massaging the soreness away. When she finally relaxes and leans her head back against the bathtub, she feels his calloused fingers edge down to her core, teasing her folds. She flinches and opens her eyes, looking up at him, startled and caught like a deer in the headlights.

“have you ever been touched down here, meine hirsch?”

his voice is ever so soft and inviting. She shakes her head, caught in his gaze as her chest falls and rises, her nipples hardening from the cold as her soapy breasts peak up from underneath the bubbles. His fingers find something small, something hidden between her folds and she yelps when he starts rubbing slow and small circles on it. He is delighted to have his suspicions confirmed, his engel is untouched. A virgin.

“you’ve been so good for me today. So obedient. You’re learning so fast, meine hirsch. I think you’ve earned another reward. How about I spoil you some more?”

NON-CON/RAPE

könig is so ecstatic to realise that his little engel is a sweet, inexperienced virign. so he can be your first, the one to corrupt you. you're just so sheltered, so scared and teary-eyed when his hands dip further and further until they reach area's you wish they wouldn't have.

his semi-hard cock only hardens more at the sight of you; bare and wet in a tub of warm water, weak and vulnerable against him. god, the thoughts and fantasies of taking you now – even if you didn't want it – were driving him crazy, almost delusional as his eyes widen and the sides of his mouth curl up into a eerie smile. his morals almost forgotten about when he saw you shudder.

“oh-hah, my sweet thing... are you a virgin?” he lauaghs out at the question, almost taken about, excited and shocked.

he chuckles lowly when you nod, rubbing your clit in soothing circles whilst kissing your cheek. you whimper, whining at the newfound attention to your clit. you can only grip the sides of the bathtub, cornered in and useless against your kidnapper.

“please–stop!” a hearty chuckle leaves könig at your sight of misery, your fear. the tortue he's inflicting apon you and your poor, virgin body.

“you have nothing to be afraid of, my dear...” despite his promises, you could see past his smirk, knowing exactly what he had in store for you.

könig bundled you up into the towel, holding you in bridal style before placing you down at the edge of the bed. he threw the towel open from your body so that you were laying against it. the rough texture against your soft skin while he swirls his throbbing dick around your tight entrance. you whimper, squirming and shaking at the pleasure before he eases inside mercilessly. your nerves through the roof.

he doesn't care. not about your pleasure, but about the tightness of your pussy around his big dick. he's just so hard, so, so fucking hard as he pushes deep inside, pressing against your womb as he repeatedly begins thrusting into you. you cry out, thrashing beneath him to no avail as his grip on your hips only tightens, pushing you down against the bed :(

“stop-please, i don't want it!!” you whimper out, fearful and trembling, pussy throbbing and pulsing uncontrollably around him, only driving him more insane, giving him more power and control as he uses the way your body reacts against you. your pussy can't seem to stop drooling, what's the issue? he's just making sure his princess is treated right.

“look at you, you can't even deny that you're enjoying this.” he huffs out when he feels your folds wrap and tighten around his fat cock, continuously driving his huge cock into your virgin pussy relentlessly. no pity or mercy, and sure as hell no sympathy as you continue squirming despite being asked repetitively to stay still for him. so he can use you, just how he thinks you like.

you don't want this, none of it. but when he pinches your hardened, swollen nipples while bullying his thick and veiny dick into your weeping, raw cunt, you can't help but moan and pant, arousal dropping from your sex as he grinds against you.

“...no-no more...” you pant breathlessly. so sore, aching and bruised. his rough pace doesn't stop, not even for a second. slapping your face harshly as you grew more dumb and dizzy from his cock. he didn't want you to miss a second of this.

“don't pass out on me, engel, i won't stop even if you're unconscious...” you sob out at his words, choked and silenced when he wraps his large and calloused hand around your throat, making you babble out at the burning, rupturing sensation in your core.

so, so callous and careless as he leaves you whimpering and sensitive.

[sarah-denial-cq]

What makes you enjoy slave Leia so much? Merely a strong woman in a humiliating, revealing costume, or is there anything more to it?

Slave Leia fixed me.

I don't think I have a lot to say about it that isn't obvious, since I'm kinda stupid. But it's more than just a strong woman being put in a humiliating revealing costume.

First is the in universe concept (uh, I guess, spoilers for like a forty year old movie). It's not just that Leia is captured and put in the bikini. She's captured while in the process of thinking she can be strong and capable, that she can save someone. The outfit and voice changer she used while trying to rescue Han covered up her sex and her weakness. The contrast with that is immense. And when she's caught, people *laugh*. It's a big *joke*. It's not a serious she did a good try but jabba's crack team of security were better. It's like a surprise prank that they all pulled on her. Compare the defiance from when Vader first captures her on the blockade runner in EP IV, when she is strong in the face of capture after a battle well fought, to the face she makes when jabba catches her. No defiance. Just embarrassment, disgrace, weakness, confusion, stupid girl. Sorry I'm kinda masturbating while writing this.

And then she is stripped and put in a tacky bikini with arm bands and hair bands and a collar and leash. Fine. But she is exposed in front of Luke. The one who she was trying to be all tough girl equal around in EP IV and v. He is calm, composed, powerful, which just makes her weakness and stupidity more evident. Of course she couldn't save a man. But one could save her, at the price of seeing her stripped down to a waist and pair of tits.

And that's edge edge that's what brings this into the real world. It completely destroys Leia's character for the entire series. Ask any man who's watched star wars to describe the most iconic scene for Luke and it's idk his training with Yoda or his blowing up the death star or whatever. None of them will say him shirtless and weak and vulnerable in the bacta tank. But ask the same question about Leia and you will get one answer. If it had been her character from the start it wouldn't wreck me quite so much. But it isn't, it's two movies of.building her up as a badass strong independent woman and then haha no you stupid girls who thought this universe took you seriously this is how everyone sees you. The fact that it took away and overwrote and deleted and replaced oh god everything that she did in the eyes of the male audience the film was marketed.to edge is she's literally on a chain looking up at the guy she was pretending to be an equal to just like how I have to be lower and beneath and

And on top of all of that was Carrie's discomfort real world with how revealing the costume was to her professional colleagues it's literally wear this bra and skirt with no panties in front of people you pretend edge are workplace equals wet and pose while kneeling in it for the official promotion materials bark and inspire generations of girls to think that when they attend conventions about their hobbies they should dress up like subservient edge sluts and pose in huge undifferentiated groups for photos and anyways that's part of why I like slave Leia so much thanks for the ask.

[missmarveledsblog]

Hand on heart (Jake Seresin x Singlemom!reader)

chapter one

summary : coming to new place is scary , but the adventures along the way might not be right ?

warnings : none not really mainly fluffy fluff

also pic i made doesnt respresent reader description i just needed it for the photo i will try keep reader free for all but she is f.a.b

Battles in life can either motivate or terrify a person , the course of life shifts abruptly from one course to another in a split second . Waking up to a note a couple month before birth well it shifted one battle to a whole new one . From thinking it was all perfect to wondering what she was blinded to , while now she was facing a new battle, one that may have been the most challenging yet .

A lengthy road trip to a new life and a toddler wasn’t what she would have pictured, not in the slightest . But it was a job that paid well and provided daycare , a contract with in her reason and time difficulties she’d be stupid not to take it . She was even able to find a nice home for a reasonable price , maybe it was scary , it was all new and frankly she was terrified of messing up but shit her grandmother didn’t raise her to run from a challenge but to face it head on ,she would be david conquering goliath .

The moment she pulled into her new driveway exhaling as she knew the challenge of trying to move a sleeping toddler was about as careful and stealthy as moving a bomb. Belle was out cold , tired of staying awake in the confines of the dreaded car seat. Slowly getting out the car walking up the driveway heading to the new how opening the door , putting the sleeping toddler on the sofa as she set up the travel cot before then transferring . a quiet celebration of her success as she began getting to work , unpacking the boxes in the kitchen . time was of the essence knowing she couldn’t really well slack off , rest and relaxing could happen once it was all finished. House and belle came first and then she could worry about herself that was for sure. Doing it all alone would always be a scary concept something she made her peace with when she was standing on her grandmothers porch at the age of twenty one with a big bump thinking back it was ridiculous getting married , she graduated early and started college a little earlier , even while she was pregnant. What helped most was the scholarships and the help from her grandmother now twenty four she was doing the best of what she could.

Belle graciously slept for an hour upon arrival and confused whines walking up in the new environment that told her the toddler needed her attention more than the unpacking did . she at least got some of the baby’s room done and beds for both of them to sleep in that night.

“ hey pretty girl , look where we are “ she cooed lifting her up as the little fist rubbed the sleep from her eyes . “ you hungry ?” only for a whine to fall from the toddlers lips .

“fries “ she cried out .

“ fries it is “ she chuckled bringing her to change her diaper first as the toddler still out of sorts and hungry was looking for her fries . “ ok ok grumpy butt lets go get you fed “ she chuckled as they headed out the car handing the toddler a cracker to hold her over and well so she could concentrate on the road. Til she seen the fast food chain of restaurants and slightly praying it wasn’t too crazy inside. She noticed a group in the far corner was about it but other than that the place was completely empty , void of any others which probably most perfect outcome . standing she barely kept her attention on anyone bar the pint sized human holding her hand and the menu . not knowing that the new life she was starting was going to clash with the old one . turning she took other side not wanting to let the toddler disturb the group and yet their uniforms looked familiar .

Two weeks previous :

“ glad to finally have you on board mrs l/n “ captain pete mitchell smiled showing her around the base .

“ you guys seem persistent to have me on your team “ she laughed nervously never really considering working for the navy hell she never knew they had aviation she was sure it was all sea base.

“ You're the best of the best i’d take it as a compliment , you're a mother too I hear ?” He smiled brightly .

“ a freshly turned two year old little girl named Belle who would totally be so jealous now “ she chuckled. “ she is going through a flying phase. My best friend took her to see an airshow and she's been obsessed since,” she explained.

“ please bring her to visit and your husband or partner too “ he lead her into the empty hanger.

“ oh its just me on my own “ she winced ready for the sympathy pity or judgy looks .

“ Well then bring yourself and the little future aviator ” he patted her shoulder as he began to show her around , showing her where everything was held the tools and parts , order sheets and inventory . She never was so excited to start working; it was always her dream to work in aeronautical engineering . She was always into the ways of flying machines from commercial to well fighter jets such as the ones she would be working with . life was never anyway easy , her mom was in and out of rehab all her life before completely up and leaving altogether , her dad well wasn’t much better either, only the man left before she could walk to do what he wanted . one woman she could always count on was her grandmother and two big brothers , no matter what the woman held her up only she died six months which was why she was moving now . how much she helped with everything from the pregnancy and even when she returned home after she woke up alone . As they talked, she could see the group passing by into the hanger, those uniforms of the khaki color all laughing and joking, and she and Pete headed down to finish the final bits of paperwork .

Present:

“Oh i think mama will be working with them “ she cooed as belle was more concerned with the tray of food than the words of her mother .

“ hey y/n is that you ?” a voice called only for her to see her future boss walking toward her .

“ hey captain mitchell how are ya “ she smiled brightly .

“ please even in the hanger it just pete .. this must be the future aviator belle” he smiled only .

“ she is beautiful little girl “ a man spoke only to see couple people standing with her new boss .

“ dagger squad this is the new aeronautical engineer that starting next week mrs y/n and this is here is going to be a future aviator miss belle who i hope will come visit the hanger soon “ he chuckled as the two year old cooed up at him .

“ nice to meet you both ma’am name phoenix call me nat this is bob and fanboy and the one who looks like his ovaries are about to explode is rooster “ she chuckled .

“ he’s worst then a woman with babies “ fanboy snorted .

“ how can i not be look at her little hands that french fry is bigger than it “ rooster chuckled.

“ belle you wanna say hi “she asked softly.

“ hiya “ she shyly said almost hiding her face as she did so .

“ i want one “ the man sighed .

“Ok moving on from that welcome to san diego “ nat smiled shooting her friend weird look .

“ would y’all like to join us looks like it getting busy in here” she looked around as the table began filling .

“ we’d love to , i’ll sit with you while they get the food would you like anything ? belle ?” phoenix asked.

“ frieesss “ the toddler smiled happily .

“ coming up ma’am ?” rooster stood .

“ it’s y/n please less of the ma’am and i’m fine let me give you money for her fries” she went to grab her bag only for them to walk off .

“ it’s on us “ he called back .

“ so good another female is working in the hangar honestly thank you “ nat chuckled .

“ i mean it’s same with my field it mainly men i barely worked with a handful of women “ she snorted.

“ well we heard you made cyclone sweat so your already a big league “ .

“ i think cause i’m younger some don’t take me serious and being female i’m sure you know “y/n explained handing belle her bottle.

“ yeah did you start college at twelve “ nat joked .

“ well not that early actually i was just gone sixteen “ she snorted .

“ wait so your like one of those genius kids that cool and belle i’m sure is following “ nat cooed at the baby.

“ she is very clever for her age just hope she settles well this is so different from texas “ .

“ i’m sure she will love it here”

“ its all new but i mean all new things are scary kinda glad i bumped into y’all make it slighty easier” she smiled weakly .

“ oh its not too bad i mean they can be bone heads but their sweethearts .. don’t tell them i said that though “ nat winked .

“ well i look forward to looking forward to working with you all i am excited i’ve worked on jets before but commercial ones and some classified but i can’t talk about those” she wiped belles face easily following along with the conversation .

“ well we could use your hands i mean last guy was so old he was starting to get sort of sloppy and the replacement is going for deployment so i think that’s why they’re doing the whole civilian contract sort of thing “ nat shrugged as the guys came back to the table rooster blowing the fries before hovering them over the tray looking at y/n who just nodded as he dunk them on the tray making belle giggle and laugh.

“ so what made you get into engineering ?” fanboy asked slight shoving rooster out of the way to sit next to her.

“ oh my grandpa he was actually in the navy but he used to tell me all about the mechanics of things and i fell in love with it all ,he worked on ships and shipping containers though different side but like belle i was taking to a air show and well fell in love “ she animatedly talked away as they listened and after while rooster and belle were having their own conversation til she was heading out the door with the tired toddler with their numbers in her phone so they could meet up sometime before she started .

“ hot and smart” rooster said easily as they walked into the hard deck .

“ way out of your league way too smart to even fall for any of your dumb asses “ nat snorted .

“ i mean i don’t swing that way and they're not that bad but thanks for the compliment “ the blonde drawled .

“ her accent is way better than that too “ rooster sighed sitting down .

“ wasn’t talk about you seresin i was talking about our new engineer we met her when we went to get food “ nat smirked .

“ wow how hot we talking “ javy no longer interested in the game .

“ very she bit young though i think she twenty something and the cutest little girl ever” nat smiled brightly.

“ oh kid yeah i’m out “ jake snorted .

“ hey belle is the cutest two year old i’ve ever seen “ rooster defended .

“ how many two year olds do you know chicken ?” jake smirked .

“ not many but she is the coolest “

“ roosters ovulating aside he isn’t wrong , a sentence i never thought i would say “ nat gasped jokingly.

“ wanna say it again so i can record it “ he winked.

“ nope anyways she starts next week once little belle is settled in daycare so none of you jackasses scare her off “ nat warned them all .

“ for once you don’t need to worry about me moms are too messy “ jake shrugged heading off to the bar .

next chapter

[calliesmemes]

DARKNESS HAUNTS YOUR NARRATIVE

UNSETTLING SENTENCE STARTERS FROM VARIOUS SOURCES THAT WILL SEND SHIVERS DOWN YOUR SPINE AND LEAVE AN OMINOUS FEELING LINGERING IN THE ROOM.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   I’m deep inside your mind. There is no escape for you. ”

“   You save everyone, but who saves you? ”

“   The power inside of me — it’s terrifying. ”

“   Power belongs to those who take it. ”

“   You’ll be the ruin of me, won’t you? ”

“   You weren’t meant to save the world — you were meant to destroy it. ”

“   You didn’t break me; you built me. All you did was make me ruthless. ”

“   You have no power over me. ”

“   I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me. ”

“   All the greatest loves end in violence. ”

“   I don’t think you’re truly mean. You have sad eyes. ”

“   In theory the prophecy could still come true. ”

“   One day, your empathy is going to get you killed. ”

“   We are masters of our own destiny. ”

“   Never trust a survivor until you find out what they did to survive. ”

“   The horror that you have seen is not who you are. ”

“   A little too much anger, too often or at the wrong time, can destroy more than you would ever imagine. ”

“   Your scars are not your shame; they are your story. ”

“   I will never turn my back on people who need me. ”

“   Isn’t it scary to be ready to die at such a young age? ”

“   Your mind is a weapon. Keep it loaded. ”

“   Are you hearing those voices again? ”

“   It scares me sometimes. The emptiness I see in your eyes. ”

“   You may not be interested in the war, but the war is interested in you. ”

“   Haven’t you taken enough from me? ”

“   You collect scars because you want proof that you are paying for whatever sins you have committed. ”

“   It is okay to be angry. It is never okay to be cruel. ”

“   I hope that what you did to me haunts you. ”

“   The price of freedom is high. It always has been. ”

“   When you talk, I can hear the revolution. ”

“   Do not pretend that you are some meek, pathetic little girl when I can see that vicious mind working behind your eyes. ”

“   Your new life will cost you your old one. ”

“   Watching someone you love suffer can teach you even more than suffering yourself can. ”

“   Some people are in your life to test you ”

“   Fear makes men more dangerous than magic ever could. ”

“   At what point do you think i'll become the wound itself and not simply the bearer? ”

“   We are made of all those who have built and broken us. ”

“   All power demands sacrifice and pain. ”

“   Some things buried deep need to stay that way. ”

“   You and I are going to change the world. ”

“   I wonder which will get you killed faster — your loyalty, or your stubbornness? ”

“   Something’s made your eyes go cold. ”

“   If I am not a weapon, then what am I? ”

“   Your chains are broken, but are you truly free? ”

“   You were alone before they left you. ”

“   You can love a monster, it can even love you back, but that doesn’t change its nature. ”

“   It’s awful not to be loved. It’s the worst thing in the world … it makes you mean, and violent, and cruel ”

“   We can simultaneously be both human and monster. ”

“   I have this strange feeling that I’m not myself anymore. ”

“   You laugh like a little girl and think like a martyr. ”

“   Grief taught me inhumane things. ”

“   You will always be a monster. There is no turning back from it. ”

“   I know there’s a villain, and I’m worried it’s me. ”

“   I can’t stand the bitter thing that I’ve become. ”

“   People will never bleed enough to fulfill your vision of justice. ”

“   What if I told you the truth about what happened that night? ”

“   Part of me died in order to survive. ”

“   We are cursed with a tendency for violence. ”

“   I speak in verses, prophecies, and curses. ”

“   I see no use quarrelling with fate. ”

“   Nobody smart plays fair. ”

“   Fine, make me your villain. ”

“   They should be terrified of me. ”

“   I gave you devotion, blood, and my life. ”

“   How disappointing, when people succumb to what is expected of them. ”

“   Perhaps that was why I had to endure pain — because true transformation can only happen in the crucible of suffering. ”

“   Morality, too, is a question of time. ”

“   Memories destroy us. ”

“   My entire life, I’ve been fighting a war. ”

“   Fair is foul, and foul is fair. ”

“   Are you becoming what you’ve always hated? ”

“   I have found it takes a lot of strength to endure myself. ”

“   Loving any of us is a death sentence, isn’t it? ”

“   You long to be bandaged before you have been cut. ”

“   I feel so lost among these entirely strange people. ”

“   Remembering is like an open wound. ”

“   The wounded recognize the wounded. ”

“   I am alone and am suffocating because I cannot give voice to my emotions. ”

“   I’ve lived through entire tragedies in silence. ”

“   The more you love, the more you suffer. ”

“   The crowd that applauds a ruler’s coronation is the same crowd that will applaud a tyrant’s beheading. People like a show. ”

“   You are a better knife than you are a person. ”

“   Life goes more smoothly without a heart. ”

“   People have a hard time letting go of their suffering. Out of a fear of the unknown, they prefer suffering that is familiar. ”

“   I’m nostalgic for the anger I once had. ”

“   The pain I didn’t tell you about has built a home inside of me. ”

“   My greatest regret was how much I believed in my own future. ”

“   All I ever do is grieve. ”

“   Do not mock a pain you haven’t endured. ”

“   I control the shadows. They do not control me. ”

“   Turn the pain into power. ”

“   Sometimes, we survive by forgetting. ”

“   I am now the most miserable man living. ”

“   To remain as I am is impossible; I must die or be better, it appears to me. ”

“   In this sad world of ours, sorrow comes to all; and, to the young, it comes with bitterest agony. ”

“   I see in the near future a crisis approaching that unnerves me. ”

“   Memories do not always soften with time; some grow edges like knives. ”

“   Maybe everything that you thought was breaking you was actually leading you towards yourself. ”

“   Sometimes, not being in control is the most beautiful thing in the world. ”

[skittlespizza]

If fear and hunger guys had tumblr:

💰 veteran-funger Follow

Hey! Did you know the dungeons of Fear and Hunger have treasure in them! For the low price of 50 gold, I'll sell you a treasure map. Dm me on discord thanks.

🗡 cumhara Follow

@celeste-on-hiatus I'll be back in a few weeks! Love you!

🍇 celeste-on-hiatus Follow

What.

🏹 legarde-hater Follow

I fucking hate le'garde. He keeps on having holy crusades for "Alll-mer" or something. MY WIFE AND CHILD DIED. I hate him so much. I want him dead. Sorry for the vent. It's been a tough week. I am going to track him down and kill him with my bare hands.

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

Le'garde isn't that bad. Calm down, the crusades had a purpose. Stop being parasocial about a guy you don't even know? Sorry about your wife but you gotta get over it. You're a full grown man.

🏹 legarde-hater Follow

I added "Le'garde apologists" to my DNI, leave me alone freak. Go and kiss Le'garde's ass somewhere else.

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

I will! You know, they say Le'garde is in the Dungeons of Fear and Hunger?! Yeah. I'm going there. Fuck you. I'll save his ass and send you pics of us together.

🏹 legarde-hater Follow

Hey guys I'll be at the dungeons of fear and hunger for a bit.

🏹 legarde-hater Follow

Hey do you guys like my dog?

💀 old-night Follow

That ain't a dog. It has twice the amount of eyes??

🏹 legarde-hater Follow

Her name is moonless <3

🗡 cumhara Follow

@celeste-on-hiatus how do we feel about another kid?

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

On the way to save my cutesy bf! Wish me luck!

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

Found some people in a cave.. gonna talk to them. Maybe they'd like to hear about alll-mer. I don't think they've left this cave before :)!

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

Um.. they did not like alll-mer. In other words, a blue haired guy and a small girl saved me! Wish us luck. And yes guys, i do love legarde. Idk what "comphet" is? Sorry. Is that an old god? I read about that in a book.

🌚 rher Follow

Comphet is an old god, yeah. He's the old god of denial.

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

Oh thanks!

♟️ enki-ankarian Follow

Today I almost died as a sacrifice. Though, I stopped it because I had a vision. Apparently something inside the dungeons of Fear and Hunger is waiting for me. I'll update my blog as I continue on.

♟️ enki-ankarian Follow

I hear screaming. Dogs barking and a man crying. I'm reading.

♟️ enki-ankarian Follow

Something broke through the wall. I'm reading. Lots of information to bring back.

♟️ enki-ankarian Follow

Can't get fucking quiet in this dungeon. Gonna have to leave this library and find a new one. People are so inconsiderate sometimes.

⚔️ legarde ✅️✅️ Follow

Day one dungeons of fear and hunger. They gave me rotten flesh as food. Not befitting for a man such as I.

⚔️ legarde ✅️✅️ Follow

Day two, dungeons of fear and hunger. They chained me up and this rather large man has been watching me. Help?

⚔️ legarde ✅️✅️ Follow

I hear footsteps. Maybe someone's coming to save me!

⚔️ legarde ✅️✅️ Follow

I think the guard died.

🏹 legarde-hater Follow

I lived bitch.

🗡 cumhara Follow

Well I left the dungeons. No treasure but I got a kid I guess.

♟️ enki-ankarian Follow

Still reading.

🔮 nosramus-blogs Follow

Still reading.

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

How to do necromancy

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

Why doesn't he love me

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

What is a "lesbian"

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

Why do i like when i see girls kissing

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

Le'garde is dead.

🛡 legarde-no1-fan Follow

Leaving dungeons now. I didn't save le'garde but i found out i was a lesbian.

[callsign-songbird]

(I was going back through some files on my laptop and found this old thing I wrote, No, I am not going to edit anything, so, Enjoy!)

Thinking about Simon. Thinking about the callouses on his hands, not just his fingertips. Thinking about the way his hands are so rough against your soft skin, massaging is and manipulating the soft flesh in malleable circles. the way he would pepper kisses along the surface and fan his soft breaths along your neck. this is a man who has lost everything and drug himself through hell by only his bootstraps to spit in the devils face, and paid the price for it. so to have something as beautiful, as decadent, as absolutely divine as you looking up at his with those big, wet eyes while the pumps his cock into you and pushes you to the point of overstimulation, whining and begging him to stop. he doesn't feel worthy. You are his goddess, his life, his love, the breath in his lungs, everything he lives and exists for. Price could tell the day he met you too.

Simon had always been utterly devoted to Price. After Simon accomplished his mission, Price was the one to pull him out of that lonely pit, dust him off, and offer the husk of a man a job doing what he did best. and from that day forward, that was what Simon was. A soldier. Not just any soldier, though. He was Price's soldier. Any order or request Price gave was carried out down to the letter. it didn't mind if Price was asking for a coffee, mentioned that he needed his boots shined, or even needed some *other* acts of service, Simon was always right there. And then there was you. One day, Simon came back from off-base with Price's coffee, and he faltered. It was tiny, miniscule even. Simon overlooked Price's comment about being parched. As small as it would be for anyone else, that was monumental for Simon. He started leaving base more, becoming more and more distracted. Then, one day, Simon comes to Price with a question that he doesn't know how to answer at first.

"Captain, how does one... Approach a woman with the intent of... a relationship?" Price about spit out his coffee, choking momentarily and disguising the action as a cough, but Simon knew. Simon always knew. Price gave the best advice he could, but he was utterly confounded as to where this development had come in. He watched Simon nod his head and head out of his office, large gloved hands stuffed in his pockets and brows knit up beneath his skull balaclava. Price really knew that he shouldn't be worried, Simon was nothing if not dedicated, committed, and diligent. But this was a big change, and Price momentarily worried for whatever pretty little thing had caught Simon's eye.

This was where Soap and Gaz came in. Troublemaking pair that the two of them were, and other than Price, Soap was the closest one to Simon on base. Whenever Simon craved dominance, he went to Price. Whenever Simon craved submission, he would take it from Soap. Not like he was complaining, no. The military was a bunch of guys getting real close and sweaty with each other, coming to rely on and depend on each other, and Soap had never been shy about what he had.

So imagine his surprise when Simon hasn't scruffed him, shoved his cock down Johnny's throat, or even shot him that warning glare in nearly a month now. He mutters under his breath and tosses back another glass of amber warmth, whining out about his relationship issues to Gaz. Gaz simply pats his back awkwardly while sipping on his own glass. "I dunno mate, maybe he's got a new girl." They both take one look at each other and burst out laughing so hard that their sides hurt, but that's all it takes to sew those seeds of doubt. Not like he *really* cares, no. Sure, the dominance is fun and keeps his high drive satisfied for the most part, but he's more worried for his friend than anything. Ghost never shared his life with anyone, so if it really was a girl, well, things could get complicated. Simon was like an animal, with a strict chain of command in his head. It went Price, him, Soap. He was Price's, and Soap was his. and he was fiercely protective of that hierarchy. But if it wasn't enough? If he was thinking of adding a little bird to the mix? Heaven forbid a civilian? Well, things might get complicated.

So that's how He, Gaz, and Price ended up following Simon off base one day. Though, Price only came to keep them out of trouble and out from under Simon's feet, much to Gaz's delight and Soap's chagrin. They tailed Simon from a safe distance, dressed in civilian clothes to avoid attention. They watched as he stepped into a shop and came out with a small plastic bag and- heaven forbid- Price had to harshly clap a hand over Soap's mouth to keep him from the boisterous laughter that threatened to spill out from the cage of callouses and chorded steel beneath flesh. Flowers. In Simon's other hand was a dainty bouquet of flowers. Pink roses, white lily's, baby's breath, and pink orchids. It was a nice arrangement, and for a moment, Price and Soap were on the cusp of jealousy, overridden only by sheer curiosity. Who the hell was it that had managed to enrapture the stoic and cold lieutenant like that?

They followed all the way to a small park, jaws nearly dropped ad the slight skip in Ghost's step. It was almost indiscernible to the untrained eye, but these men had spent years with Simon, grown accustomed to the three kinds of steps this man had. Cool and calculated, Hurried and determined when shit hits the fan, and enraged with quick and heavy footfalls. This was none of those. The way Simon bowed his head, his shoulders slightly hunched in, the soft almost nonexistent trembling in his hand that was unbecoming of a sniper.

Simon was *Nervous* they all realized.

Then they saw you, and none of them could understand. You were ok. Kind of average, not exactly a model but certainly not ugly. any one of them would shag you, if that meant anything. But the longer they watched, the more they came to understand. They way your cheeks flushed and your eyes lit up at the bouquet, a soft giggle leaving your lips. Simon's eyes squinted beneath his mask, the tell-tale sign of a smile leaving the three men breathless. This little thing had their Lieutenant wrapped around her little finger, and yet, she didn't seem to have any ill intent. you we're all soft smiles and sweet words. A bit of an odd duck from what the three could tell by tailing the two of you on your outing, but it only made you more endearing to them. What was more surprising though, was the Lieutenant.

None of them could comprehend the hold you had on him. With Simon, there always had to be something firm and ironclad. With Price, it was his dominance. With Soap, he was the firm one with strict rules and harsh punishments, And yet, this was none of that. He seemed to treat you so gently, as if you were the most precious aerogel and would shatter at the smallest bit of force. Simon's gruff voice was gentle when he spoke to you, the hand on the small of your back protective, yet soft. None of the men knew how to take it.

Then came the nail in the coffin. In front of a house, presumably yours, you turned to Simon, looking up at him through those long lashes of yours. Your hands slipped out of his and rested on his chest, palms flat against the fabric, slowly snaking up until your fingertip brushed under the hem of Simon's mask. Each man watched as the Lieutenant tensed, like a spring about to snap. What they didn't expect was for him to give you a single curt nod. Slowly and gently you worked the fabric of his mask up, caressing every inch of unearthed flesh with your fingertips as if it were a treasure you were unearthing. Eventually, Simon's mask rested over the bridge of his nose, your delicate hands cupping the sides of his face as if he were more precious than solid gold. Slowly the two of you leaned in, and the men were astounded to see their lieutenant drawn into a kiss more gentle and passionate than they thought him possible of.

The next week around base was unusually tense. Soap and Price sharing knowing glances in the hallway while Gaz didn't know how to comfort either of them. Oddly enough, though, Simon was beginning to return. It started slow. He stopped overlooking what price would say absentmindedly and the devotion returned, he would Scruff Soap again when he did something stupid or lipped off. Eventually, he was even back on his knees for price and forcing Soap back onto his. Why the change? No one understood. it's not like it was overnight either, no, this took nearly a year.

"Honeymoon phase must be up." Price surmised over a drink with Soap, eyeing Simon as he grabbed the next round from the bar. "Och, ya' don' think sir? Ya think Ghost would let somethin' like that happen?" Soap mused, his gaze focused on the same imposing figure. Then the little bell over the bar door Jingled, and they watched the Lieutenant's eyes melt in unprecedented warmth. A look they had only seen once before. Sure enough, there you were. Such a small nervous little thing, looking around like a lamb in the middle of a wolves den. in many ways, that's exactly what you were. From the moment that door opened, you were being eyed up by dozens of hungry soldiers, licking their chops and already standing to try their shot at you.

But no, Ghost would never allow that. Not his pretty little bird. His long strides made quick work of the distance between you, grabbing some poor private by the face and ripping him away from you. A hand snaked around your waist and pulled your flush against Simons chest. A soft squeak left your lips as Simon glared around the bar and placed his claim, walking you back to the bar where he could retrieve the round of drinks for the table and order one for you.

Simon brought the drinks and you back over to the table, sliding into the booth beside Johnny and gently guiding you to your rightful place in his mind, firmly on his lap. Your pretty face was so red, obviously embarrassed from the way you gave a small wave and bowed your head. like a scared little rabbit, they mused. "Thought I'd bring her 'round to meet you proper, so you don't have to stalk me 'gain." The Way he glanced between Price and Soap was impossible to miss, looking for their approval. Price took his time taking you in, every facet of your face, your demeanor, your actions. A satisfied nod immediately put Simon at ease, rolling his shoulders to relax them. Meanwhile, there was no questioning how Soap felt. You were so much prettier and sweeter up close, such a delicate little morsel. He had that look in his eye, that sparkle, that hunger. He had no issues trying to chat you up, encouraging you to drink your fill and call him 'Johnny'.

"This 's our pretty little thing." That simple line seemed to make everyone at the table pause, yourself included. Theirs? That meant? None of them should have been surprised, really. Simon clung tight to his hierarchy, and apparently you weren't going to break it, no, He had just nestled you in next to Johnny, under the category of 'his', maybe even below Johnny. "Our?" Your soft voice rang out as you looked over your shoulder at Simon, pulling an amused smirk to his lips beneath his mask. "Of course, love. Y're ours. You'll get used to it, lovie, don't you worry your pretty little head over it."

[bluefairyhere]

Same time tomorrow?|| Colby Brock scenario

¬Colby meets a girl at a coffee shop.

Pairing->f!reader x f!reader

w.c 1.7k

cw. very fluffy and corny

Almost every morning was the same for you. Get up, take a shower, grab your books and laptop and head to the coffee shop down the street to get productive. For some reason it was easier for you to focus and avoid procrastinating at said coffee shop, which was beautiful.

Vines all over the wall outside, this white, cottage-core-like vibe that you got from all the arrangements inside. The plants, the yellow-ish lighting, the kind old lady bartending--who you always thought was the owner--the bookshelves on two of the walls inside. Everything about this coffee shop was perfect and it screamed inspiration. It was the place you felt the most calm at. Until you saw him for the first time.

His dark hair falling a little on his forehead, his piercing blue eyes, muscular complexion and tattoos. His nose piercing and the chains plus the rings on almost every finger. He was so mysterious and edgy.

You could still remember the first time you saw him walk in. You usually never noticed whoever walked throught the door, but for some reason as soon as the little doorbell rang indicating someone'd come in, you felt an electrifying need to see who it was. And it was him, of course, with his sufficient smirk and careless demeanor. Yet when he ordered his coffee he acted so nice and happy, not edgy and damp. From the very first moment you found him fascinating.

Then the next morning he came back, but unlike the day before he actually stayed to drink his coffee while scrolling on his phone and didn't even notice you were there. Not like you were expecting him to. He was probably taken, or a total player and either way he wouldn't look in your direction. Why would he? you were just a simple literature major trying to get through the weeks without losing your mind. But you had no idea how wrong you were, because Colby had noticed you from the very first day.

He remembered going into the coffee shop Sam had told him about--apparently they made the best coffee of all times at the lowest price ever witnessed for such quality, or so Sam said-- and not being disappointed with what he ordered. But while he was in line to order he'd noticed you from afar, at the back of the whole establishment, focused on your books and laptop. He instantly thought you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen, and your aura seemed so tender and pure. He knew right away he wanted to get to know you, but how? It's not like he could just casually sit down at the table, introduce himself and ask you out. So the next day, he went to the coffee shop again, and there you were. Same table, same books, same laptop. He went for a week and he started to bring his stuff as well, mostly his laptop to do some editing and research for his videos. Hell week was coming so all the recording was already done, now they just needed to do the editing, and he also found the coffee shop an extremely relaxing and nice place to get stuff done. Plus, when he got tired, he'd look at you for a few seconds and feel recharged again. It was the weirdest thing, he wasn’t one to feel so connected to someone he’d never talked to before.

When you noticed he started sitting in the shop and working as he ate and drank his now usual muffin and what seemed to be plain coffee, you couldn’t help but imagine little scenarios in your head in which you’d go up to him and say anything, or he’d come up to you and…

“Hey.” You looked up, killing your previous train of thought. It was him. A plain black shirt with a XPLORE inscription in white, ripped black jeans with chains, rings on his fingers and his nose piercing practically staring at you.

“Huh?” Is all you could mumble. You did not expect this.

“May I sit here?” He asked with a small smirk, and you nodded.

“I noticed you since the very first time I came into this coffee shop… please let me take you on a date.”

You were about to say something when your phone rang, waking you up. It was a dream, you dosed off on the chair, head on the table. You looked around and he was gone, luckily. You hoped he didn’t see you like that.

And so the days kept going by and you continued to see him at the coffee shop, still daydreaming about who this handsome stranger was and the things you could do together. You were already at peace with the idea of him being nothing but a proximity crush and never really knowing anything about him, not even his name. Until one day he just stopped going. One day passed, then three and before you knew it, it had been a week.

You had no idea why. It’s not like you were super sad, but you missed seeing him around. You thought your proximity crush would die with his absence, but much to your surprise it actually didn't affect the way you were starting to feel about this handsome stranger.

All of a sudden, one day he came back. What you didn't know is that he had come back from recording at another haunted location with Sam and the crew, where he had an epiphany. He needed to talk to you. So that day, when you walked into the coffee shop he was sitting at your usual table, at your exact usual spot of the table too. Why would he do that? Surely he must have noticed you sit there every morning. You looked around, unsure about what to do. You even looked at the bar tender, but all the old lady had to do about it was giggle and shake her head, clearly amused.

You sighed and decided you'd take the table next to that one, so you were walking right past it. You were about to put all your stuff on said table but Colby's raspy voice prevented you from it.

"You don't need to sit there." You stopped on your tracks, not believing what you were hearing. You turned back to him.

"Sorry?" You acknowledging him made Colby feel way less confident, but he didn't show it.

"I'm not new here, I know you usually sit here. I was just wondering if you wouldn't mind... sharing a table with me?"

You looked around, confused. At this time of the day the shop wasn't very concurred with people so there was no need to share a table with a stranger. Even so, you had no idea why you were pushing things since getting to know him was all you wanted to do since you saw him for the first time. "I'm sorry but... why?"

Colby seemed to hesitate, but he had gone through almost every possible outcome of this situation with Sam. He could do this. He had to, it was now or never.

"I just figured it'd be nice. I'm Colby, Colby Brock." He stands up and offers his hand for you to shake. However, youre too stunned to process that. Just what was going on? Was he asking you to sit with him? For real?

"Im y/n, nice to meet you too." You were a little hesitant too, but honestly this was all you dreamt of lately, and it was finally happening. You decided to not overthinking and just sit down, right in front of you.

At first it was a little awkward, neither of you knew what to say.

"So, I've always wondered," Colby broke the silence "what is it you do with so many books every morning? And like you stick post-it's on it and write notes on your laptop... are you like a writer doing research or?"

You giggles a bit.

"Not really, I'm actually a literature major. I come here in the mornings to do my homework and papers and stuff." You said still smiling. "I could show you if you'd like."

"Yea sure, I'd love to see." So you took out your stuff and showed him the goods. You were currently working with two books.

"So what we're doing is making an essay comparing the accuracy of The Song of Achilles with the actual Achilles legend thing, its really interesting because..." And he was actually listening! A couple of hours passed and you learnt a lot about each other. You learnt he's a youtuber, hasn't been in a relationship for a while, likes writing music, is religious, amongst other things. And he learnt even more stuff about you since he couldn't stop asking. He was so obviously very interested. But you both realized it was time to go and continue with the day.

"This has been lovely," you said "but unfortunately if I dont leave now I won't be able to make it to campus on time." You said almost pouting.

"Yea I know, I have a meeting with the crew as well... But before you go," he seemed unsure about whether to say this or not, but after what seemed like a quick internal debate, he decided he'd say it. "I had been wanting to talk to you for weeks, and I'm glad I did. Maybe we could exchange numbers, if that's something you'd like to do?"

You felt your cheeks instantly redden. You were so sure this was going to be a one time thing, but you were so glad he was asking because you wanted this to happen again. And again. And again. You nodded.

"Of course." You offered him your phone so he'd type your number. After he was done you dialed his phone. "All done, have a good day." And you left. When you reached the door you looked back, and there he was, starting at you with that cute, satisfied smile of his. You waved and smile and he did so back. Then you left, and before you got to the bus stop you got a text message.

Same time tomorrow?

[johnsbirdie]

blue collar!price and white collar!fem reader

cw: i don’t really know

(i just thought of this and was like this is like totally price)

john is on his break, his rough, callused hands, caked in grime and dirt embedded deep within. he’s smoking a fat cigar to ease the pain (in his knees), he’s getting old now, which is quite easy to tell because his beard is greying - but to his luck you can’t exactly see his salt and pepper hair because his wide-brimmed bucket hat fortunately covers that.

surely he looked disgusting to people outside of the job. the other workers on the site, simon, kyle and johnny, saw him like this everyday of their lives and shrug off the fact he looked like a pig after it rolled around in mud.

and it just so happens that the construction site he works on, there’s a little office building right beside it. how lucky is he?

the chain-smoking, rugged older man set his sights on a little birdie in a tight little pencil skirt. he whistles unashamedly, so you can hear it. he knows you heard him. and you did. you’re walking along, cup holders full with coffee to bring back for your boss, you were a little surprised when he told you to get what you wanted with his card, he seemed to be in a good mood lately.

the wolf-whistle is the thing that nearly makes you drop the coffee-filled plastic cups, and when you look over, there’s a man double your own age with a smirk on his face. what a smug bastard.

“oi, pretty! you in a rush?” he calls out to you, stepping off of some planks of wood he was stood on.

god, you really did not have time for any chit-chat at the moment. you had to get back to work, not that it was any better than the man who had whistled at you, because your quite the talk of the town in the marketing department. all the old men must really like you, huh.

“i am, actually. sorry about that.” you brush him off, the noise of your heels clacking against the pavement infront of the site increasing the faster you walk. you did not want to speak to some roughed up, man old enough to be your dad.

but, does that stop john? absolutely not. he catches up to you before you can even make it into the office building, and he blocks your path.

“nah, you can’t be in a rush, you’re stood here with little ‘ol me.” he says that just to spite you, and when you try to step around him, he blocks your path once more.

“i’m only stood here with you because you’re not letting me move.” you huff. did he not understand that you didn’t want to talk? he was probably just some creep that liked to hit on girls half his age, which, to be fair, is what he was doing right now.

“aye. c’mon love, giv’us a twirl.” he cocks a brow, looking down at you. he towers over you by nearly a whole foot if you weren’t wearing heels.

ugh, who was this guy? a complete and utter prick, you thought. you really shouldn’t pay him any mind.

“do you mind moving, please? i need to get back to work.” you look up at him, your lips pressed into a thin line. you were on the verge of just throwing the starbucks drinks all over him, just to be a bitch about it.

he stands there. he doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watching you with his piercing blue eyes. he knows he shouldn’t pressure you, he didn’t really mean to come off as a creep. he just thought you were a pretty little thing and he liked pretty little things. but you didn’t seem to like him very much.

“mm. go on. i didn’t mean to be a dickhead, sweetheart. i’m sorry.” he eventually speaks, moving out of your way. which surprised you initially, not expecting that at all from him.

“oh, i… yeah, no, it’s okay. thank you.” you say, your voice a little small as you give him one last glance before heading into work.

until next time birdie. he thinks to himself as he watches your figure disappear into the office building.

[themoonweaversden]

Messeges that were found so far: STAN / STANLEY PINES / STAN PINES / STANLEY (spoilers)

This is just to collect all the codes that you can type in in thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com and their effects only (please click images for better quality)

Masterpost with all messeges / codes

You have to keep spamming it to get all of these links

Eventually you'll get this:

Transcript:

"WHEEL! OF! SHAME!

STEP RIGHT UP! It's time to play my FAVORITE GAME!! BOOTLEG SIXER over HERE spent a LIFETIME trying to hide his humiliations, BUT I'VE BEEN INSIDE HIS MIND, so NOW they're ALL YOURS for the low price of BEING MY NEW PAL! IT'S SHOWTIME FOLKS, AND THE ONLY WAY TO LOSE IS TO BE NAMED STANLEY PINES! CLICK BELOW TO SEE WHAT THIS MOUTH BREATHING CARNIVAL BAKER HAS BEEN KEEPING TO THE VEST ALL THESE YEARS. BROUGHT TO YOU BY: SHAME!

"SHAME:™ IT'S THE ONE FRIEND WHO NEVER LEAVES!"

EX-WIVES!

FEARS

SECRET SHAMES

UNREPORTED CRIMES

FAILED PRODUCTS

LOWEST MOMENTS

DARKEST THOUGHT

HOW HE BEAT ME"

If you click EX-WIVES

Transcript:

"EX-WIVES

Old Goldie Vegas wedding to a cursed gold-toothed antique.

Marilyn Fakenamé Vegas wedding to a cursed gold-toothed antique.

Brenda Chuggins Shack attraction for having "World's Biggest Thumb." (Carny Tip: Never date your own freaks. She used that thumb to hitch-hike off with Johnny Snakes 3 days later)

Sandra Sweetmeadow A kind beautiful Amish girl eho made Stan choose between her and his "sinful gold chains." He chose the chains.

Someone named "Burline" Stan has no idea who she is, but he found her wedding ring in the Shack Lost & Found, put it on, and it got stuck forever. Physically binding. Might be legally binding!

His childhood poster of "Attack of the 50 Foot Woman" (8 year old Stanley drew a ring on the poster and made Sixer witness.)

Natalia Annika Ömanövv Totally un-suspicious turist from a country that no longer legally exists. She took Stanley's creedit card and social security number while he was sleeping and still "checks in on him" via hidden cameras. Ah, love!"

If you click FEARS

Transcript:

"FEARS

The IRS Finding Out

Soos being the one to find Stan dead and taxidermying his body. (Soos would consider this an honor)

The cops calling Stan's fingertips "unusually little."

Betting Dipper in a poker game (and losing.)

Word getting out about Stan's little fingertips, people discovering that they're littler than Ford's.

Stan being dubbed "Baby-Fingers Pines" by the media and having to look into black market finger enlarging."

If you click SECRET SHAMES

Transcript:

"SECRET SHAMES

The time Wendy beat Stan in arm wrestling. 3 times in a row. She never has to work overtime as long as she never tells a soul.

The fact that no one came to his fake funeral except his mom and an IRS agent who whispered to the coffin "this isn't over."

The quick cash Stan made in 1975 posing for a "Hunky Drifters Catalogue" that wasn't as tasteful and classy as the job listing made it sound.

Was the baby mascot for the "Fussy Boy" Brand diaper rash commercials. (Claims that was Ford.)

Writing His Duchess Approves erotic fan-novel: "The Duke's Temptations at Oglebottom Estate.""

If you click UNREPORTED CRIMES

Transcript:

"UNREPORTED CRIMES

The time Stan hit Toby Determined with his car and just... kept driving.

Illegally breeding wolves to create a "super wolf." You should hear this thing howl.

Pretending to be a veteran to get a discount on PEZ, then having to invent an entire fake war in a fake country to keep the ruse going. Stan still has a "Remember Operation Enduring Excuse" bumper sticker, and regularly updates the Wikipedia page for the "People's Grepublic of Grunklestan."

Shooting out the tires of the Mythbusters Van after they axposing him for "looking kinda doughy" on tape.

Selling his heart medication to Children claiming it was "metal-flavored candy!"

Accidentally inhaling too much taxidermy glue, black out, and waking up to discover that he had somehow managed to rob himself. Still tracking down the lost boot buried by his arch-rival "Glue Stan""

If you click FAILED PRODUCTS

Transcript:

"STAN'S FAILED PRODUCTS

The "Wishy Washy!" - A washing machine that somehow makes your clothes dirtier.

The "Counter Fit!" - A rubber band you attach to your kitchen counter to exercise while doing dished. INJURY TOLL: 27

"Welcome to Gravity Town!" - A cartoon show pitch which was unanimously rejected by every network for "blatant Illuminati references."

"Flavored Lottery Tickets!" - Turns out that the kind of people who think they can win the lottery are the kind of people who ignore "do not swallow" instructions. LAWSUIT TOLL: 48

"THE SAD SHACK" - A burlap bag to cover your head so no one can see you rendomly crying during the day. Cheaper than therapy!

A soda called the "Drippy Stanley!" INGREDIENTS: Pine Sol, wood glue, & expired sun tan lotion. Soos tested it and now he can't remember the year 2000."

If you click LOWEST MOMENTS

Transcript:

"LOWEST MOMENTS

That time he somehow got an F- on a history test, which teachers thought was mathematically impossible. Filbrick made him stand on the lawn for two days holding a sign that said "Estra Stan, 3 dollars or better offer."

When "1998's Best Tourist Traps in Oregon" listed the "Mystery Shack" as #99 below "The world's bigest fence" and "the dog that might be thinking human thoughts."

His birthday the year before he met Dipper & Mabel. No one came to "Mr Mystery's Mystery-Age Party & Used Wolf Pet Sale" He'd spent hours writing comedy roasts of employees who never came, burned off one of his eyebrows attempting to make a cake, and drank the night away skeet shooting Sixer's old Beethoven Records.

The day after he met the twins, he overheard them debating whether they should escape out the window and report him to the FBI. Mabel shook a Magic 8-Ball and tey stayed.

Stripping for edible flour in Tijuana Please don't make me elaborate."

If you click DARKEST THOUGHT

Transcript:

"DARKEST THOUGHT

Pin all my crimes on Soos"

If you click HOW HE BEAT ME (You have to keep spamming)

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME He didn't! IM STILL HERE, SUCKER!"

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME LOOK the gambler got a lucky break, alright? A lifelong LOSER was due for ONE freak royal flush! What does it mean? NOTHING! LESS THAN NOTHING! NOT WORTH EVEN THINKING ABOUT!"

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY? That a guy who once tried to EAT THE DECORATIVE POTPURRI out of the bowl in the bank OUTSMARTED ME?! PLEASE! Goofus was just following Gallant's LEAD! It was SIXER'S PLAN, PTSD BARNUM is just a side character, a resume-inflating, cheap trick loving, past-denying overgrown child protected from failure only by a force field of DENIAL AND shamelessness! Sixer ate Stanley's potential in the womb, and the only thing interesting that ever happened to him started when I entered HIS head! END OF STORY! PERIOD. And I have NOTHING MORE TO SAY ABOUT IT!!!!"

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME ..."

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME AND ANOTHER THING! Ever since that pathetic excuse for a 5-sensed three Dimensional one lifespanned skin-puppet was barfed into the universe, he was nothing but a carbon copy of a better genetic duplicate, and he knew it! A trillion years from now when I've broken out of this place nd taken over, he'll be remembered as the special bump under the cement truck of my inevitable triumph asterisk next to an asterisk next to an asterisk next to an asterisk who would be a joke if he was capable of understanding comedy whehich he OBVIOUSLY isn't, I mean, have you heard the hacky matreials he does on his tours, I've been inside his dreams, he WORKSHOPS that material, he PAVES over it, and the best he can do are some puns that would make a third grader cringe and vaudeville that were hack before they were even invented! Its an insult that showed to wear a suit and tie, he should be in a BARREL with SUSPENDERS!

HACK JOKES. CODEPENDENT. SELF-PITYING STUPID "FULLY CLOTHED WOMEN" COULDNT WIN LOCAL ELECTION SMUG SAS-CROTCH TACKY UNWORTHY CLICHE DREAMS "SINGIN' SALMON" AND THAT'S THE FINAL WORD!"

Transcript for this image in specific taken from this Google doc

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME OKAY I SEE WHAT’S HAPPENING HERE! You’re just like those those PREACHY INFANTILZING AUTOMOTONS AT THETHERAPRISM who are SO OBSESSED with getting me to TALK about my “FEELINGS”. YOU THINK YOU CAN GET A RISE OUT OF ME?! TRY! I DARE YOU! I DARE YOU!”

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME KEEP CLICKING! SEE WHAT HAPPENS! I CAN OUT-LAST YOU PAL! DO YOU REALIZE WHO YOU’RE STEPPING TO HERE?! IM LITERALLY INSANE! TRY IT! KEEP TRYING IT! I’VE GOT FOREVER, LET’S GO! COME ON! GO! KEEP CLICKING! KEEP DOING IT!”

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME KEEP DOING IT!"

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME I LOVE IT!"

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?!

⚠︎ FLASH WARNING FOR THE FILES BELLOW ⚠︎

Transcript:

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?!"

Transcript:

"DO Y Ou even fAThoM ho W muCH pAIN IM"

Transcript:

"sOMeTIMES when i CLOSE my eyE i caN"

Transcript:

"I cAN STiLL sEe (encoded in alchemic sipher, author's cipher, theraprism and color cipher (in that order))"

Decoded messege: "The eyes of everyone I've ever"

(last three images)

[mactavsh]

Watching Over

Synopsis: Price tries to keep you awake while captured.

Relationships: Father Figure!Captain John Price x Female Reader, John “Soap” MacTavish x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: violence, swearing, mentions of blood/injuries

Note: Debated posting this one because it is quite self serving, but maybe someone else needs their fictional father figure to tell them they're proud of them too. The title was inspired from this song.

Masterlist

If it was an Intel mission that required a certain level of finesse, Laswell always knew who to send. You and Captain Price worked seamlessly after the many years of training he'd given you. He scouted you early on in your career quickly becoming a mentor in your eyes. He had also easily fallen into a paternal role, unbeknownst to him. 

However, Laswell knew how Price had a habit of adopting kids. As a joke, she kept a running list of his “next of kin”. It started with you and has grown over the years to include Gaz, Soap and Ghost. 

The mission required the two of you to go completely dark, Laswell was sending you to Mexico at the behest of Alejandro. You would both have to be in zero contact until the mission was complete. You both understood the gravity of the situation - there would be no backup.

You were given a month to track down an emerging cartel that was responsible for a rise in weapons trading. Los Vaqueros couldn’t yet make a move against them so Alejandro reached out to Laswell and Price for assistance. 

When you landed in Mexico you had a brief meeting with Alejandro and Rodolfo to learn what they knew. After that you and Captain Price set out to see what you could find. By then end of your first week you had figured out the names of the higher ups and the locations of a few meeting spots.

However, when you had gone to infiltrate the meeting, there were more men than expected. The two of you certainly made quite a dent in their numbers but were eventually overpowered. You had been knocked out by someone who snuck up behind you. Price heard you fall and was distracted just long enough for someone to sneak up behind him, subsequently knocking him out next.

When you woke up you were both chained to metal chairs. You were situated on opposite sides of the room but facing each other. The cold metal dug painfully into your ribs with every breath. There were no windows, no way to tell how long you had been there.

Hours blurred into days then weeks. The daily torture had worn the both of you down. They gave you just enough food to keep you alive and looking at how Price’s features had grown sunken in you assumed yours had as well. 

They had learned early on the dynamic between you two as much as you both tried to remain stoic, so they focused their torture on you hoping it would get Price to talk. What they didn't realize was that both Price and you would sooner die than tell them anything.

You were sure the check-in date Laswell had set had long since passed and you could only imagine the hell Soap, the 141, and Los Vaqueros were raising trying to find out what happened. 

Your captors had just left after another bout of torture trying to get information out of both of you. Bruises began blooming on Price’s bare chest, emerging blue and red tones mixed with already yellow spots. Your arms sported new deep gashes atop barely healed scar tissue. Blood slowly trickled down your arms as your chest heaved. Your mind was dizzy from the pain and it was taking everything in you to stay awake.

“Stay with me, kid.” Price spoke from the other side of the room voice even and calm as it always was.

“I refuse to die at the hands of some random fuckin’ cartel member.” Your voice was firm despite the exhaustion you felt.

“That's my girl.” Price's chest swelled with pride that turned to worry as your head lolled downward. “Tell me about why you joined.”

You groaned and slowly brought your head back up to squint over at him. “Haven't I already?”

“You like to call me an old man.” He smirked, ”I forgot, tell me again.”

You huffed, if your brain wasn’t so foggy you would have immediately realized it was a tactic to keep you awake. “My dad served, his dad served, felt like I had to keep the legacy going. My grandfather also said I’d never outrank him so I had to prove him wrong.”

“That why you’re my youngest Staff Sergeant?”

“You bet your ass it is.”

Price forced out a laugh. “Out of spite, eh?“

“It’s how I do most things.”

“He still around? Your grandfather?”

“Passed a year or so after I was promoted.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

You shrugged as best you could with the chains restricting your movement. “He lived a long happy life.” Price didn’t press further about your family, he knew your parents were also passed and you didn’t have any siblings. The 141 had become your found family and he was happy that you were no longer alone. 

“You remember the day we met?” Price pressed, trying to keep you awake.

“Yeah,” You breathed out, exhaustion dancing in the corner of your eyes. “you called me a muppet.”

Price smiled recalling the day. “You looked bloody ridiculous under all that gear. Five feet tall wearing gear in Ghost’s size.”

“My CO did it on purpose when we got word you were coming to scout recruits for some secret spy shit. He wanted his golden boy to be picked.”

“Bastard's plan failed. When I saw you running the course like that I knew you were the best for the job.”

You looked down at your feet, you weren’t sure you could ever put into words how thankful you were for all he's done for you. “Thank you, for choosing me. You pulled me out of a dark place that day though I didn't see it at the time.”

“You’ve got nothing to thank me for. Hell, you’ve saved my life more times than I can count. I’m proud of you, Y/n. You’re a whole lot more than you give yourself credit for.”

You weren’t sure if it was the praise or the blood loss but tears began to well in your eyes and you were powerless to stop them.

“When we get out of here we are going on leave.” The Captain’s voice was firm, an unofficial order.

“That so? Don’t think my husband would let me go on holiday with another man.” You joked half-heartedly, the day you told Price you were officially dating Soap he had called the sergeant into his office. An hour passed before you saw either of them again and for a week after that Soap could barely make eye contact with the captain. When you and Soap had gotten married it was Price who walked you down the aisle. 

Price rolled his eyes. “All of us. Been too long since we had a day we weren’t fighting for our lives.”

“Would be nice.”

“Thinkin' a lakeside cabin deep in the woods. I’m going to teach everyone how to fish-” Just then the sounds of distant explosions rocked the room you were in. Concrete dust fell into your lap and you stared at it for a moment.

“I hope that's our favorite demolitions expert.” You spoke as you looked back up at Price.

“Wonder how they found this shithole.”

“Alejandro?” You proposed as another explosion sounded, this time closer.

“Maybe. These idiots probably got cocky and sent some bloody ridiculous ransom note to Los Vaqueros.” 

The sound of gunshots grew near, gradually getting louder until they stopped altogether. Price looked at you then you both looked at the door. What felt like an eternity passed until the door was broken open. A familiar masked face entered, gun at the ready until his eyes settled on the room’s occupants.

“Bloody hell,” Ghost said as he dropped his weapon and pressed the button on his communication device. “I’ve got Price and Y/n. Second-floor northwest corner.” He grabbed the bolt cutters off his back and moved towards you, quickly snapping the chains that were holding you in place. He put a hand on your shoulder and you grabbed his forearm, both gently squeezing the other before letting go, a silent reassurance. He then stood and moved toward Price to free him.

You stayed seated and rubbed your wrists, you knew if you stood now the blood loss would likely make you pass out. The sounds of footsteps in the hallway made your body tense before Soap’s frantic form stepped through the doorway.

“Thank fuckin’ Christ.” Soap spoke as he ran toward you. He kneeled in front of you, gently placing his gloved hands on either side of your face. He rubbed his thumb along your cheek, careful of the small cut there. “You alright, love?”

You stared into his eyes for a moment, basking in the blueness that had come to feel like home. A tired smile crossed your face as you leaned into the gentle touch. “Better now.”

Soap smiled back and you and then slowly helped you stand. He kept a gentle hold on your arm as you regained your equilibrium. After you were sure you weren't going to pass out you walked over to Price, immediately wrapping your arms around him.

“We made it, old man.” You spoke into his chest.

Price placed his chin on your head and gently rubbed his hand along your back. “Knew we would, kiddo.” 

Bonus:

“Should I be jealous?” Soap whispered jokingly to Ghost as they watched the exchange.

“Shut the fuck up, Soap.” Ghost rolled his eyes before swatting the back of Soap’s mohawk.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

kid fic??? KID FIC!?!? who what when (like how old are they when they have the kid) 👀 - @mikichko 💕

For the WIP Ask Game!

Oh, the kid fic! This is one of my sillier ones. It's in my "Scraps" folder, but it's fully 5.1k words. It's an omegaverse fic where Soap is an Omega and Ghost finds out on a mission when the two of them discover two teens who have been experimented on. Hijinks ensue.

CW: Omegaverse, human experimentation on minors (off-screen), implied/suggested coercion, canon-typical violence, omegaverse-typical hormone shenanigans

When the bullets stop flying, the real trouble starts. Soap swears, hears Ghost’s irritated “English, MacTavish,” and doesn’t give a flying fuck. Two omegas, two kids, can’t be more than 16 years old, stare up at him with wide eyes and panicked scents. They’re huddled as far under a table as they can get, shackled to the goddamn floor. They have restriction collars on, for fuck’s sake, and ain’t that the topping to a rank fuckin’ day.

“Ah’ve two hostages, omegas, gonna need support gettin’ ‘em oot,” Soap finally says.

“Jesus, Soap,” Ghost mutters, like it’s his fucking fault.

Price’s voice is suddenly in his ear, “What’s the situation, Johnny?”

“Hostages,” Ghost answers.

“Two omegas, wee yins, shackled and collared, gads,” Soap rubs his hand over his face. “Ah can’t get them oot the way ah came in.”

The girl crawls out from under the table, awkwardly, chains clinking. The boy stays where he is, staring at Soap with huge, round eyes.

“You speak English?” Soap asks roughly.

“Yes,” the girl says, staring him down despite how hard she’s shaking. “He’s just a kid, leave him alone and I’ll do whatever you w--”

“Nae, nope, nae,” Soap cuts her off with a horrified laugh. “Ah’m not touching either of ye except to get ye free and clear of this fuckin’ place. Christ.”

The girl sniffs and her eyes go wide. Soap has just enough time to realize that his scent blockers are too worn out to mask the level of stress scent he’s got to be pouring before she says “You’re an omega.”

The boy under the table makes a surprised noise just as Ghost says “Wot?” and Soap would like this fucking day to fucking end.

He scrubs a hand down his face. “Where are the keys?”

The girl points to the body of a man across the room, so Soap stomps over to it and rifles through his pockets. There’s a ring of four keys, two large and two small. He takes them back to the girl and starts on the ankle cuff. It gives way easily, and the girl shakes her leg out.

Once they’re free of the cuffs and collars, Soap makes himself give them a once over. They’re actually not in terrible shape, a little skinny, a little scared around the eyes, but no bruises that he can see beyond where the restraints dug in. The girl is brown-skinned and tall, for an omega, almost as tall as Soap, and she looks like she’d be strong if she had the chance to move. The boy looks almost like a doll, baby fat still clinging stubbornly to his ruddy cheeks. Their clothes are ill fitting, obviously a few sizes too big, but they’re at least clean.

“Hold position,” Price says in his ear after minutes of silence. “Ghost is on his way to escort you. Working on moving up the exfil.”

“Oh tha’s just fuckin’ swell,” Soap mutters under his breath. Louder he says, “Ah can’t get ye oot the wayah got in, so ah’ve backup comin’. ‘E’s an alpha, and scary as all fuck, but he won’t touch ye. Unless ye get shot, then he’s probably carrying ye oot.”

The fear scent, which had faded at least a bit, returns with a vengeance, but the girl nods. “We’ll cooperate.” The boy mumbles something, and the girl hushes him before turning back to Soap with a decisive nod. “We’ll cooperate.”

“Then we wait,” Soap says, and snorts. “Might as well do mah fucking job while a’m here.” H

e starts sweeping the room for the files he was supposed to be looking for. There’s very little paper, so he grumbles and starts extracting hard drives. And then the boy is next to him, screwdriver in hand, viscously pulling apart a PC just enough to yank the hard drive. Then he’s on to the next, face flat, scent a mix of terrified rage.

It’s maybe 10 minutes of quiet, methodical destruction and then Ghost is just there. If the girl’s panic scent hadn’t spiked, Soap would have still been able to smell him, pissed as he is.

“You’re a pain in my arse, MacTavish, you know tha’?” Ghost growls.

“Oh, aye, LT, it’s mah life’s fuckin’ mission,” Soap snarks right back, standing and slinging the pack of hard drives onto his shoulder. It’s way more than they need, but the kid had seemed to need a task, so he'd let him rip apart whatever he'd liked. “Now if ye could dial back the murder alpha so we can get oot of ‘ere, that’d be great.”

The kids scuttle behind Soap a bit, anxiety scent spiking when Ghost looks at them. With a huff, he turns back to the hall. “I’ve cleared a bit of path, but we’re fighting our way out. Keep the kids quiet, stay small. Follow on my signal.” And he’s gone.

The fight out is less of a fight and more a desperate attempt to keep the kids from hyperventilating. Ghost is in rare form, meaning there’s nothing but dead bodies leading the way out. There’s one in particular with a jaw missing that the kids get stuck staring at. And then they’re calmer, all of a sudden. The boy gives the body a little kick on the way past.

Getting them to the fence without being seen is stressful, like all extractions, but uneventful. Ghost doesn’t meet them at the tree line, but that doesn’t mean much. He’s out there somewhere. Soap gets the kids to the RV point, and on to the vehicle without incident and without seeing hide or hair of their escort.

“You go on with the kiddies,” Ghost says in his ear. “They don’t need my scent scaring the piss out 'f 'em.”

“Aye,” Soap acknowledges, and gestures the kids into the car. “Let’s go.”

“What about your alpha?” the boy asks, and Soap jumps at the sound of his voice.

“He’ll get picked up later. We’re going.”

“But he protected us,” the boy says, eyes darting around in the darkness. “Shouldn’t he stay with us?”

“Aye, ‘e’s a great, big protector,” Soap rolls his eyes. “And ‘e stinks to high heaven. Ye really want to sit in an enclosed space with ‘im?”

“I think he smells nice,” the girl says.

“He smells spicy,” the boy says. “Like chipotle peppers.”

“Just when he’s angry,” Soap finds himself saying. “Normally he smells like oatmeal cookies.”

“What the fuck, Soap?” Ghost sighs.

“Just get in the car,” Soap says, a little desperately. “We need to leave.”

The boy’s eyes dart around, faster. “Don’t be mad? But… you… probably shouldn’t drive.”

Soap’s face must do something, because the girl spits it out plainly, “They gave us something, it’s a hormone thing, like a heat inducer. But not like a mating heat, it’s more of a family heat? It makes our brains fuzzy, and any omegas around us, and I think it’s gonna kick in soon.”

“Och, can today get any better?”

“Status update,” Price says in Soap’s ear.

“Ran into a bit of a snag,” Ghost replies. “Hostages were lab rats and Soap’s compromised. Hormones.”

Price swears. “Can you still get to exfil?”

“Ghost has to drive,” Soap says, resigned. To the kids he says, “Get in the damn truck and strap yourselves doon. You’re gonna wish ah was behind the wheel before long.”

Ghost seems to materialize at Soap’s shoulder. “Quit telling people I can't drive.”

Soap does not jump. He stomps over to the front passenger seat and climbs in. “Then quit being a shite driver.”