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queers-gambit · 2 months ago

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Shadows of the Past

prompt: the High King recruits you personally for the expedition headed by your intended, Herald Elrond. your company encounters the darkness and Galadriel portrays an apology to her friend.

pairing: Elrond x betrothed!female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 5.1k+

note: wonky brain can think of nothing but this show right now i'm so sorry

warnings: cursing, spoilers, another reader insert for the haters, depiction of character injury, emotions are hard, small canon complicit angst, literal hurt and comfort, established relationship.

"Tell me again," your brother-in-law asked, "why you're not leading this company?"

You smirked, stepping over a fallen branch, "Because the High King has bestowed the honor to Herald Elrond, Daenor."

"Then why enlist you, too?"

"I am a mere emissary of the King. Besides, skills are required for this quest, Daenor, why would I not be employed?"

"Right, of course. I guess my question should be, what skills do you possess?" He teased, laughing when you shoved his shoulder playfully. "But truly," he asked, "why would the King send you both, so close to your wedding day? Why send you, too, if not to lead this company?" However, before you could answer, the air turned serious when the procession you followed came to a rather disturbing discovery upon the laid path.

You leaned on the intact stone while listening to Camnir discuss with Elrond possible paths forward after intending to cross a bridge over the gorge, only to find it in ruins and rubble. Elrond originally questioned the force that could've brought the ancient stone down in such a harsh and violent manner, thinking perhaps lightning, but another voice refuted this idea by claiming it was the Dark Lord, Sauron.

This familiar voice was that of Lady Galadriel - and while you've known her to be a fellow Commander, you were unsure of her title now. Yes, she was technically lieutenant of this company, and that was what she was addressed as, but you knew how stubborn the Elleth was and that she would not be so easily demoted.

You said nothing. You just listened as Camnir told Elrond they could take one of two paths: one so out of the way, it would add two weeks to their journey, and the other, down the same darkened path the Dark Lord laid.

Upon mentioning the path before them through the Hills of Tyrn Gorthad, Lady Galadriel twitched. She had been daintily ghosting her fingertips over the charred and mangled metal of the lanterns set on the imploded bridge, seemingly stuck in thought, then freezing. You couldn't see her face, only taking note of the brisk tension mounting in the Elleth's shoulders.

She spoke, "There is evil in those hills." The group shared silent looks, each with varying degrees of mistrust or caution. "Ancient, and full with malice," Galadriel glared at the landscape before her. "Sauron means for us to go that way. We must go another," She informed the group as if she were in a position to give orders.

From the crouch he took to observe the damage done to the stone, Elrond rose while speaking in a firm tone that overpowered the Lady's, "The Enemy is doubtless watching both roads." His eyes flickered over yours last as jetting over each of his soldiers, clocking the way you nodded in agreement. To you, it seemed common sense: of course, the bad guy was watching the paths that would lead the good guys to him! He was evil, not stupid! Elrond reminded his people, "This collapse makes it more critical than ever to reach Celebrimbor at speed."

"We won't reach anywhere with speed if we walk into a trap," Galadriel argued; the two friends (and distant cousins) held each other's even stare for several moments.

"What say you, Commander?" You asked, hoping to break the tension and little trance they were locked in. No, no, not out of jealousy, but out of protectiveness; wanting to break the ice for the sake of Elrond's authority.

"We go South," Elrond decided, turning from the fragmented bridge stump, ready to lead his company on, when Galadriel spoke again - from the same spot she had yet to move from.

"Commander, I must protest."

You did not move when the others did, you waited when Elrond paused and replied, "Your opinion on the matter has been heard."

He went to walk away again when Galadriel growled with a rolling tongue, "Elrond!"

You flinched to a halt in blinding irritation, upset by your peer's very audacity. Everyone halted around you, Camnir even shifting in his stance out of nervousness from the heat of your glare not on him. Your fiancé turned back to glare at his friend, ending with finality, "Opinion heard, lieutenant. We go South." He gave an encouraging command in Sindarin, leading only a few strides before pausing. When you automatically halted yourself at his side, he nodded and spoke softly while seemingly mindlessly grabbing your hand to give an affectionate and reassuring squeeze, "Lead them on, love, stay on the trail."

You glanced back at Galadriel, who was finally moving to keep up, and whispered for only his ears, "You sure?"

"I'm sure, go on," he confirmed, nodding again and offering a soft sort of half-smirk. His eyes, though, were squinted; indicating he was genuine in his displayed gentleness. With a squeeze to his hand, you offered one last stale look at Galadriel, who expertly avoided your eyes, then let go and walked forward to lead the way.

Behind you, Elrond snarled his scolding of Galadriel, insisting she shape up, forgo trust in the Ring of Power she wore, and if that wasn't possible, she needed to excuse herself. The Commander of the Northern Armies rebutdtaled that she did not desire to see any member of the company slain - a veiled response to her stubbornness to not abandon their quest and refusal to ignore her ring.

Forward, you marched.

Though you seldom showed it, you felt fearfully nervous when the night fell and your company crept further into what felt like infected wood. The ground turned spongey, a particular stench permeated the air, the darkness shadowed most all you saw. The trees loomed tall, the moon casted a bright silver light, and dead leaves crunched under booted, lithe steps. Elrond shared a nervous look with you, his hand only briefly brushing yours; a way to say he was there with you without being overly affectionate in front of his soldiers.

From the corner of his eye, Elrond saw your head tilt back in wonder before a fell voice hissed on the wind, "I am waiting for you." But in truth, nobody was sure about what they heard or did not hear. Perhaps they did not want to know, but still, the voice made the area further darken in suspicion, and once in a small clearing, all came to a halt to survey the surrounding area. There was a threat somewhere, but where exactly was yet to be determined.

Daenor questioned sharply, "What is this place?"

"Tyrn Gorthad," Camnir answered. "Known to men as the Barrow-downs."

You chimed in softly, "In ancient days, this was where they laid their lords and kings to rest."

"I feel no rest here," Daenor grumbled. "Even the trees seem ill at ease."

"Fear not," Vorohil chimed in, sounding amused while stepping up to (and through) your group's observation deck. "Dead men are no threat."

"Well, we've lived very different lives," you scoffed under your breath.

However, after Vorohil, Elrond followed; casting a look at the lot of you and reminding, "Keep moving."

You let the others pass ahead of you, trying to shake off your nerves and mentally prepare yourself for the hell you were walking into. Something anchored your feet, refusing to let go; every nerve in your body on fire and begging you not to wade into the dark. Your name was spoken gently, Galadriel's hand on your shoulder startling you.

"What is it?" She asked quietly.

"We shouldn't be here," you whispered, Elrond doubling back when he noted your delay. Not wanting a confrontation, Galadriel sighed and patted your shoulder before slipping away as your lover approached you.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly but urgently.

"There's something sinister here," you told him stiffly, stepping half a step closer, "watching us."

He took a breath, "If Galadriel's ring - "

"It's not that!" You insisted. "I feel it, Elrond, not the ring, not anything Galadriel said. I feel it."

Elrond's brows furrowed at the tips, like something hooked them to yank towards his nose. "Then stay close to me," he decided.

"We should move on, quickly," you snatched his hand to prevent him from parting; his gaze turning worried. "Please, listen to me."

"My love," he spoke softly, squeezing your hand, "it is a gravesite, nothing more. The dead cannot harm us."

"It is the living's influence I fear."

He sighed and nodded, "We will not linger." His forehead found yours to rest, "But do not stray from my side, it is of great comfort."

"To us both," you agreed, letting him pull back. Yet he did not relinquish hold of your hand, keeping it tight in his and leading you into the clearing the others were surveying.

"Commanders," Rían called, standing over the corpses of two horses... Attacked seemingly a time ago, and upon inspection, discovered the pairing bodily remains of an Elvish party.

Elrond questioned your name when you squatted, brushing aside debris. "Their barding is from Lindon," you told him, gently ghosting the leather with your touch. You looked up to meet his eyes, glancing over to see Galadriel, predicting, "The King sent a dispatch to warn Celebrimbor."

Galadriel nodded in confirmation as Rían discovered the encased message from the King in a decorative tube, asking, "This dispatch?"

Slowly, you stood from your position and held a silent hand out, being given the tube for inspection; all eyes on you, waiting for whatever your overly keen (even for an Elf) eyes would see. After confirming the contents, your eyes locked with Galadriel's, and she spoke what you both were thinking: "We must go from this place."

Elrond appeared ready to agree, tension mounting as your company seemingly felt the blanket of panic being thrown over them all. From the dark, a set of rotting chains shot out to coil around Daemor, yanking him into the toxic, spongey earth and across the clearing.

"Y/N!" He shouted in shock, and without thinking, your hands slapped into his as if in an effort to anchor him... But you were both yanked off your feet. "Commander!"

"Daenor! NO!"

"Help me! Y/N, Y/N, please!"

"Hold onto me!" You begged, being drug on your belly.

"Sister! Sister, please, help me! Help me!" He sobbed in fear, a vice grip on your wrists and hands surely to leave blemishes. "Don't let go! Pl-eeeeeaaaaaase!"

"Daenor!" You whimpered, struggling as the force that held you both hostage was too strong to maintain a safe, secure hold permanently - meaning, saving him was futile.

Your name was bellowed, being drug towards one of the opened tombs; but at the last moment, the tether that kept you and Daenor together was broken and he was pulled into the abyss of the grave. You whimpered in fear, slowly lifting from your belly and to your knees as Daenor's screams were silenced... In fact, the entire area turned eerily quiet.

Behind you, the others rushed to the scene and Elrond immediately dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around you. "Are you hurt? Hey, hey, look at me, are you hurt?" He demanded, fearful that the chains might shoot out again to finish the job to swallow you in the dark. He checked for any physical injury, but the tension was too great to ignore; the mouth of the tomb glaring at you, forcing Elrond to silence himself.

You flinched back into his hold when the gruesome sounds of crunching bone and squelching flesh was heard; indicating whatever was inside, whatever claimed Daenor, had disposed of his living body.

Elrond took advantage of your flinch to rock you back onto your feet, standing as a group as a voice hissed, "Cold old be hand and heart and bone, And cold be sleep under stone, Never more to wake on stony bed, Never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead." Galadriel brandished her sword as the wights first emerged, revealing their zombified forms. You encouraged the group to form together in a circle as the demons emerged. The Voice continued, "In the black wind, the stars shall die."

"Prepare yourselves," Galadriel warned, the group arming themselves.

"What are they?" Rían trembled.

From perfectly between Galadriel and Elrond, you answered, "They are those who laid in the tombs, the Lords and Kings of old... Lore calls them Barrow-wights."

The creatures surrounded your company, leering, growling, sizing you up. In Sindarin, Elrond commanded, "Attack!"

In tandem, the group lunged; weapons striking the ghoulish foes but they merely disintegrated in air... Then reformed. It seemed that fighting only served to irritate the enemies, their collective hissing and screeching making stomachs curl and skin to prickle in fear. Galadriel clocked this first, warning Rían, "Still your arrow!"

But the Elleth was already locked and loaded, the string slipping from her grip to fire at a distant wight. But it only soared through the zombie's face, not stopping, directing towards Camnir - but Elrond intercepted, swiping his sword to cut its path and save his soldier. The creature rejuvenated.

"They're impervious to our weapons," Camnir voiced, fear inking his tone.

Elrond's eyes found yours, seemingly connected by a string of similar thought; remembering the old wives tales you once read a lifetime ago, ancient lore about Barrow-wights dating back to the time of Melkor. So, he sheathed his sword and told his soldiers, "Hold fast." To Camnir, the closest to him, he demanded, "Come with me!"

"Where are you going?"

"Help me open it," Elrond told him, trying to pry open the sealed tomb as you swiped at another wight's skeletal hand reaching for you.

"What?"

"Hurry!" Elrond barked in Sandarin.

Back in your group, Rían muttered nervously, "Commander?"

"Ease yourself, remain calm..."

"What do we do?"

"Make no sudden movements. Stay together, fend them off but don't engage a fight," you advised, "hold strong - "

A gasp cut off your words when chains coiled around your ankle; securing in a tight zip that knocked you off balance and back into the toxic dirt. You scrambled for purchase on anything, finding only wet leaves; and suddenly, the chain turned taunt with tension before you were being sucked back into another tomb.

"Commander!" Vorohil shouted, trying to reach for you, but just missing as you were reeled back over the dirt.

"Y/N!" Rían cried, alerting Elrond and Camnir of your situation. You whimpered in fear, sobbing as you couldn't fight the force; couldn't save yourself; only able to helplessly submit to your approaching doom after clawing unsuccessfully for salvation.

"No! No!" You yelped, trying to remove the chains, but another tightened around the first chain in a horribly tight, vice grip that strangled breath from your lungs from the pure burning sting. With the last of your air, you screamed, "Elrond! Please!"

You heard Vorohil sprinting after you, freezing in your escape attempt when a grisly, decayed hand extended from the ebony shadow of the tomb towards you. There was a panicked finality to your blood, fear clogging rational thought; never seeing Elrond, only focused on the threat pulling you in. But the half-Elf you meant to marry in only a few weeks time came surging onto the scene, sliding on his knees at the mouth of the tomb and swinging a sword to sever both hand and chains.

"Y/N - "

"Fuck's sake!" You snarled, unintentionally cutting Elrond off; shoving the chains from your leg, scrambling to your feet.

You were just about to thank Elrond when he instead encouraged, "Here, take this." He held out one of the ancient weapons excavated from the tomb, nodding with increased vigor before turning away when it was in your grip. You hacked and stabbed the wight that came after you, Elrond and Camnir tossing the rest of the company weapons to cast down the surrounding enemies.

"How?" Rían asked in shock, seeing the wisps of the last wights waft into the wind.

"According to lore, only the blades with which they were buried with will return such creatures to rest," Elrond explained.

"But the men buried here have been entombed for over a thousand years," Camnir trembled, turning to his companion.

Vorohil seethed, "I think it is safe to say that something has awoken them."

"No," Galadriel argued, glaring down at the wight's decaying body. "Someone... Awakening evil. Across all Middle-earth."

You ignored the conversation and slowly took a seat; leaving your weapon in the dirt while focusing on hiking up your trouser leg after discarding your boot. With a clenched jaw, you revealed the wight's chains left sizzling lacerations; the metal seemingly enchanted to burn damn near to the bone, creating craters, indentations, dimples to your otherwise pure and unblemished flesh.

You winced when fabric stuck to the wound, bearing your teeth while hissing through them; breathing turning staggered as the pain became biting. "Commander?" You heard Camnir question softly with concern, others turning to set their attention on you.

"It's nothing," you insisted, observing the wound and deciding a tourniquet was required.

"You're hurt," Elrond growled, surging forward and unintentionally knocking Galadriel's shoulder - but the Elleth didn't take offense. The others wanted to close in around you, but Galadriel held them back after witnessing you before. As Commander of the Southern Armies, you had seen many battles with Galadriel, and sometimes, you sustained injury; she's witnessed how you turned akin to a panicked animal when accosted with attention - no matter how genuine the concern.

"It's nothing," you repeated, reaching for one of your belts, "I'm fine."

"You're not - "

"It's a burn, Elrond, nothing more," you sniffled, feeling how far up the chain had gone; deciding to tie the tourniquet above your knee.

"Let me," Elrond whispered, laying his hands over yours that shook and trembled without abandon.

"Elrond - "

"Just," he snipped, needing to pause and take a breath, "please, let me help you."

Behind him, Galadriel ushered the others away to a short distance; deciding to gather whatever belongings of Daenor they could to honor his lost life. You met Elrond's worried gaze and nodded, sniffling, "Okay. J-Just above the knee, here," you showed him.

"I know, love, I've got yah," he breathed, shuffling closer and kneeling beside you while taking the belt. You pulled the material of your trousers straight, grimacing when Elrond first wrapped the leather around your thigh. "All right?" He checked, seeing you nod rapidly; no words used because you were holding your breath to prevent yourself from crying out. When Elrond first tied the leather, you whimpered and his eyes turned teary. "It's gonna get worse, love, just hang on f'me - " He warned you before suddenly tightening the tourniquet, making you yelp painfully. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I know it hurts, I know, I know, I'm so sorry," he repeated, your hands latching onto his forearms out of subconscious need to feel him for comfort while he secured the leather belt. When done, he reached for your cheeks and pet hair that escaped your braids behind your ears, encouraging, "Breathe for me, just breathe, love. You're all right, there you go. Breathe. Good, good, I've got you, I'm so sorry, just breathe, just breathe... Oh, I, uh..."

"What's wrong?" You worried when he trailed off; eyes full of tears and his mouth half opening while retracting his hands that you held by his wrists still.

"I've blood on my hands..." He splayed them in display between you two.

"It's okay - "

"Got it on your face," he frowned.

"It's fine," you insisted, sniffling sadly, "it's my blood, anyway. We should be moving - "

"You're hurt."

"I know, but it's not life threatening, I don't need coddled."

"I'm not coddling you - "

"You are," you half smirked, "because you're worried."

"Of course, I am," he scoffed, using his sleeve to wipe your cheeks and temples free of blood. "How can I not be? You..." His voice quaked with emotion, "You are my starlight, my fairest friend, my sweetest love. Seeing you hurt..."

"I know," you whispered, bringing him close so your foreheads met, "but I'm okay."

"For now."

You sighed, pulling back to respond, "Don't say that, don't even think it. Optimism is our only friend in this situation, else, what is the point of going after Sauron?"

He needed to take a breath, sniffling his own emotion. "Fine. We should rest until morning... Regroup, give you time off this leg for now."

You nodded, "You sure?"

"I think we could all use the reprieve," he admitted.

"Does that include you?" You asked while caressing the coils of chestnut off his forehead.

"I'm fine - "

"As I am?"

Elrond paused, then scoffed a small laugh and nodded. "I'm managing..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"Hey," you whispered, bringing him back to your forehead, "you're doing an excellent job of leading this company. But we all have limits and tonight was a lot, you deserve the time to breathe."

"Time is something we don't have."

"We have enough for now," you insisted, more or less forcing Elrond to relent.

As Daenor's belongings were pulled from the tomb and buried in the scorched earth his killers had rose from, the company each offered you hollowed words of condolences for your loss. Beside Elrond, it was known, you and your brother-in-law were great friends - being the reason he met and eventually married your sister. His sword was embedded in the ground as a marker, the company gathered to silently pay their respects while their commander stood at the riverbed's edge in deep, solemn contemplation.

You held one of his daggers, intending to keep it in reminder; pocketing a few pieces of jewelry, intending to give it to his wife. However, all was interrupted when from a distance, you heard the booming rumble of drums. Not just any drums, but the beating sounds of a marching procession; something ominous and daunting. You perked up, standing to your feet as something dark and familiar started in your chest before sinking to your gut. By looks of your company, they, too, heard the drums and shared your worried thoughts; sheathing Daenor's dagger to your belt and surging for where Elrond stood speaking to Galadriel.

"Forgive my intrusion," you bid the pair, Elrond turning instantly.

"Are you all right?" His hand reached for your hip instantly, trying to help stabilize you - if you had been off balance.

Your hand laid to his cheek, answering swiftly, "I'm fine," before dropping your hand to rest on his bicep, "but we've heard drums - in the deep. Sounds like there's a host on the march."

This sent the company into action, tracking the sound of the enemy over leagues of wooded area. By the end of the day, at dusk, you all gathered slowly on a darkened clifftop; watching in horror as legions of orcs marched down the beaten path to the sounds of their war drums. "Orc treachery," Rían cursed upon sight.

"That trail...?" Elrond questioned, letting go of his secure hold on you to lower in a squat, "I gather it leads to - "

"Eregion, my liege," Camnir confirmed.

"We came in search of Sauron," Vorohil narrated everyone's thought and question, "And instead, we find Adar?"

"Could they be in league with each other or... Perhaps at war," Elrond thought aloud, you shifting on your bad leg for a moment to readjust your stance among the trees.

"A legion of Orcs have marched into Elvish lands," Galadriel spat in anger, glaring at Elrond. "We are all of us at war."

Elrond agreed, "Word of this must reach the High King before our host sails for Mordor."

The silence was calm in a resolute sort of way, everyone just pausing to bask in their shock and awe. This was shattered when a distant Orc shouted, "There!" An arrow thunked into the trunk of the tree behind you, a horse neighing shrilly as it galloped through the forrest towards freedom and away from its pursuers. Just as the company turned to face the enemy, another arrow flew through the air almost inconspicuously, finding its mark in the soft part of your chest just beneath your sternum.

You grunted when the arrow landed, taking half a step back and wanting to cry out. Instead, you just held where the arrow embedded itself in your flesh. You felt dizzy suddenly, clothes and hand saturating with blood as the arrow had pierced through the aorta artery to cause major damage. Irreparable damage. Fatal damage...

In a whisper, Elrond told his soldiers in Sindarin, "Hold!"

In the distance, the Orcs were heard complaining about the horse escaping while a few random arrows were fired off again in a last ditch effort to wound the animal. If you did not move, the mangey creatures did not notice, smell, or sense you. But you couldn't form a full coherent thought, just understanding your injury, the looming grace of Death soon to kiss you, that breath was becoming increasingly harder to come by, and the pain - the pain was aching, soon spiking.

You did not mean to, but your fear was too great to ignore, and you stuttered in a whimpered gasp, "El-Elrond?"

His head snapped over, seeing the arrow protruding from your chest and feeling himself crumble inside. You were choking on blood, trying to remain silent - and they all saw that effort. How blood came splattering from your nose as you tried to subdue your noise, but that only made it harder to breathe; inadvertently choking, a groan strangled from your lungs just as Elrond reached you. He held you to him with his chest and single arm anchoring your waist, the other lifting to lay his hand over your mouth as Galadriel glued to your other side for added support.

The company moved back several yards, covering ground swiftly before laying you down behind a natural outcropping of protective rock. You were struggling, unable to fight it any longer; hacking a cough, blood spewing, splattering, streaking down your neck, the pain insurmountable. Elrond's one hand cushioned under your head, tears in his eyes as he could only hold you as the Orcs were heard closing in, other hand once more clasping over your mouth.

Still, Galadriel was sandwiching you, wincing when Elrond's hand stifled your groans of pain as he strained himself to peak over the top of the rocks. When he lowered himself, your lover leaned his forehead on your temple and hushed in your ear, "I'm so sorry." Upon lifting, he met Galadriel's eyes, who had been examining your wound, only to find her's full of sadness. Her head shook with muted words - telling him whatever she saw wasn't good.

You whimpered lightly. The Orcs could smell an Elf.

You wrangled Elrond's hand from your mouth, "Lis-Listen to me - "

"Hush, do not - "

"Shut up and listen!" You hissed, keeping hold of his hand, "'M not makin' it outta this, love, you've gotta go. L-Leave me - "

"No!"

"Elrond. Leave me," you insisted, "and they'll k-know 's m-me they smell. Y-You have t'warn the H-High King."

"I'm not leaving you," Elrond grit.

You smiled sadly, "And I love y-you for that. B-But you h-have t-t-to."

"Not in this lifetime," he begged, a few tears falling. "Just give me time to think, I'll figure something out."

"Time... Is something we don't have," you repeated his words from earlier. Suddenly, Galadriel just knew something without words; a feeling; a sort of understanding that she could help in this moment. She heard you whisper, "I'm so sorry, this wasn't supposed to happen. W-We should've had so much more time - "

"Please, don't say that," Elrond begged quietly.

Galadriel took a sobering breath and moved her hands to the base of the arrow; pressing enough to make you wince and breath in sharply. Elrond went to tell her to back off, but paused when The Ring of Power she wore twinkled in the dark night - seemingly pulling you out of that fatal twilight. Your breathing turned slow... Eyes clearing of hazy pain... Life breathing back into your flesh...

The arrow fell out, making all three of you gasp. Galadriel's hands fell away as your own shot to where your wound had been - finding it healed between the fabric the arrow tore. You looked at the Elleth in shock, breathing, "You healed me...?"

She just nodded, Vorohil speaking in astonished Sindarin, "Amazing."

"You're - You're, you are - ?" Elrond stuttered in shock.

"I'm okay," you confirmed, caressing his cheek as he beamed down at you in pure glee. "I'm okay, love, I'm okay; Galadriel, she healed me," you sniffled, looking to your friend. "Thank you, my friend."

"Of course," she breathed, the Orcs heard shouting in the distance to overturn every rock. With a look of shared understanding, Galadriel told Elrond over your body while you tried to mop up some blood, "Get to Lindon. I will occupy them as long as I am able. Get her up."

Elrond huffed through his nose, but did as bid - not like he needed to even be told in the first place. He gathered you into himself and stood, making sure you were stable before looking back at Galadriel; slowly squatting again as she wriggled the ring from her finger. "Take it," she breathed, presenting Elrond with the band of jewelry. When he made no move, she snatched his hand and folded the ring into his grasp, "Take it, Elrond!"

"What will you do?" He asked begrudgingly, storing the ring in a leather pouch for safety.

"Something foolish, probably," she smirked, nodding in meaning. "Now, go. Go!"

"Elrond, love," you whispered, holding your hand out for his and heaving him to his feet. "With me, c'mon, quickly," you advised the others, beginning the trek down a new path in the woods. As you moved, you realized that Galadriel's ring hadn't just healed the arrow wound, but the Barrow-wight's chain, as well, which helps remedy your limp.

A semi-safe distance away, there came a decently loud and abrupt boom behind you, and upon looking, saw the trees up in flames. It was where Galadriel must've been battling the Orcs alone.

In earnest impression, Camnir narrated, "She scarified herself to save us all."

Elrond came to a halt when he realized his company members were captivated by the sight of heroics in action. So he interrupted their dreamy thoughts by calling, "No, you are mistaken, Camnir." He stalked forward through his delegates, telling them in their native tongue, "She did not do it to save us."

Tension simmered over each member.

"What?" Camnir questioned.

Elrond turned away from the spectacle with Galadriel's fire, consulting the dark again, speaking with ramped distain in Sandarin, "She did it to save the ring." His hand reached for yours again, the two of you leading the company forward with him calling over his shoulder in the Common Tongue, "Hurry!"

requesting rules and masterlist

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ghcstao3 · 3 months ago

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simon riley does not have soft spots, or so he claims.

he’s never seen a need to give special treatment to anyone. he’s never seen a need to create more vulnerabilities for himself, when the greatest one already exists in the form of him being human. he has people and things he prefers, sure, but nothing that would have him faltering in any circumstance.

simon riley does not have soft spots, or so he claims. but john mactavish would like to beg to differ.

because he sees how simon isn’t just a cold-hearted soldier, isn’t just an unfeeling operative. john sees how simon puts everyone before himself, sees how he’ll pull recruits aside if he figures they’re struggling and offer them guidance. john sees how simon is always the first to volunteer to keep watch only to never switch shifts, how simon is always the last to eat so everyone else can first, how simon mends wounds before he so much as thinks about his own.

john also sees how simon doesn’t kill bugs, how he provides the utmost care in bringing them outside. how he stops to pet cats and dogs and any other animal that might wander up to him while they’re on missions. how he takes care to know the locals of where they are and make an effort to communicate in their language. how he acts like a big brother whenever in the company of children.

maybe simon says he doesn’t have soft spots because he doesn’t want to appear or think of himself as weak—but if anything, john thinks those soft spots only make him that much stronger.

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap

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pin-k-ink · 4 months ago

Text

prey // hoshina soshiro

tw ⇢ dub-con, possessive!hoshina, mutual masturbation, fingering, implied masturbation (male), breeding kink, hoshina has a shit ton of fantasies about you, unprotected sex, squirting, voyeurism

wc ⇢ 3.7k

From the very start, you stuck out like a sore thumb in the Defense Force - a delicate little lamb stumbling into the wolves' den. Hoshina noticed everything about you that screamed "doesn't belong". The timid way your trembling hands could barely keep a grip on the standard-issued sidearm. How you were always the last one struggling to pick yourself up off the dirt after drills, clothes disheveled and cheeks flushed.

He knew the only reason you got admitted was because of his glowing personal recommendation to Ashiro. "Yeah, the kid's greener than spring grass, but c'mon - ya know we need a pretty young thing around to inspire the new recruits' efforts, if ya know what I mean," Hoshina had said with a shameless grin, openly ogling your picture right there in Ashiro's office.

What he didn't let on was the real reason he'd stuck his neck out for you. From the moment those big, innocent eyes met his heated stare during your entry tests, Hoshina felt an overwhelming fascination take root deep in his core. An utterly primal, possessive instinct bleeding through about wanting to claim you, corrupt you, make you his in every salacious way.

Of course, you never seemed to notice the molten heat blazing in Hoshina’s eyes as they raked over your form hungrily. You were too busy trying not to drop your rifle or stumble through the drills. It just made you even more irresistible in his mind - this fragile, clueless gem in desperate need of his skilled hands to mold and defile you.

So Hoshina took his role as your personal instructor very seriously during those "private lessons" he insisted on. During these sessions when he would "help" adjust your stance, he imagined bending you over right there and taking you from behind until you sobbed his name. Just picturing your pretty pink lips falling open in a shocked little 'o' as he claimed you roughly was enough to make his pants feel unbearably tight.

"That's it, beautiful," he'd rasp in your ear, feeling you shudder at the rough timbre. "Don't ya feel safer wrapped in my arms like this?"

The way you shivered at the endearment and instinctively pressed back against his chest nearly shattered Hoshina’s restraint. He had to bite the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper to keep from grinding against your pert little ass with a deep, possessive growl. From rutting against you like an animal in heat until you were a writhing, whimpering mess begging for his cock.

On missions, Hoshina positioned you as far from danger as possible not just to protect you - but to prevent anyone else from catching even a glimpse of the obscenely filthy thoughts devouring his mind. Just the idea of you, his sacrosanct prize, being leered at by those other brutish soldiers made his blood boil in a possessive frenzy. No, you were meant for his eyes only, a pure virgin just begging to be defiled and debased into his personal cocksleeve.

He just liked the thought of you waiting obediently on the sidelines, perfect and untouched, until he could return and use that lush, biteable mouth for more devious purposes. You existed only to be guarded, pampered, and most importantly, thoroughly ruined by his thick cock splitting you open over and over until you were bred full of his seed.

In his most depraved dreams, Hoshina saw himself pinning your nude form beneath him on the very training mats meant for conditioning. Having you splayed and whimpering for him to defile every intimate crevice, then dressing your pliant, ruined body in nothing but one of his shirts before parading you through headquarters. Letting everyone know just whom you belonged to with your swollen lips and tell-tale waddle as evidence of his ownership.

Hoshina had to actively force himself not to stare too hard whenever you shifted or bent over around him, biting his tongue until he tasted copper to keep from growling outright at those teasing glimpses of lace or bare skin. It was torture having his wet dream made flesh within arm's reach daily yet still so untouchable and forbidden.

Mealtimes were always a special kind of torture for Hoshina. He would observe you from across the hall, seemingly indifferent, while in reality he was devouring every tantalizing detail. The way your tongue peeked out to chase a stray crumb across those plump, glistening lips. How you would unconsciously suckle the tip between your teeth while studying reports, utterly unaware of how it made his cock throb heavily imagining that lush mouth stuffed full of his girth. More than once, Hoshina had to abruptly excuse himself before ripping his pants open and fisting his crudely aching erection right there like some baseless animal.

But the worst for his tenuous restraint were the nights he patrolled the residential halls. Hoshina always made sure to pass by your quarters, ears straining for any tiny sound that might indicate you were awake. Or better yet, touching yourself with those delicate fingers he constantly fantasized about replacing with his stiff, calloused digits. Working you open for his thick cock to breed you properly like the innocent little fuckpet you were always meant to be for him.

On those nights when your muffled whimpers or gasps did reach his ears, it took every ounce of Hoshina’s willpower not to simply break down the door and barge in. To finally claim what he'd been lusting over and fantasizing about for so long - bending you over your tiny bunk and rutting into you until the only sounds were your shrill cries and the obscene squelch of his cock slamming against your ripened cunt.

At least, that was the routine Hoshina had grown accustomed to - right up until the night his darkest cravings nearly consumed him whole. He was passing your door during his rounds when the unmistakable cry of unrestrained hopelessness pierced straight through the bulkhead and into his core. A delirious sob of pure, untamed desperation in your voice that could only indicate one thing...

You weren’t able to get yourself off.

Hoshina didn't even realize he had frozen in place, painfully hard erection tenting his uniform as needy little pants and moans assaulted his senses in a torrent of aural obscenity. In an instant, scorching images detonated in Hoshina’s brain - you splayed out wanton, small fingers desperately working into your creamy cunt as you mewled his name, trying to chase your own pleasure because you knew nothing else would sate you now. That single revelation crashed over him like a breaking dam, his military conditioning fracturing as those pornographic little gasps and whines drove him into a frenzy...

Then, before any rational thought could intervene, Hoshina was already shoving open the door, eyes blown wide and fixated on your nude form. You were spread-eagled on the bed, fingers furiously stroking between your thighs as a thin sheen of sweat made your skin glow in the low light. Your hair was mussed, your pupils dilated, and those soft lips were parted in a wordless cry as your head thrashed back and forth.

But what really caught his attention was the obscene amount of slick that soaked your inner thighs and dripped onto the sheets. You were utterly drenched, and from the look of it, had been at it for a while judging by the frustrated tears trickling down your face.

It took you a while to notice his presence, but once you did, your fingers immediately stilled and those gorgeous eyes snapped to his. They were wide and fearful, the look of a frightened rabbit pinned in a snare. You couldn't possibly understand the sheer extent of his need, his primal urge to own and possess you, but there was no way he’d rush in and risk scaring you off now.

"Vice-Captain! W-What are you doing here?" You stammered, hastily tugging the thin sheets around your nude form. It was such a pointless gesture, given how much of your body had been exposed to his gaze. Still, your shy modesty only served to inflame Hoshina’s desire further.

"Just makin' my rounds," he answered, his voice an unintentional growl as his cock pulsed hotly against his uniform. "And heard someone having trouble sleepin', so I thought I'd offer some assistance."

He could practically hear the hammering of your pulse as he closed the door behind him and stalked towards the bunk, the air thick and heavy with his carnal intent. You shrank back against the headboard, and Hoshina couldn't help but admire the sight of your body trembling before him like a helpless prey animal.

"I-I don't know what you mean, Vice-Captain," you tried to protest, but the blush staining your cheeks and the way your thighs rubbed together in a vain attempt to alleviate the pressure betrayed your arousal. You knew exactly what he meant, and it made Hoshina’s cock throb harder, leaking a wet spot onto his uniform pants.

"Oh? But it's my job to ensure every recruit's needs are taken care of," he purred, looming closer and enjoying the way you quivered under his gaze. "Especially one as pretty and helpless as you."

Hoshina relished the sharp gasp that escaped your lips as he pried the covers away, exposing your bare, quivering form. "Tell me, sweetheart," he murmured, tracing his calloused fingertips along your jawline. "Have ya been havin' bad dreams? Yer soaked through. I'm sure it must have felt awful tryin' to handle it yerself."

Your only response was a choked whimper as Hoshina’s thumb stroked over the seam of your lips. "It's alright. I’ll teach you how to properly satisfy yourself," he crooned, pressing the digit past your plush lips until you obediently began sucking, eyes glassy and unfocused.

"That's a good girl. Ya want my help, don't ya?"

Hoshina was met with a tiny, frantic nod as his thumb popped free. A low groan ripped through his throat when he saw the line of saliva connecting his thumb to your swollen lips, a perfect little preview of what was to come.

"Spread those legs for me, princess," he ordered, not bothering to hide the ravenous lust dripping from his tone. "Let me see just how much of a mess ya made."

Hoshina had no patience left to wait for you, roughly gripping your thighs and prying them apart, groaning at the sight. Your pussy was slick with need, the lips puffy and flushed as it pulsed, hungry for attention.

He couldn't help but tease his fingers over the swollen folds, and you gasped, hips bucking up against his touch.

In an instant, your hand shot out to grasp his forearm, a tiny moan leaving your lips as his rough skin brushed over your sensitive cunt. "I-I wanna do it myself," you murmured, but Hoshina couldn't suppress a derisive chuckle at your words.

"Very well then, sweetheart? Show me how well you can use these little fingers," he teased, guiding your hand between your thighs until your fingertips were pressing lightly against your soaked slit. "Go on. Open yerself up."

You swallowed nervously, slowly parting your folds with your delicate digits, revealing the dripping hole to his burning gaze. The sight alone was enough to make his cock leak obscenely into his uniform. He wanted nothing more than to pin your pliant, trembling body down and thrust into you relentlessly, filling you up with his cum until it dripped from your abused pussy.

But no, he should savor every second of this, wait and see how far he could push your limits until you were utterly undone.

"Don't be shy," Hoshina cooed, his hand wrapping around your smaller wrist to guide one of your digits into the tight hole. "Be a good girl and show me how deep you can take it."

He groaned at the lewd squelch of your finger slipping into the silky, tight heat of your pussy, his cock throbbing in anticipation. You were so wet and tight around just a single digit, he couldn't imagine how heavenly your cunt would feel wrapped around his cock, sucking him in.

"Put another one in," he ordered, and you obeyed without a second thought, moaning as a second finger joined the first, your walls squeezing around the intrusion. Hoshina’s other hand dipped down to palm his aching erection through his pants, a low hiss escaping him at the slight relief.

"Now curl yer fingers a bit and see if ya can find yer sweet spot," he murmured, his gaze rapt and hungry as he watched your fingers disappear into your tight hole, slick and sticky with arousal.

"I... I can't!" you whimpered, frustration evident in your tone. Hoshina’s mouth stretched into a feral grin at the desperate pitch.

"Of course ya can, princess," he purred, reaching out to wrap his larger hand around your wrist, guiding your motions. He slowly pumped your fingers in and out, making sure you could feel every ridge and crevice along the soft walls. "Here, let me show ya..."

You moaned brokenly, arching your back off the bed and pushing against his hand as he made you curl your fingers, the rough pads brushing over the spongy, hidden spot that had you keening.

"V-Vice-Captain! Ah!" you cried, writhing under his firm grip as he began thrusting your fingers in and out faster, hitting that same spot every time. Your legs thrashed on the bed, heels digging into the sheets.

"Right there, huh? I bet it feels good to have yer fingers inside ya," Hoshina growled, watching you buck and gasp under his touch, your fingers fucking in and out of your dripping cunt. He was so close to claiming you, just a bit more and he could finally bury himself into that perfect, virgin pussy.

To stave off his mounting desperation, Hoshina reached down to unzip his pants, sighing in relief as his cock sprang free. He hissed at the first brush of his calloused hand along his weeping shaft, precum oozing from the swollen tip. He could easily imagine it was your tiny, wet hand wrapped around his girth, stroking him with clumsy enthusiasm.

"V-Vice-Captain..." Your breathless, high-pitched plea shattered his control, and before Hoshina could stop himself, he was leaning over and yanking your fingers out, his thick digits immediately taking their place. He snarled at the velvety heat clamping around his fingers, the obscenely wet sound as he pistoned his fingers into you mercilessly.

"Holy shit, sweetheart. Yer so fuckin' tight," Hoshina panted, his eyes glued to where his fingers were pumping into you. Your pussy was dripping, coating his digits with thick, pearlescent slick that dribbled down your inner thighs and onto the bed. "I bet my cock would fit so nicely in here."

Your breathy moans were punctuated with little "ah"s and gasps as Hoshina’s fingers worked deeper into your needy cunt. You were so lost in the sensation of being filled, his fingers stroking the soft walls, rubbing over the most sensitive areas and making you shudder and arch your back off the mattress.

"Please..." you whimpered, grinding yourself against his fingers. "More."

"Oh? Does my baby girl want more?" Hoshina growled, and you nodded desperately, unable to string together a proper response as he began to scissor his fingers apart, stretching your dripping walls. You cried out at the sudden burning sensation, hands clawing at the sheets.

"So tight," he rasped, his other hand fisting around his leaking shaft, stroking from root to tip as he imagined how those velvety walls would feel wrapped around his girth. You looked so pretty and helpless spread beneath him, legs splayed open and shaking with need as his thick digits continued their assault on your soaked cunt.

Fuck, he can’t take it anymore.

"Hold still, sweetheart," he crooned, his voice hoarse with lust as he climbed onto the bed, his large form eclipsing yours as he hovered above you. While you were distracted by his fingers, Hoshina used his other hand to tear off his belt and shimmy his pants down his thighs. He let out a satisfied groan as his cock bobbed free, hung and heavy between his legs, the swollen tip an angry shade of red.

The sudden feeling of his thick fingers withdrawing from your cunt made you cry out, a disappointed whine escaping your lips as your walls clamped around nothing. You weren’t given a chance to miss the sensation, though, because as soon as Hoshina was finished kicking his pants off, his cock was already pushing against your soaked slit, the thick head slipping in easily.

"V-Vice-Captain," you whined, trying to pull away from the sudden intrusion, but his iron grip on your hips kept you in place. Hoshina growled and yanked you towards him, his hips snapping forward as his cock forced its way past your fluttering walls. He felt the way your body seized up, the walls clamping around him tightly as he sheathed himself into you fully, your pliant body pinned under him.

"F-Fuck," he panted, his fingers gripping your hips tight enough to leave bruises as he bottomed out. He could feel every inch of your soft walls gripping his length, pulsing and rippling around his cock, and it was absolute torture not to fuck into you mercilessly right then.

"Ah, ah, it's too much!" You cried, clawing at the sheets as you tried to squirm away, but his grip was too strong. Tears were welling up in your eyes, and Hoshina couldn't help but think how absolutely adorable and fucked out you looked with his cock buried inside you.

"Just breathe, sweetheart. Breathe and relax," he rasped, forcing himself to keep his hips still while your body adjusted to his size. Your walls were squeezing him so tight, he could feel every pulse and shudder as they rippled around his girth.

"It hurts," you sobbed, trembling as you tried to catch your breath, tears trickling down your cheeks. Hoshina’s hand reached up to gently brush the hair out of your face, his calloused fingertips lingering along the curve of your cheek.

"Shh, I know, baby. I know. But yer bein' such a good girl f'me, aren't ya?"

He cooed soft praises and encouragement into your ear, stroking your hair as his other hand traced patterns on your hip, soothing the tense muscles. He thrust his hips shallowly, his cock sliding in and out of you as you gradually relaxed, the pain morphing into pleasure.

"That's it. So good," he groaned, feeling your walls relax and flutter around him, allowing him to bury his cock in you even deeper. He couldn't hold back anymore, the desire to pound you into the mattress overriding his concern for your wellbeing.

"You feel so fuckin' good, sweetheart. So hot and tight for me," Hoshina snarled, his hands gripping your hips tight as he slammed his hips against yours, his thick shaft bottoming out inside you. You moaned at the lewd squelch of slick dripping down onto the bed, your walls fluttering around him as his cock rubbed against the most sensitive spots.

"Mmm, that's a good girl," he praised, watching the way your tits bounced and jiggled as he thrust into you, his balls slapping against your ass. The sight of your pliant, ruined body beneath him only fueled his depraved fantasies, his mind filled with a torrent of vulgar thoughts.

Hoshina had imagined you like this countless times, and seeing you so utterly debauched and pliant beneath him was beyond anything he'd ever dreamed. He wanted to fuck you until your body was imprinted with the shape of his cock, wanted to see how many loads he could pump into your perfect, tight pussy. Wanted to see you full and bred, your stomach bloated with his seed.

"Ah, a-ah, Vice-Captain, please!" you sobbed, the pain long gone and replaced with sheer bliss as his cock hit all the right places. His balls were slapping against your ass as his thick shaft speared into you, the lewd squelch of each thrust sending tingles of pleasure down your spine.

Hoshina didn't respond, too lost in his own pleasure as his cock slid in and out of your cunt. It was hot and tight, the perfect sleeve for his thick shaft, and he could feel the tell-tale sign of his orgasm building. He wanted to see you stuffed full of his cum, watch it drip out of your used cunt.

He growled and picked up the pace, his cock pistoning in and out of you rapidly, the air filled with the sounds of your moans and skin slapping against skin. Your hands scrambled to grasp at something, anything, and finally settled on gripping the sheets as his cock drove into you relentlessly.

It wasn’t long before you felt your walls start to flutter around him, the coil in your belly tightening until it finally snapped. Your entire body went taut, back arching off the bed as the orgasm crashed over you. Hot, fragrant liquid gushed out of your hole, drenching Hoshina’s thighs and the sheets beneath.

"Oh fuck, that's it, baby. Squirt all over my cock," he groaned, his fingers gripping your hips tighter as he fucked you through your climax, the hot spray of your juices coating his cock. He couldn't hold back any longer, and with one final, brutal thrust, his cock throbbed and spilled inside you. Thick ropes of cum coated your walls, filling you up completely as he bottomed out.

He shuddered, his cock twitching as it emptied the last of his load into your soaked pussy, a low moan rumbling in his chest. It felt like heaven being buried inside you, his cum dripping down his balls. You whimpered and clenched around him, milking his cock, and he could feel your pussy clenching and sucking around him, hungry for more.

When he finally pulled out, you whimpered at the loss, his thick cum leaking out of your abused hole. You looked absolutely debauched, and he couldn't resist leaning down to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth and tangling with yours.

"Mm, ya did so good, sweetheart. Feel better now?"

You nodded weakly, your eyes drooping with exhaustion. He could see the tiredness on your face, the way your eyes were starting to close as your body sank into the bed, spent and used.

He chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. He could feel your breath against his skin, the steady rise and fall of your chest as you slowly drifted off.

"Sweet dreams, baby."

#kaijuu no. 8 x reader smut #kaiju 8 smut #kaiju 8 x reader #kaijuu no. 8 x reader #kaijuu no. 8 #hoshina soshiro x reader smut #hoshina smut #hoshina x reader smut #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro smut #hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina soshiro #soshiro hoshina #hoshina x reader #soshiro x reader smut #soshiro smut #soshiro x reader

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latenightdaydreams · 5 months ago

Note

Omega recruit asking Alpha Colonel König to help with their heat.

Been on the team for a while now, a good soldier. Never had an issue with the suppressants before, but the Colonels scent is so addictive and the suppressants just don't work with him.

Alpha!König x Omega!Reader (Fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, oral, p in v, knotty, love bite

1.5k word count

🐺

As you sit on your bed with your head in your hands, you’re still consumed with the scent of Colonel König. You pull your shirt closer to your nose. His smell lingers from him, correcting your posture. No matter how much you try, you cannot seem to resist his scent, especially during heat. It doesn’t help that he’s a powerful Alpha that is still kind and treats Omegas with respect.

After a few moments of thinking, you stand quickly and march towards your room door. You walk through base with purpose, praying König is still in his office, tail wagging slightly from anxiety. Are you truly about to do this?

Before you even knock on his office door, König sniffs the air, already smelling your approach. Your smell is aromatic and addictive. Whenever you’re in heat, König has a strong desire to reach out and claim you as his own, taste your slick, and bite the sweet neck. Yet, he remains calm and neutral around you.

You knock on his door, your heart beating so loud you can hear it.

“Come in.” König’s Austrian accent carries through the door.

Slowly you turn the knob, entering his office. Your eyes fall on König’s pale blue, his tail wagging and ears relaxed. The door falls closed behind you as you walk forward. There is an anxious look on your face as you sit, looking at the floor.

“What brings you in, Schatz?” König leans back in his chair; his eyes drift up and down your body.

“I have to ask something of you.” You look up to meet his gaze.

König nods, waiting for you to continue. He’s having a hard time concentrating on the powerful smell of you in heat.

“I- this is embarrassing…”

“Don’t be embarrassed, go on.”

“I want to ask if you might… well…help with my heat.” Your ears lay down as you wait for his response. Your body is riddled with anxiety.

König takes a deep breath in; all he can smell is you. The sweet slick and your arousal. Your neck is unmarked. “You want me? Are you sure you could…handle me?” He smiles, showing off his sharp canines.

“Yes.”

König raises his eyebrows; he wasn’t expecting such a confident answer from you. His tail wags faster as he leans forward to look at you better. “Well then, let’s not waste any time.”

He stands from his desk and reaches his large hand out to you. You put your much smaller hand in his; surprised he accepted your request. König walks you from his office to the barrack, holding the door open for you to walk inside.

As you enter, your senses get overwhelmed. His musk is everywhere. You can feel a chill run down your spine as König places a hand on your lower back. He gently guides you to his bed, wasting no time. You sit, his hands caress your face, dropping to your body. He’s hungry, starving, for just a taste of that slick.

“May I undress you, Liebling?”

You nod without hesitation, helping him undress you. The more layers that were removed from your body, the stronger your smell becomes. A low growl escapes his lips as he gazes down at you in only your underwear. Your perfect breasts are visible for him to enjoy.

He moves in closer to smell you. His nose pressing into the nap of your neck. It takes everything in him to not mark you at this moment as his lips graze the sensitive skin. His kisses begin to move down your body, smelling the valley between your breasts as he moves down.

You gaze down at him, your excitement almost too much. Every soft kiss makes your body tingle. König gently pulls down your soft white panties to expose your soaking wet pussy to him. He puts his nose close to your pussy and takes a long deep breath, your scent pure with no filters. You smell like the sweetest treat. He’s never smelled anything like this before. You’re the one.

“You…you smell exquisite.” His voice came out with a deep huff.

After a moment of anticipation, he leans in and begins to devour that sweet little cunt. His long tongue lapping at every inch of your pussy. Your taste consumes him as he moves lower, pushing his tongue into your tight little hole.

You fall back on to his bed as he grabs your legs and pulls them over his shoulder. A loud moan escapes from your lips as he tongue swirls inside of your cunt. “König.”

His eyes flicker up to look at your body as you squirm. Your breasts jiggle as you move. “You’re beautiful, Liebling.” He whispers before going back to your cunt. His tongue flicks over your click rapidly as your body contorts from ecstasy. Right as you’re on the edge of an orgasm, König pulls away with a smirk.

“You can’t cum without me, Liebling.” König chuckles standing up, undressing himself with haste. His eyes are glued to your wet pretty pussy.

As his boxers drop to the ground your eyes go wide seeing how ginormous his cock is. You can’t wait to feel it stretch you, feeling his fat knot inside. König would see by the look in your eyes that you’re not intimidated by his size, instead you seem to desire him more.

“Are you ready for me?” He grasps his cock at the base and moves closer to you. You nod and gaze into his eyes. “Get on all fours.”

You quickly sit up and turn to get on all fours, your pussy tingling. König steps behind you and lines himself up with your entrance. His hand runs down your back, feeling the curve of your body.

König’s hands settle on your hips, pulling you to him as he pushes forward into you. A soft moan leaves your lips as you feel the tip of his fat cock press into you. Your hands grasp the bedsheets in front of you. A low growl slips from his lips as he watches your pussy stretch intently.

He pushes in more and your back begins to arch from the feeling of being torn in two. “Oh, fuck König.”

A cocky smile appears on his face as he listens to your reaction. You're perfect. The way you smell, taste, the way your pussy is just sucking him into it more. You have such a perfectly tight and warm pussy. It’s his now, you’re his.

His hips pull back and slam against you again, your walls flutter around him in response. There is no gentle love making, König’s been craving you for too long to take his time. Your slick is completely covering his cock now, spreading to his pubic hair as he continues to ram his cock into you.

You lose your strength and fall forward into the bed, ass still up in the air. Your body quivers from the blissful pleasure his cock gives you. One of his hands snakes up your back and pulls you back to him by your hair, wrapping his other hand around your neck to hold you.

“Is this what you needed? To get fucked?”

“Yes, König…yes.” You gasp in moans. His free hand snakes around to your bouncing breasts and squeezes them.

“Are you close again?” He knows the answer is yes as you slowly squeeze around his length.

“Y-yes…please…can I cum?” You beg so pathetically; how can König say no?

“Yes. Cum for me. Cum on my cock.” He buries his nose into the crook of your neck, craving the feeling of his teeth in your skin.

A strong sensation builds from your cunt and releases throughout your whole body making you almost go limp in his grasp. Loud moans escape your mouth, thanking König for letting you cum.

Such an obedient Omega.

The tightness of your pussy mixed with your scent overwhelming his senses was driving König over the edge. He pulls out and climbs on to the bed, sitting at the edge. His hands wrap around your body, lifting you to place you on his lap.

König’s cock slips right back into your pussy, your release making you wetter than before. His blue eyes gaze into yours as his hands wrap underneath your ass, bouncing you on his cock.

“Tell me you want to be mine.” His eyes lock onto yours mixed with so much emotion.

“I want to be yours König.” You moan out as he impales you on his cock.

“Forever?” He grunts.

“Yes, forever.”

König gazes into your eyes and slowly lowers you down more on to his cock, watching your face as he gently shoves his knot into you. Your jaw drops open and gasps, fingers digging into his chest.

“You’ve got this, you can take it.” His voice was so gentle, his eyebrows pinched together.

A wave of pain rushes through you until you’re finally seated all the way down on his cock. You let out gasping breaths as his cock throbs deeply inside of you, covering your fertile walls with his cum. He leans forward, tilting your head to the side slightly.

You let out a soft whimper as König digs his teeth deep into the crook of your neck. He bites down hard, breaking the skin and marking you as his. His and his alone. When he pulls his mouth away, he looks at the mark he’s left on your skin.

“Mine. Only mine. Okay?” His voice demanding showing he’s serious.

“Only yours.”

König moves back on the bed with you still attached to him, making the bed comfortable for the two of you to lay in for the next few hours while you’re stuck to him. His arms wrap around you, holding you to him tightly as he kisses you all over and whispers sweet nothings to you.

844 notes · View notes

rileyslibrary · 2 years ago

Text

No, soldier, no.

Synopsis: You have been transferred to a British military base to work with Ghost on a new mission. As a non-native English speaker, you are not very keen on British slang/culture and need some time to pick up on things. Ghost tries to help you navigate through your language barriers and finds it rather amusing in the process.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1,287

Notes:

Dedicated to all the non-native English speakers like myself who are trying their best and to the native English-speaking friends who teach us without judgment.

I’m not good at writing combat and action scenes yet, so I gave them another sedentary job once again.

You voted fluff; I give you something similar—a cute crackfic.To those who voted angst, I’ll give it to you next time, promise.

WARNING: Swearing. Again.

Want more?

———————————————————————

“And this,” you point at the spread map on the table, “is the enemy’s safe house.”

He looks at the pinpoint with furrowed eyebrows, giving small and repeated nods.

“Did we get clearance on what time to strike?” He asks, his eyes fixed on the mark as if he’s conversing with that little red pin.

“No sir, not yet,” you reply, “the Captain will come shortly to brief us on that matter.”

He stands up straight. His focus is still fixed on the map, trailing with his eyes along the road you marked. “Who’s coming with us?” He asks.

“Captain left some files on your desk, sir,” you explain, “he said that we should go through them together and choose the right recruits for the job.”

“Together?” he turns at you with the same expression he was looking at the pinpoint.

“Yes, sir, together.”

“I can do that on my own, soldier.”

“Of course, you can,” you say, “but this is a joint mission, and I get to have some saying as well, no?”

“No.” He states.

“No?”

“No.” He repeats. “I’ll lead them, so I’m the one who gets to choose the right people for my team,” he claims, walking to his desk to check on the new recruits’ files.

You clear your throat. “And my side has to have a saying to that, sir.” You reply with as much authority as you can.

He gives you a side eye, opens a file and begins to read, ignoring your statement.

You knew he was difficult; they told you that much. Simon “Ghost” Riley likes to work alone, they said. And when you asked them what this so-called Ghost does when he’s on a joint mission with other forces, they replied with the same statement; that he’s being difficult.

But you have worked with difficult people before. Most of them are like that in the force, especially regarding hierarchy. Little did he know that you had the upper hand in this situation. Difficult people hate having to deal with other difficult people.

“No problem,” you say, acting agreeable, “I just want to warn you that some of the people in those files are not very obedient and don’t like to be ordered around.”

“There’s no such thing in the army, soldier.”

“Oh, but there is, lieutenant,” you say, hiding a smile, “especially if they’re the Captain’s godson or the General’s nephew; they tend to slack a lot.”

“Fucking bastards,” he swears and rolls his eyes. He leaves the file before him and picks the rest of the pile, swearing profanities. He begins shuffling through the papers with eagerness. You speculate he’s trying to find the people you’re referring to. A sign that indicates a blood relation with the General, birth certificates, notes that specify who baptised who, perhaps. Of course, he can’t find anything, and he gives up.

“Which of these fuckers are they?” he finally asks, throwing the papers on his desk.

“May I approach your desk to show you, Lieutenant?” You ask out of politeness.

“Oh, no, no need to do that, Y/N,” he replies sarcastically. He looks at the mess he created with the scattered papers, “just point them to me telepathically, and I’ll discard them.”

You stare at him, and he meets your gaze. You didn’t get any definite answer from him, so you are waiting for a clear answer, just like they taught you to do ever so obediently. Unfortunately, he misunderstands your stance.

“Please tell me you’re not actually trying to send me information via brainwaves, soldier,” he comments with a desperate tone.

“I was just waiting for an answer, Lieutenant.” You explain.

He keeps staring at you before he lets another exhale and rubs his eyes.

“Yes, Y/N,” he says, opening his arms wide, almost theatrically. “You may approach my desk and pinpoint those brats at me, just like you did with that checkmark before on the map.”

You nod and do as you are told. You sit opposite Ghost’s desk and start sorting out the messy papers. “Apologies, sir,” you say, “sometimes it’s tough to understand when you’re being sarcastic.”

He looks at you dumbfounded. “At what point did you think I wasn’t being sarcastic when referring to telepathy?” He asks.

“Well, it was between sarcastic or angry, sir,” you explain, looking embarrassed, “and I didn’t want to take my chances.”

He rubs his forehead and stays still for a while. You peak at him from the corner of your eye; he looks like he’s calming down, contemplating. As if he’s reflecting on his actions.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, “I sometimes forget we have a language barrier.”

“And cultural.” You add.

“And cultural.” He agrees.

You both begin to collaborate on the recruits’ profiles. You discard the ones you know are not fit for the job (i.e. the ones that will clash with Ghost and his personality) and hand him the shortlisted ones. He begins muttering something about “CROW bags”, and you look at him like a puppy trying to understand the “sit” command. He patiently explains that “CROW bags” stand for “Combat Recruit Of War”, which, in the British army, is a soldier fresh out of training, a newbie, and therefore not fit for the job. When you ask him what the “bag” means, he shrugs and says he doesn’t know. You shortlist five profiles you’re both happy with and agree to wrap them up. You lean on the desk and stand up.

“Sir,” you say, still leaning on the table, “you need to change your desk.”

“What’s wrong with it?” He asks.

“It’s wanky, sir.”

You’ve never seen him turn with such force to look at you. He shakes his head vigorously like he’s forcing thoughts to travel from his brain to his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he says, trying to suppress a laugh, “my desk is what?”

“Wanky,” you repeat with confidence, “all this time that we’ve been going back and forth with the files, the table was wanking.”

“The table was…” he leans back in his chair and covers his already concealed mouth with his gloved hand.

“…wanking, sir,” you complete his sentence, “here, look,” and proceed to shake the unsteady desk.

“You need to either get a new desk or screw this one better, sir.” You advise him, now examining the desk’s legs. He pinches his nose’s bridge and murmurs something like “table, you fucking wanker” under his breath before finally gathering the courage to explain.

“No, soldier, it’s not—“

But as he speaks, Captain Price interrupts your conversation and walks into the office. He looks at Ghost, who is almost teary-eyed from the suppressed laugh and then at you.

“What are you two up to?” He asks with a smile, holding his tactical vest with his thumbs in its pockets. Ghost gestures for him to stop talking.

“I was just telling the lieutenant—” you begin, but Ghost interrupts you.

“The table is wonky, or rather wobbly, and I need to tighten the bolts.” He says and gives you a meaningful look. Epiphany strikes you, and you widen your eyes.

Price shakes the desk and looks at you both. “Look at that,” he says, “you’re right, Y/N”, and shoots you one of his signature smiles, only to be met by the red hue that has spread across your face from embarrassment and eyes threatening to bolt from your head. You lower your head in response. Price moves his gaze from you to Ghost in confusion.

“We managed to shortlist a few, Capt,” he says to Price changing the conversation.

“Very well,” Price says. “Any good?”

“Yes,” you reply, “only the good ones—no CROW bars.”

“It’s bags, kid,” Ghost whispers, and Price chuckles slightly, “CROW bags.”

———————————————————————

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ceilidho · 1 year ago

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prompt: you keep seeing apparitions of a dead special forces operative who's been haunting the barracks. (light angst; nsfw) (actual ghost simon riley)

War dogs chewed up and spat out by the machinery of war.

It is an incalculable blow to learn of his death. Worse still that you learn of it by happenstance, one officer talking to another, only listening in because it’s been weeks since you’ve seen him and their voices go hushed in that way that makes your ears prick up. You’re sitting at a nearby table in the canteen when someone says the single most devastating words that have ever been spoken near you.

“They weren’t able to recover the whole body, just some of it. Pretty gruesome. Don’t know if you ever met him, but he was an alright guy—pretty quiet. Scary, yeah, but—I don’t know. He was fair. Got the job done though. Soap’s taking it pretty hard.”

You barely breathe at the news. Something is squeezing your heart until it overfills on the other side.

You walk around base in a daze after that. It’s not anyone’s fault that you aren’t notified—no one was supposed to know. Your whole arrangement with Simon was predicated on the knowledge that it would never be revealed to your commanding officers or the rest of the infantry. Made sense at the time. Makes less sense now when your world is falling apart and you have no way of even requesting Ghost’s dog tags.

Pain holds you upright like a splint while it also tries to smother you. You crawl back to your barracks after training the recruits, voice a hoarse whisper in your throat. Showers are an optimal place to cry, when maybe you won’t be heard. Grief is not grief when there’s nowhere for it to go.

Maybe Soap was privy enough to Ghost’s life to know. He doesn’t spend time with you, but you see him once from across the tarmac on a flight out and his gaze lingers on you. There are deep troughs under his eyes, dark even with the distance between you. His posture is still, rigid; despite his uniform being pressed and his hair being cut and gelled into place, there is something singularly heavy weighing him down.

He nods from across the way to you. You grit your jaw and nod back.

It’s the only time you’ll ever acknowledge it. Soap never seeks you out after that—maybe it’s too painful. Maybe shared pain isn’t always enough.

The worst is only finding out weeks later that Ghost has been buried. That’s your closure. An offhand comment from an operations officer on a smoke break. Your numb hand flicking a lighter. Rain breaking in the early twilight hours and you stand in it so long that you shiver and shake on your way back to your room.

Lightning that crackles in the storm clouds, illuminating the place where you just stood outside while you stare from your window. Illuminating someone standing where you just were. You squint, but they round the bend to one of the other buildings before you can make them out.

Every soldier has a story. Conducting barracks checks on staff duty only to find a soldier with half their jaw missing asking for a cigarette. A marine approaching a soldier asking for his rifle, garbed in a ripped vest from early Iraq. Squad bays known for apparitions, known for hauntings. Figures seen from the trees, the half-shadowed remains of old tanks, burned and hollowed out, suddenly upright and mobile.

In certain barracks, soldiers won’t even leave their rooms at night to use the washroom. They’d rather piss in old bottles or hold off until morning light altogether. It’s common enough to be joked about, for soldiers to trade stories in the mess over supper, trying to spook each other with the things they’ve seen or claimed to see.

You can tell the ones who’ve actually seen things from those who haven’t though. The ones who have are often quieter, often only laugh a little. The truth is buried in their inability to fully commit to the bit. It’s the knowing that does that.

Knowing that there are things that death cannot hide.

The first time you see Simon again, it’s not a homecoming. You know there’s something very wrong.

It’s 3am and someone’s standing in front of your door. You feel it before you see them, feel something like every single hair on your body standing on end and the sudden lucid thought in the middle of a dream that you need to wake up. That you need to wake up right now.

Heart racing when your eyes snap open. Sweat already slicking the backs of your knees. You’re lying on your side, hands curled close to your face, and you feel its gaze on you like the heaviest dread you’ve ever felt in your life. You stare at the wall that your bed is pushed up against until you find the courage to roll over.

Just a shape in the dark. A dark shape. Distinct from the rest of the darkness in your room. Tall as it is wide. The slightest motion to it, like breathing or the gentle swaying of the human body when it’s allowed to be loose.

There’s a lamp on your end table. You flick it on without tearing your eyes away from the dark shape looming by the door, but when light unveils your room, it flickers away like a bad illusion. Just a jacket hung up on the back of the door. Your heart races still.

When the light goes off, the shadow doesn’t reappear.

It might not be him, but something’s haunting you. You spoon cereal into your mouth in the morning with a shaking hand. It’s the massive shape of a body behind the shower curtain in your private bathroom that has you certain—certain—that someone’s there until you whip it to the side and see only tile wall. You know what you saw though, and you know from the way the top of it peeked over the curtain that it was blond.

Weeks go by. You’re in a bivy sack and a voice you recognize wakes you up for watch. It’s the same voice that used to rumble low in your ear when you let him into your bed on leave (you always used to take them at the same time, no one the wiser). You’re back on base in your room and something leans its full weight onto your bed. You wake up to him sitting on the edge of your bed, blood dripping from an old wound. Him though, skull mask and all. Eyes shadowed always, black staring at you seeing and unseeing.

You don’t need to ask what he wants from you. He lumbers around the barracks like a wraith that only you can see. Never truer to his old moniker than he is in death. A civilian worker flirts with you one day and he winds up in the infirmary. Fell down the stairs, another sergeant tells you when you ask. You smile tight, brittle. If only.

He slips into your bed at night when the lights are shut and you’ve turned over onto your side. You can’t see him, but the bed compresses under his weight like it did when he was alive. He’s still for a minute, stare heavy on you while you lie there motionless, waiting him out. When he finally lays a hand on your hip, you flinch at how normal it feels. Like he didn’t go out and die one day. Like it’s really him at your back dragging a hand down the curve of your hip and over your thigh.

He divests you of your pyjamas the same way he used to in motel rooms, your apartment off-base, his cabin up north that you still have the key to but can’t bring yourself to visit. You let him. Shorts pulled down and kicked to the bottom of the bed, then your underwear. Shirt rucked up so he can fit a big, rough hand over your tit. His hands are solid where they touch you, nothing ghostly about them. He squeezes like the memory of your flesh is half-gone, like he needs to sink himself into you again.

“Missed…you…” His voice comes like a deep rumble, tectonic plates shifting over the asthenosphere.

The hand on your breast slides up, over the delicate skin of your throat, over where your pulse goes mad and you dry swallow because there’s nothing in your mouth. Over and up the curve of your cheek, thumb pressing against your lips, curling your top lip up until you’re almost kissing it. Then he lets go, hand coming back down to your hip.

“Simon, are you—” you start, cut off on a gasp when he lifts your leg over his hip and something presses against your opening. Notches there, sinks in hot inch after hot inch. Head spinning and breath wild when he spears you on his thick length, half-tumbling over you until you’re lying prone on your bed. Simon’s as heavy as you remember, the full weight of him keeping you trapped there. You can only take. You can only draw in a deep breath and let out the softest sounds while he presses in,

“Had to…come back,” the ghost of your old lover says, growling into your ear. “Couldn’t…leave you here…alone.”

You wonder what’s really behind the mask this time. His hands and dick feel flesh enough, but fear still quivers in your belly because you know that whatever it is pressing you down with a firm hand on your shoulder blade, it’s not fully him.

You’ve heard of ghosts haunting places but never people. There’s something achingly loyal about the way he fucks you though. It’s dark and hot under him, and he mouths where he can, mask pulled up finally. Not that you can see. Better that you can’t, maybe. Pulsing in and out of your cunt, silent but for his shallow intakes of breath. He feels enormous and terrifying at your back.

A big arm still clad in his old uniform jacket is braced beside your head. Simon whispers apologies into your hair; that he pulled himself out of a grave for a second time because he couldn’t untangle his soul from yours, but he got it wrong this time around. He didn’t make it in time.

“I won’t leave you though, love,” he says around kisses laid tender on the nape of your neck. He bites the meat of your shoulder hard enough to leave an imprint of his teeth. “Never gonna leave you.” His words make you slicker, hotter; tightening around him until he snarls and fucks more viciously. A promise you thought he couldn’t keep.

In the morning, you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You take off your shirt and turn around. There’s a red bite mark on your upper left shoulder and it aches when you touch it.

#cod mw2 #ceil writing #cod x reader #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost/reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you

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konigsblog · 7 months ago

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reader who’s a nurse and also has onlyfans as a side hustle

anon, you didn't specify which character you wanted, so i decided to go for könig, since it seems likely he'd do something like this. :3 💉🩻

tw/cw: smut, blackmail, non-con/dub-con, dark content, sex worker!reader. dead dove: do not eat. MDNI 18+

you work as a medic in the military. most days, you sit inside your office, daydreaming and tapping your pen against the table repetitively, before you're bothered by the same soldier.

it's always könig. you constantly ask him why he's coming over so often, especially in the middle of the night when he hasn't been up to anything. you're used to recruits and soldiers coming in after sparring or a long mission, but könig comes in at random times, complaining about his... crotch.

he's very blunt about it; he claims it's your job to make him feel better, and just as you're about to scold him, he brings up the onlyfans account he'd seen. you're immediately taken back; your face drops, and you get uncomfortable with the topic and his bluntness. you try to send him away, only for könig to threaten to leak it if you don't help him.

you don't exactly have a choice in this situation. you unfasten his belt as he leans against the medical bed, sucking in a sharp breath as you get closer and closer to jerking him off, his eyes wide as you wrap your fingers around his boner, stroking him slowly. fuck, you jerk him off so well. he's left trembling with anticipation and pleasure, excited as you jerk him off. he'll encourage you to show him what else you can do or ask if he can recreate a porn video with you.

what can you really say? you're at a loss for words. you just agree to whatever he asks of you. he admires the softness of your ass, running his fingers along your aroused clit and slick slit, collecting your juices as he presses his face against your ass, his tongue rubbing at your cunt slowly and messily, coating your pearly, sticky heat in his drool.

#orla speaks #tw: blackmail #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #tw: dark content #konig x reader #konig x you #konig call of duty #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig x you #cod x reader #cod x reader smut #cod smut #cod

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alwayscorvus · 1 month ago

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Hi!! Can I request Jiyan from Wuwa with a scary reader? I mean, the other Midnight Rangers might be scared of the reader because of her/his constant smile in ABSOLUTELY any situation

Jiyan x scary reader

scary!malereader x Jiyan, fluff;

Bruh I got 4 request for Jiyan on the same day (02.10) and I am absolutely excited and terrified at the same time. Imma write everything at some point, but uni has started so it can take a while. Thanks a lot anon! Hope it's acceptable

M/N was definitely a special figure in the ranks of Midnight Rangers. Although he didn't hold the highest position and wasn't making the most important decisions, his name was known to everyone. And it brought a real fear among the Midnight Rangers.

But what's quite surprising, all this terror wasn't caused by his strength, outstanding achievements on battlefield, demanding nature or nasty character. No, M/N was a total opposite of cocky, narcissistic or mean. He was just-... kind. Too kind.

And as ridiculous as it may sound, everyone who screwed something up, always begged deep inside that their punishment wouldn't be handled by M/N. Even general himself, who mustered up a demanding manner in face of crisis, seemed like much safer option than you and your legendary approach.

Rumor had it that one day, many years ago, when a military traitor was brought back to the camp, cries of suffering had no end. Witnesses mentioned a small, shabby building, set far from a center of base. That's where the man, who betrayed entire army by leading them into a trap and taking their lives, got placed. Bitter soldiers - victims who lost they family, friends, disciples - visited this place numerous times. And although, eventually, traitor survived and lived to see a fair sentence, it all didn't go without bruises.

In order to keep military self-judgment from being too harsh someone had to guard a traitor. Several of youngest recruits were assigned to do this task. One of them was M/N. Many were worried about how this gruesome sights might affect such a young man, with an optimistic approach to life. Who always burst with positive energy and found advantages in every situation, even the worst.

However, all fears died when they saw a face of M/N, crossing the doorstep of a building. Smile adorned his face.

Anxiety was born.

For the record, there was also a moment when more than one person fought for general's heart and favor. And not every candidate was fair in their actions. Even though it was already known behind the scenes that Jiyan and M/N had a thing for each other and that they were forming a relationship, someone was shameless enough to interfere in that.

Intruder's ploys were extremely nasty. Especially when looking at M/N's vulnerability, due to the fact that both partners were still young and not ranked high enough to be able to reveal themselves in front of military authorities.

However, it was hard to tell what was more shocking. Intruder's actions or M/N's reaction.

Because to everything, M/N responded in one only way:

Intruder “accidentally” poured hot soup on M/N?

Smile.

Intruder questioned M/N's abilities and brought up his fails?

Smile.

Intruder claimed that he would be a better partner for Jiyan?

Smile.

Intruder allowed himself for too much in a bar and grabbed Jiyan at the end of his back?

Smile.

And leave intruder with a twisted arm. But, that's a topic for another story.

Whatever happened one thing was certain. No matter how much it annoyed M/N, upset or made him angry, M/N still managed to react with a smile. And that's precisely what was most horrifying about him.

That big, wide smile combined with blank eyes. Sight that gave chills.

Belive me when I tell you that in the whole Midnight Rangers there was no one more scary than M/N. If new generations of soldiers had children in the future, they would definitely scare them with frightening stories about M/N.

Despite the fact that M/N was only one of many coaches in army, it was hard to find a person more respected. Even if this respest was brought by fear… After all, in order to submit, the most rebellious soldiers needed something more than admiration towards the great Jiyan.

Like in the past, todays also, M/N's dark aura was working wonders.

It was truly naive to think that anyone could avoid training with M/N by lies.

Two skinny boys shook with fright as they saw at whom they had just bumped into. Panicked, they were shifting their gaze from one to another.

-Oh boys. Where are you running like that? - you asked with fake confusion - Didn't our training begin just a minute ago?

Your disciples swallowed their saliva with a big difficulty. What were you doing here?! Weren't you supposed to be with the rest?

-Ah right! -you started with excitement, almost as if you had just recalled something- Your teammates reported that you were bedridden sick.

Youngest began to stutter.

-But wait! This isn't a bed, is it?

Boys could barely stand the tension. Whole lives flew before their eyes. And all possible punishments they could receive for insubordination. Starting with bathroom cleaning, month's service as kitchen help, plenty of extra push-ups or worst of all... individual hand-to-hand combat training with M/N himself… not even to mention about reporting to top units.

But instead of hearing a stern reprimand or punishment, M/N blessed them with nothing else than a smile. Beaming, barely natural.

Recruits' knees softened under your murderous, almost insane stare. Controlled by anxiety, they quickly bent in half, heads almost reaching the ground. Hysterical apologies and pleas for mercy reached your ears.

You frowned at this and tilted your head slightly to the side, truly amazed.

-Jiiiyaaan - miserable, you cried out your partner's name and he turned towards you with curiosity.

Without much delaying, you snuggled into your sitting partner's back.

-I think that they don't like me...

You announced with a pouty face and hid your head in the crook of his neck. Jiyan stroked your hair with affection.

-Who do you mean?

-Everyone

You broke down more and squeezed your boyfriend tighter. Frustration in your voice contrasted significantly with Jiyan's deep calmness.

Jiyan bit his lip slightly. He quickly recalled his conversation with Ningwei from the past.

They were sitting in a military bar at the time. Though late hour made all the other soldiers return to their bunks, it was also an ideal opportunity to reveal a few secrets in a honest talk.

Jiyan wasn't first to start topic like that. He didn't feel a need to inform everyone about his relationship status. It was your private business. And if anyone really wanted to know about it, they could figure it out by themselves. In the end, after many years of knowing each other and being in relationship, you two became more and more bold in displaying your feelings for each other. Or rather more reckless… Without even knowing, you started to share scraps of your routine with world outside of your abode. Some began to notice that two of you had something more in common than just a simple friendship. But no one had the courage to say it out loud.

Except for Ningwei. His personality and history with Jiyan allowed him to do more. Besides, he was worried about his captain. And he wasn't the only one. Everyone in crew was concerned, even just by your close "friendship". They were anxious about leaving their beloved general alone with you. Jiyan was such a good person. Always caring for others and putting they well-being above his own. He made sure that soldiers lived in good conditions,. Tried to send them on leave as often as possible. And never failed to extend a helping hand to any victim who lost their home in the fires of battle.

They feared that in his generosity, Jiyan might be naive, forcibly seeking kindness hidden in others. In their blind imagination, they felt as if they were leaving a helpless lamb to be devoured by a big, scary wolf.

-You nad M/N... are you- are you sure about?

Jiyan tilted his head slightly to the side and sent him a questioning look.

-Are you sure that you two are a good match? You know, M/N is-… he is- he's-…. -though it never happened to Ningwei, this time he couldn't get words out of his mouth. He was too afraid of Jiyan's reaction. He didn't know how Jiyan could respond to bad words about a person most important to him. Or rather, Ningwei knew. Tragically. Not in Jiyan's peaceful way.

Ningwei slowly sank down into his chair under Jiyan's gaze. Suddenly, a predatory side of general, usually revealed only in heat of a battle, became more and more real.

-...scary?

He finally finished, without much confidence, and Jiyan only furrowed his eyebrows more. He didn't quite understand what Ningwei meant. Were they really talking about the same loving M/N? This man was smiling even when others did him wrong. When they accidentally tore his jacket or forget about a gift for him.

Jiyan also recalled that one situation in the bar.

When that one soldier…, Jiyan couldn't really remember his name, got a little too close to him.

At first Jiyan didn't think too much of it. But when he felt a touch on his back, in a place meant only for you, he immediately tensed up.

You responded almost instantly. Before Jiyan had a chance to do anything, you were already by his side, grabbing stranger's wrist in an iron grip. You gritted your teeth and sent intruder a deadly glare. Man hurriedly straightened up and took a few steps back. But it was too late. A frantic smile crossed your face.

And although a whole bar had to separate you (including a panicked Jiyan), at the time, general was feeling oddly proud of his caring partner.

-I am sure that they like you very much... Maybe they are just only a little-… - he wanted to add a word “afraid” but eventually he bit his tongue and didn't finish.

He didn't want to make you upset. He himself didn't know if you did it on purpose or unintentionally. Whether it was just your act. Way to gain respect. Desire to make fun of squad. Or perhaps simple innocence in attempt to show kindness by most obvious gesture - smile.

After all, in private of his company you were a completely different person. You treated him like a real treasure. Spoiling him and being the sweetest boyfriend possible.

Jiyan truly couldn't understand what they all were talking about.

#fanfic #fanfiction #scenarios #tmr #x reader #x male reader #x top male reader #male reader #top male reader #wuwa jiyan #wuthering waves #jiyan wuthering waves #wuthering waves x male reader #wuthering waves x reader #jiyan x male reader #jiyan #jiyan x reader #mxm #jiyan x top male reader

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soullessdianthus · 1 year ago

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Could we get some pervy soap or ghost 👀👀

You got me hooked on pervy Konig 🥵

A/N: Your wish has been granted. (≖⌣≖)

Warnings: cocky, playboy MacTavish who is possessive af (he has no shame), nsfw (choking?, ass slapping, exhibitionism, shower sex, masturbation, creampie, rough sex as punishment)

My requests are open for I don’t know how long (as I have a lot of work lately)! ٩(^ᗜ^)و Just please read the disclaimer (pinned post)! Send requests HERE ✉︎

✧°. John was a pretty popular guy in his school years. And he knew he was quite handsome too, so he never really complained about the lack of girl’s attention. Things got a little different when he enrolled in the British military.

✧°. As he reached his twenties, Johnny wasn’t satisfied with teasing all these other recruits in a hall or a canteen. Especially, because it rarely ended with sex, almost never. He was a busy man with loads of obligations around the base. It could be certainly said that he changed a little and grew out of the playboy phase.

✧°. For a while at least.

✧°. But the lack of previously mentioned intimacy almost drove him nuts. Perv!Soap was a simple man, he just needed to blow off some steam, you know?

✧°. Then one lucky day, a group of new recruits came into the training grounds and you certainly got his attention. A pretty thing that smiled to him as you walked by Sergeant MacTavish.

✧°. Johnny felt like his veins were flooding with testosterone again, the mere sight of your curves, made his cock throb. None of the other women soldiers intrigued him so much. it had to be that innocent smile of yours.

✧°. So naturally, Perv!Soap offered you a little tour around the base, while keeping his hand on your lower back. He was just trying to be nice and give you a warm welcome, right? He seemed like a spark of joy!

✧°. He would find himself daydreaming about you, about what position he would put you in or what would he do to pull the sweetest screams out of your tight throat.

✧°. His imagination was wild – you were just sweeping the dust to the tray while kneeling? John already was imagining you on your knees in front of him, begging for his cock, drool dripping from the corners of your mouth.

✧°. Perv!Soap would be a bold type of man, whose intentions were crystal clear. He wanted to mark you as his as soon as possible. MacTavish couldn't bear the thought of other men laying their disgusting hands on you. He had to claim you first.

✧°. The perfect opportunity happened, when you came into the gym for a sparring session. Of course your good friend was there to train with you! Johnny invited you into a ring, before giving some advice.

✧°. Being bigger and stronger than you, Soap made you stumble and fall more times than a fingers hand has. Yet, you kept standing up, willing to continue the sparring session. Perv!Soap enjoyed each minute he had your body within his firm grip, your front or back rubbing against him. It really riled him up.

✧°. So when he had you on the ground, laying atop of him and between his thighs in a tight chokehold, Johnny threw a couple of inappropriate jokes towards his friends who were watching the ring. They laughed and you tried to wiggle away once again.

✧°. “Hope yer gonna keep the spirit, bonnie. I like ‘em feisty.” He whispered into your ear, when your throat was being suffocated with his bicep. You struggled again, letting out a whine and a huff. Such an innocent sound, however it got John’s cock almost hard. You felt it digging into your lower back.

✧°. Perv!Soap would make clear that you already belong to him. If some unfortunate soul dared to look at you in the wrong way, MacTavish would pin them to the wall and threaten them. Or, in a worse case scenario, he would just punch the wretch’s jaw or nose. Hard.

✧°. Furthermore, when crossing him in the hallway, Soap wouldn’t bother with decency. If he had a desire to smack your plump ass, he wouldn’t hesitate. John would smile to himself, if he managed to pull a loud gasp out of you, when his strong palm struck your bum.

✧°. Perv!Soap’s confidence would only boost if he ever made you flustered. Which was often. With previously mentioned slaps or dirty words whispered into your ear.

✧°. “Oh, bonnie. Let me fuck yer pretty tits, eh?”

✧°. “Good lass, learnin’ fast, aren’t we? Got me wonderin’, what else can I teach ya?”

✧°. When it came to drinking outside the base, after a successful mission let’s say, Soap would rather sooner than later pull you into his lap. His thighs were more comfortable than a cheap chair and this way he could watch over you.

✧°. Because he was a good friend and didn’t want anybody to throw a pill into your drink, right? Johnny called it a “scary dog privilege” when you sat at his thighs. But to be honest, for him it was a power move. Everyone else from your group acknowledged how protective Soap was over his girl.

✧°. Perv!Soap would sneak into your shower cabin and shush your loud gasp, before anyone could hear. He placed his big palm against your lower jaw and placed a finger over his lips. You were so cute, when you tried to cover your modesty, even now when both of you were completely naked.

✧°. “Ya gotta help me, bonnie. I’ve got a problem.” John said to you, pointing at his painfully hard cock. Your face turned bright red.

✧°. “Now? Someone might hear us!” You yelled at him, keeping the whispering tone. Slowly your hand that was covering your breasts, loosened up and rested at the side of your body. Fuck it, he already seen enough.

✧°. “Sh, sh, sh. Don’t ya worry, I’ll be quiet, eh?”

✧°. Petrified or willingly, you allowed him to guide your smaller hand over his throbbing length. Soap stood close to you, his chest brushing against your perky nipples as the stream of warm water ran down your curves and his toned muscles.

✧°. Perv!Soap showed you how to stroke him and where to squeeze him. As he predicted you were in fact a fast learner. Quickly you understood how he wanted to receive a handjob and you complied, encouraged by his hand sneaking to the side of your face. The other one was playing with your nipples.

✧°. Sergeant was breathing heavily, huffing into your face just below his. He was getting closer, faster than ever before. You made him this soft, it was your hand that drove him into sweet like honey delirium.

✧°. When he came, his cum spurted onto your palm and some landed on your stomach. Soap moaned, holding onto the shower stall on his left.

✧°. However, the warm and thick liquid was washed away by the trickle of water.

✧°. “That’s a good girl.” Johnny would be so cute and sweet on you, when you did whatever he asked you to.

✧°. But when you misbehaved or even unwittingly flirted with another soldier, Perv!Soap would be rather rough and tough with you, shoving you into the closest, empty storage in the base.

✧°. Johnny would push your face against the wall, tightly gripping your wrists behind your back. He didn’t care when you scowled and whined at him. Soap kicked your feet further apart, before he started to grind against your ass.

✧°. “You belong to me, remember? Only I can fuck your tight cunny, lass.”

✧°. Perv!Soap didn’t care that you mumbled out an apology, he wanted to make a point here – to show you were his little fucktoy.

✧°. So he pushed his way between your puffy folds without any preparations, John knew you would take him anyways. He wasn’t so sweet and gentle about the intercourse, not at all.

✧°. Soap set a fast and rough pace that made each of his powerful thrust borderline painful. Balancing between the soreness and pleasure. One of his hands kept your wrists restrained, while the other hand grabbed a fist full of your hair, forcing you to arch your back for him.

✧°. Your slightly suppressed moans and whines were music to his ears, only encouraging him to keep thrusting into your tight cunt.

✧°. And just before his actions made you and him orgasm, he pulled out of you and nestled his cock between your puffy folds. Ropes of thick cum covered your pussy and instantly began dripping onto your underwear.

✧°. Perv!Soap would pull your panties back up to their place, clinging tightly against your wet sex. Somehow you were conflicted and couldn’t decide if you were disgusted by the feeling of his semen smearing across your labia or were you aroused.

✧°. “Go on, now.” Johnny told you, slapping your clothed ass in a gentler manner.

✧°. “But–”

✧°. “If any bastard would try to sneak their hand into your panties, they’ll know, who this cunny belongs to, yes? I marked it.”

#✧°. marie answears #request #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish #perv!soap

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symphonyofsilence · 1 year ago

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The thing about Mu Qing is that a lot of the time we see him, he doesn't have much but he offers all he has and beyond.

All he had were the few cherries he picked at the cost of being beaten and humiliated and called a thief (as the only poor disciple among many rich kids who could have bought those cherries any time they wanted) to give to his mother and yet when the poor children surrounded him he gave those cherries to them.

He had a cursed shackle and yet he was the only one who offered to accompany Xie Lian, Hua Cheng & and Mei Nianqing to Mt. Tonglu. (even though Jun Wu had told him that his friends would assume that he was a traitor and leave him to die and MNQ & Hua Cheng obviously hated him and he thought that XL & FX hated him, too.) He not only had a cursed shackle but burnt hands and feet and injured legs and yet he threw himself in the lava to fight and buy time for XL. He could barely walk but attacked Jun Wu head-on with his Zhanmaodo. The shackle tightened around his hand and it was draining his blood and his spiritual powers were sealed and his injuries and burns weren't healing and he was dangling from a freaking cliff and his hair had nearly touched the lava and yet! Right when MNQ wanted to help him up he asked him to send him further down so he could retrieve XL's sword for him!!

When XL had just saved Mu Qing and Bai Wuxiang dragged him down Ruoye, which earlier was explained wouldn't do pointless things (and when asked by XL to grab onto something firm and reliable grabbed onto FX & MQ after HC) made a lunge for Mu Qing, because it knew that Mu Qing would grab it and maybe could do something to save Xie Lian. And Mu Qing, having just been saved, balancing on a sword on burnt legs in the middle of running lava grabbed onto Ruoye with burnt hands and didn't let go even when he was overpowered and dragged along with Xie Lian.

And for all of these, he never expects anything in return! No gratitude, no credit, no friendship, and no affection. He just does these things because that's the kind of person he is.

He's the kind of person who refuses to recruit child soldiers, he's the kind of person who sees a random lady going through forced abortion and tries to save her and the baby, he's the kind of person who even when he's chased out of the house by a broom by his friends, leaves the rice he brought with them, he's the kind of person who even if he assumes XL threw the clock on him & pretended not to know him on purpose disguises himself and goes to XL's help, he's the kind of person who tries to save FX even when he has a cursed shackle, he's the kind of person who not only doesn't abandon his friends under Jun Wu's threats but goes after them knowing that at every step Jun Wu will try to frame him and as far as he knows, his friends don't trust him or like him and he doesn't even think they're friends. he's the kind of person who couldn't bring himself to steal one golden leaf from the prince who had hundreds of them in the depths of his poverty to help his mother yet doesn't blame XL for trying to steal that one time because he understands, he's the kind of person who claims that "truly, there's no point in being a good person" but still helps every time everywhere he can. He's the one who when he can't do anything, when he's lost his attacking powers after going for Jun Wu all he can think about is XL who is grabbed by Jun Wu and calls out for XL to run even as he throws up blood. He's the god who when he ascends what we hear of his followers are: "General Xuan Zhen is generous and kind!"

Just...Mu Qing and his unfailing kindness!

#mu qing #tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #hob #my two cents

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mydearlybeloathed · 11 months ago

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𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ²

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥, 𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥...

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: whispers all around the marine ship warn of a new cadet handpicked by the vice admiral himself, making for fine gossip. meanwhile, the strawhat crew wonders why their captain is so frustrated with a storybook.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!luffy x gn!reader, koby x platonic!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: use of Y/N, gender neutral reader, angst, platonic fluff, koby and reader team up of the century

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤: this is me trying

series masterlist

Koby really wanted Helmeppo to shut up, but didn’t have the heart to say it. So he let his new friend rattle on and on whilst they were meant to be getting important work done mopping the deck.

Though Koby did admit, the hushed whispers around the ship of a new cadet were intriguing. And apparently, Helmeppo knew all about the new recruit.

“New?” Helmeppo laughed. “They’re far from new. Been at this for a matter of months and already they’re at the top.”

“How come?” Koby couldn’t help but ask, leaning slightly on his mop. “Experience?”

“Probably,” Helmeppo considered, turning secretive the next moment. “I hear they grew up with Garp, learned all they know from him and their father, who also happens to be a major.”

No wonder there was so much praise for this cadet. “And they’re really that good?”

Helmeppo nodded through a sigh. “So they say. Apparently, they’ve been assigned to this ship by Garp himself. No big surprise there. If this cadet is as fierce as they claim, we’ve got some competition.”

Koby nodded mindlessly, getting back to swabbing the deck, trying his best to focus, but Helmeppo just moved on to the next topic of his interest.

“Hey, do you wonder—” Helmeppo stopped short, catching sight of an approaching figure through the dark shrouding the deck.

Glancing up, Koby saw them too, a puzzled crease forming on his brow. The figure fumbled about the dark, mumbling to themself, two buckets in hand.

Only after nearly tripping over air and stumbling to a stop did they draw out a sigh and assess their surroundings, finding Koby and Helmeppo watching with equally curious expressions.

“Oh, uhm,” they stammered, stepping into the dim lamplight Koby had set to the side. “Hello. I’m, uh, I was sent me to help.” They set down the buckets and stepped back. “Fresh warm water, and uhm, soap.”

Koby reacted quicker than Helmeppo, who watched this stranger carefully. He went to inspect the first bucket, smiling at the sudsy water. Given that Helmeppo had knocked their bucket over and Koby could only save a quarter of the water, this was a godsend. “Thank you. This helps a lot.”

The words went straight to the stranger’s head, a smile breaking out on their face as they turned to take up a spare mop. “No problem. Anything to stay useful. That’s what my dad always says, at least. A useless soldier's a dead soldier, or something like that.”

Whatever reservations Helmeppo had faded at the prospect of another gossip buddy, prompting an eye roll from Koby as he moved to start cleaning the farther end of the deck.

“Are you new?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“Oh, yeah,” the stranger replied. “I just transferred from that marine base we’re docked at.”

Helmeppo immediately stopped mopping and zeroed in on the stranger, like a disarming fledgling hawk to an unbothered mouse. “You would know about Y/N L/N, then. They’re being transferred to this ship too.”

There was a brief silence after the question, only long enough to have Koby cast a curious glance back at them. The stranger stopped mopping too, a thoughtful look crossing their face, before they nodded. “What about Y/N L/N?”

“So you’ve met them?” Helmeppo wondered, cutting the stranger off before they could answer. “I’m curious to see if they live up to their reputation.”

The stranger folded their hands behind their back, face quite expressionless. “Oh… What’s their reputation? From an outside perspective, I mean?”

“Only that they’re responsible for twenty arrests within the span of three months. That’s bullshit, in my opinion. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg.” The stranger’s undivided attention was now given to Helmeppo, and he was living for it. “Apparently, they were trained up by Vice Admiral Garp himself. I hear they’ve even had a drink with Dracule Mihawk. Can you believe that? Honestly, I’m just waiting to meet this cadet and see if they’re as cold hearted as everyone says.”

Now, Koby was smart. He had to be in order to survive. So of course he’d caught on far before Helmeppo, watching the stranger’s grip on their broom tighten and their gaze tighten into a glare.

He rushed up behind the stranger and mimed for Helmeppo to shut up. All Koby got in return was a strange sort of look and complete ignorance. Koby ran a palm over his face.

The stranger was quiet for an everlasting moment, before they dipped their mop into a bucket and continued to do their job. “It was twenty-three.”

Helmeppo tilted his head as if to hear them better. “Sorry?”

Quite having enough of hearing what other people thought of you, you swiftly whirled back to face him with a steeled expression. “I said I took part in twenty-three arrests in three months. I was raised in the same town as Garp, so yes he trained me as a child. I’ve never met Dracule Mihawk and I’ve never had a drink with anyone.”

You jutted out your chin. “And yes, I’d say I am cold hearted when the situation requires it. Like when dealing with a ignorant, gossiping pain in my ass!”

Jaw slack, Helmeppo searched out for Koby’s assistance, only receiving a pointed glare from his friend. You mopped some more and moved to go back over the spot Helmeppo had already done. “Put some more elbow grease into it, yeah? These decks outta be spotless by morn.”

Miraculously, the deck was nothing but tranquil after that. The three of you worked in silence till just as you’d said, the deck was spotless to your satisfaction. Helmeppo retreated back to the barracks immediately, seeking to collect his pride off the floor, leaving you and Koby.

Koby was going to apologize on his friend’s behalf when he found you picking up your bucket and mop and trudging off to the afterdeck. Koby followed after you, telling you, “Oh, we don’t have to clean the afterdeck. That’s next shift’s job.”

You didn’t reply, setting the sloshing bucket down and starting to work. Koby paused. “We should sleep. We’re setting off tomorrow—”

“I’m aware,” you said carefully, without too much malice. “I know we don’t have to. I want to. I’m not tired.”

The bags under your eyes begged to differ. Koby watched you work before he hurried off, and half of you was sorry to be alone again. But then the boy came back with his own mop in hand, causing you to halt and observe as he started to join you.

“What’re you…”

“I’m Koby,” he said, holding out a hand with a scant smile.

Glancing down, you accepted his hand and grinned. “Y/N. But you knew that.”

He grimaced. “Sorry about Helmeppo.”

Shrugging, you said, “Eh, I’m used to it.”

And you set back to mopping the night away, having the occasional laugh with Koby who did the same. Only when there was without a doubt nothing left to clean of the afterdeck, yet you continued to go back over it, did Koby stop and get in your way.

“I can see my reflection in the deck,” he tried to joke. “It’s okay to stop.”

You couldn’t tell him he was wrong. If you stopped, you had time to think. If you had time to think, you’d think of him. If you thought of Luffy, well, you’d be lost to your thoughts for the rest of the night. It was a whole cycle you couldn’t afford to go down. Not as a marine.

Marine’s don’t have time for trivial affairs such as heartache.

But Koby was insistent, snatching your mop away from you and holding you back when you tried to get it back. He held a soft look as you glared daggers into him. “I think I understand.”

You scoffed, giving up and picking up the buckets to put away. You turned your back and headed to find the supply closet. “What exactly do you understand?”

“I... I was on a pirate ship before this,” he told you, causing you to slow enough for him to fall into step beside you. “I was forced to do things I’m not proud of. Sometimes I feel like I’ve got to make up for it.”

You cast him a glance. “I wasn’t a pirate.”

“But you’ve done something you’re not proud of,” he guessed.

Coming to a halt, you bit down on your cheek as Koby turned to face you, confusion laced in his expression. “You don’t know me, Koby. I’m proud of how I got here. That doesn’t make it easier to sleep at night.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I understand.”

He didn’t. He couldn’t. But it was nice he tried, you supposed. “Okay.”

So he helped to put away the mops and dump out the buckets, following you back to the barracks. All the lights were off, leaving limited sight to find your way to your bunk, clambering through the dark as quietly as you could.

Koby was having a harder time, tripping over something and nearly waking the whole room. You shot him a glare and hurried to bed, hiding under the covers. The bed was hardly comfortable, and tossing and turning did nothing to provide any comfort.

Rolling onto your back, you refrained from opening your eyes as long as you could before they pried themselves open, and you came face to face with Monkey D. Luffy. His wanted poster was pinned to the underside of the top bunk, something you had thought was a good idea at the time, but now it offered an unwanted spectator to your sleeplessness.

Still, you didn’t have the heart to take it down, pulling the thin blanket up over your head.

જ⁀➴

Nobody wanted to be the first to approach the captain, not when he was in a mood none of them had ever seen him in. If the crew was honest, it made them nervous.

“Somebody should make sure he’s okay,” said Usopp, looking around the lot of them as if to prompt one of them to step up.

They all leaned upon the railing around the ship’s helm, eyes locked on Luffy. The boy sat cross legged on the deck, a book of all things in his lap. From the crease in his brow, he was growing increasingly frustrated.

“Not it,” Zoro quipped when he caught Nami giving him that look.

She rolled her eyes and pushed off the rail, glaring as she scathed, “Honestly.”

Taking tentative steps, Nami assessed the situation closer, not meaning to provoke whatever was going on in Luffy’s head. The book lay open to the very first page, his face a little too close to the words as he sighed every few seconds. He flipped to the next page, then the next, before gritting his teeth and going back to the first.

Kneeling at his side, she bumped his shoulder as she settled down. “Luffy?”

“Hmm?” He barely looked up from the page, and Nami wondered if he even registered what she’d said.

“You okay?” When she didn’t get a response, she ducked forward to see what he was reading. “The Two Birds?”

Luffy snapped the book shut so fast Nami flinched, the sudden smile on his face a little bit of whiplash. “Sorry, what?”

“Luffy, what’s wrong?” she asked, concerned. “You’ve been glaring at that storybook all day.”

“Nothing,” he waved her off and tried to hide the book behind him. “Is it time to eat?”-

Nami wasn’t letting him get away from this, not when his smile was a little too bright to be real. Luffy had never been like this, and it was worrying her more than she liked to admit. “Luffy.”

Gaze flickering from each of her eyes, Luffy’s smile slowly but surely lost its enthusiasm, lips curling downward. He brought the book back to his lap, holding it ever so gently, skimming his fingertips over the cover. “It belongs to my lover.”

“Wait.” She blinked. “Lover?”

Nodding, Luffy almost smiled. “It’s their favorite book. I used to have more, but my ship sank. This is the only one I could save.”

The melancholy in how he said it gave Nami a sick kind of feeling, a million different ideas of this stranger’s fate coming to mind. She almost didn’t even ask. “What happened to them?”

“We got separated a few months ago,” he said, before giving the book a firm nod, “but I’ll find them again.”

“How do we do that?” Nami asked instantly, drawing another half smile out of Luffy as he raised his eyes to meet hers.

“Well,” Luffy laughed breathily, “it’s a bit complicated. They’re with the marines.”

They weren’t dead, which was good, Nami supposed. But this? This wasn’t what she’d expected. “Your lover is a marine?”

“Unfortunately. I couldn’t save them. But they’re strong.” His grin wavered. He thought of that sinking feeling when you remained on land, staring after him with this look he couldn't get out of his head. You'd looked like this was what you planned; him escaping, and you staying. It had been noble of you, he supposed, and he could never hate you for it.

Luffy swallowed thickly and his eyes went all misty. “They’re the strongest, kindest, truest person I know. I’ll find them, and I’ll return their book.”

Nami still couldn’t figure it out. “If they’re so good, why’re you burning a hole into their book?”

“Oh.” Luffy’s cheeks warmed at the question. “Uhm, I was trying to read it but… I got stuck. They usually read it to me.”

She should have left it at that. Really, Nami should have patted him on the back and offered to get a pre-dinner snack to cheer him up. But for some reason, Nami found herself looking at the storybook and hesitantly saying, “Can I?”

“Really?” The shine in Luffy’s eyes nearly made it worth it.

Nami sighed and forced a smile. Only, she didn’t have to force it too much; Luffy’s quickly brightening expression warmed her from the inside out. “Sure. Hand it over.”

She’d barely laid a hand on the book when Luffy whipped his head around and shouted across the deck, “Guys! Nami’s reading a story!”

“Luffy…” she groaned, pursing her lips as Usopp jumped down the stairs, swiftly followed by Sanji and a more reluctant Zoro.

Luffy raised a brow. “What?”

Letting out a huff, Nami simply flipped open the book. Usopp plopped down beside her, leaning in to see what book it was.

“A story?” Zoro asked, ever unamused. Nami shut him up with one glare.

“I personally am happy to hear Nami’s lovely voice,” Sanji piped in with a wink.

Nami gave the chef a deadpan, her head tilted. “Thanks.”

“C’mon,” Usopp urged her. “Let's see if it beats the tales of Great Captain Usopp.”

“All right, all right,” she laughed, turning to the very first page and starting to read off the story to them.

Every once in a while Luffy would start frowning again, eyes unfocused, the words Nami read piercing his heart. It never lasted too long though, some commentary from Usopp dragging a snicker out of him. And when the story came to a close, Luffy offered his crew a grin.

“Y/N would like you guys,” he said, raising some confusion among the men around him.

Nami tried to smile and, half to explain and half to reassure, said, “We’ll get your lover back, at some point.”

Maybe three seconds went by before all heads jolted in Luffy’s direction.

“Lover?!”

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