#the horrible colonel

[kiankiwi]

Baby Steps Beginning

Kiwi:

After reading over the asks from the baby steps AU, I came up with this writing piece since I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, and I thought you might like to see it. I will warn you, there is a lot of angst in this, so I’d recommend you be careful.

****

Elvis was scared out of his mind.

The little boy had suddenly been forced into the Colonel’s car (not even giving him a chance to get a seatbelt on), and now the two of them were driving haphazardly through dark streets that he didn’t recognize.

It was all his fault, he thought. As usual. He knew he should’ve gotten up and gone to the potty, but he also knew he wasn’t allowed out of his crib after the Colonel put him in there, and it had been hours…it had felt so good to let go after not being allowed to have his diapers for so long.

When the Colonel had finally come home that night and found Elvis had soiled his underpants yet again, he’d flown into a rage, striking him several times and berating him harshly. Then he’d grabbed the little’s wrist and forced him into the car, still cursing at him in a foreign language. Elvis had only had time to grab Mr. Bunny (not that it mattered much, he was the only toy he’d been allowed to have) and was now desperately trying to stifle his cries in the hopes he wouldn’t be hurt more.

Suddenly, the car stopped, almost knocking Elvis out of his seat. They were in front of a large building whose colorful sign read “The Shepherd Academy—Foster Center for Littles”. 

The Colonel stepped out of the car, moving to the side door to open it. In a last-ditch hope of appeasing his “caregiver”, Elvis reached out his arms and whimpered to be picked up. Instead, the Colonel let out a snarl, grabbing Elvis’s wrist and forcing him to walk inside the center.

“You’re someone else’s problem now, my boy. But I doubt even they’d be willing to deal with such a disgusting little creature as you are.” 

With that, the Colonel left the center, got into his car and drove away.

At hearing all the commotion, Wanda, one of the more experienced workers, rushed out to see what was going on, and was shocked at what she saw.

It was a little.

But something definitely wasn’t right.

The little black-haired boy was skinny, sucking his thumb and clutching a stuffed rabbit, and was only wearing a dirty-looking pair of overalls and a shirt; it was freezing cold tonight. He wasn’t even wearing shoes; his little feet must’ve been freezing. And judging by the dark stains on his crotch, he’d clearly had a big accident.

But what scared Wanda the most was that he was standing, and wobbling in place. He looked so frightened.

She’d seen many types of littles, enough so to recognize a little in baby space when she saw one. Babies crawled, not walked. So he shouldn’t be upright right now.

Carefully, trying not to scare him, Wanda began to approach the little boy, her warm dark brown eyes brimming with worry as she moved her long black hair back behind her ears, before she spoke.

“Sweetie? How’d you get here? Are you okay?”

He didn’t respond, just looking around in a confused way. So she tried again.

“Honey? Where’s your caregiver?”

That seemed to get his attention; his eyes began to brim with tears. “He…gone.” The boy whimpered, before suddenly falling to the ground and starting to cry as his legs gave out from under him. Immediately, Wanda jumped into comfort mode, running to embrace the tiny boy as she cuddled him.

“Shh, shh shh shh. It’s okay, honey. Everything’s gonna be all right. We’re here to help you. Shh, it’s okay. Auntie Wanda’s got you. You’re safe now.”

Elvis cried for a while, keeping his head buried in Wanda’s shoulder as she gave the other workers directions, asking one to get Helen and Trixie (the two nurses on staff that night) in order to examine him, as well as another to get a bath, a bottle, and some new clothes ready for him. 

Once the little boy had calmed down a bit, and she’d managed to get him to tell her his name, Wanda gently lifted him into her arms. “Okay, sweetie, we’re gonna take you back into the cleansing station now. Do you know what that is?”

Elvis just shook his head.

“It’s somewhere where we can get you cleaned up and looked at. There’s two good friends of mine back there who are gonna look you over and make sure you’re not sick, and then maybe we can get you some food. Don’t worry, Auntie Wanda’s gonna be there with you the whole time, okay?”

Elvis nodded, but still clung to her and his rabbit as she carried him into the cleansing station, before sitting down with him in her lap; she didn’t trust herself to let go of him yet even though her uniform was getting wet from his accident.

Trixie, a young woman with blonde hair and brown eyes, gently approached the two, explaining to Elvis who she was and that she and Helen were just going to look him over and make sure he wasn’t getting sick, promising not to hurt him. She and Helen kept up a gentle pattern of small talk as Helen examined him and Trixie took his temperature (he whined a little as the scanning thermometer was put in his ear, but Wanda managed to soothe him and get him to stay still). 

Helen sighed as she looked at Trixie and Wanda, explaining what she saw as Wanda fed Elvis a large bottle of milk. 

“He’s severely dehydrated; I can tell from the way he’s gulping down that bottle. There are bruises on his shoulder and neck; I think somebody has shaken him. He has a mild fever, and there’s a cigarette burn on his right foot. I can’t know more until we take his clothes off, so let’s get him in the bath once he’s done drinking his bottle and figure out what’s going on here.”

Wanda rubbed Elvis’s back as he finished his milk. “How could someone do this to you, baby?” She asked quietly, not expecting an answer as she patted his back to burp him.

With that, Wanda lifted Elvis onto the room’s changing table and removed his torn overalls and shirt, before gasping at what she saw.

He was only wearing a wet and soiled pair of white men’s briefs. Not a diaper, which she knew all littles needed when they were small. Carefully, she removed his soiled underwear and tossed it away before Helen and Trixie began to examine the rest of his body as she started to wipe him clean.

There were bruises, red marks and scratches all over his little body; the worst of them seemed to be on his back and bottom. Helen observed they may have been caused by a belt strap or buckle, and a couple looked like they were caused by the toe of an adult shoe. Not only that, but he had a nasty looking diaper rash, as if he hadn’t been cleaned up or changed in days. Ultimately, Wanda decided to have them take some pictures of his injuries in case they needed to go to the police with this. Little abuse was extremely rare around this area.

As they were doing this, Trixie gently rubbed his belly and stroked his black hair to try and comfort the little one. “It looks like you’ve got some nasty boo-boos there, honey. What happened?” She asked quietly, trying not to startle him.

“Was bad.” Or “Went potty.” Was all Elvis would say when she asked him about various injuries before hiding his face in Mr. Bunny. She figured it was best if she didn’t press him further for now.

As she cleaned Elvis up and began to put diaper cream on his rash, Wanda was boiling inside (as were the two other women); who in their right mind punished a little for having accidents? It was no secret that littles couldn’t control themselves, wasn’t it?

As Wanda began applying the diaper cream to his bottom, the coldness of it startled Elvis and he involuntarily let out a small stream of pee onto the changing table. Wanda was a little surprised, but it was no big deal to her; messes were just part of taking care of littles, and she’d had plenty of bodily fluids get on her over the years. 

However, what she saw next broke her heart.

Elvis began to shake and cry, covering his face with his hands and apologizing repeatedly; he was shrinking away from them as if he was expecting to be hit for doing what his body did naturally. 

Wanda immediately reached up to rub his leg and his belly, reassuring him she wasn’t angry and that accidents happened all the time. Trixie nodded, saying she was right; littles couldn’t always control themselves and no one was mad at him for what happened. 

He seemed a little confused by their reaction, as well as the fact Wanda just continued putting the diaper cream on afterwards; after all, he normally got in trouble for having accidents with the Colonel.

Trixie just smiled at him. “Would you like a nice warm bath, sweetie? Have a nice soak in the warm water? We’ll make sure you’ve got some bubbles and bath toys to play with too.”

Elvis seemed to brighten up a little at that, nodding as he sat up on the table.

“But we’ll need to take your little friend here for a bit. He can’t go in the bath with you.”

At hearing this, Elvis’s face fell. Take Mr. Bunny? But he was all he had! No way was anyone taking him away from him! “No, no, no!” He shouted, looking like he was about to throw a fit as he held onto Mr. Bunny for dear life close to his face.

Wanda, sensing an impending meltdown, quickly stepped in. “Shh, sweetie. She doesn’t mean to take him away from you. It’s just that…well, stuffed animals are allergic to tub water. It makes their fur dry funny, and it could hurt them. Does your rabbit have a name?”

Elvis sniffled. “M—Mr. Bunny.”

Wanda nodded. “Hm, pretty. Well, it seems like you love Mr. Bunny very much. And I know you don’t want to risk him getting hurt by going in the water, right?”

Elvis seemed conflicted. Of course he didn’t want Mr. Bunny to get hurt! But…if he let go of him and couldn’t see him, he might lose him…what was he supposed to do?

Trixie spoke up again. “I know. Why don’t we put Mr. Bunny on the table over there? That way, you and him can still see each other but he won’t be in danger of getting wet. And we’ll make sure nobody takes him from you. You can have him back as soon as you’re dry and in your pajamas. Does that sound okay to you, sweetheart?”

Elvis bit his lip, thinking it over. In his little mind, it made sense. At least he knew that Wanda and the others wouldn’t let Mr. Bunny be taken away or get hurt. After a minute, he nodded and handed Mr. Bunny over to Trixie, who carefully took the little rabbit over to the table and sat him up so he could still see his rightful owner with his one button eye.

Thank God. At least the little one seemed to be relaxing for now. The workers just hoped they could start to undo the damage the Colonel had caused.

[yonderghostshistories]

me @ my intrusive thoughts :

[v4mp1res3verywhere]

Hardass dilf with sharp feline features Archetype >>>

[countesspetofi]

"Rage Against the Vaccine" (FUTURAMA S11E07) had a parade of fairly obscure recurring characters. I love that nothing and nobody on this show is ever forgotten.

Father Changstein El-Gamal!

Dr. Banjo!

Jrrr!

Horrible Gelatinous Blob! (The lady in purple looks familiar, too. At first I thought she was Colleen from "The Beast with a Billion Backs," but I'm not 100% sure.)

The Spice Weasel!

Umbriel and the Colonel, the merfolk of Atlanta!

And sweet llamas of the Bahamas, it's Barbados Slim!

I don't know if Scoop Chang and Judge Whitey really count as obscure anymore, but their appearances are infrequent enough to make me happy whenever they crop up.

And I really hope Bonebot won't be a one-and-done character. If The Borax Kid cane come back three times, surely there's room for more groanworthy skeletal puns.

[wales-windsor]

The Princess of Wales participated in a training exercise with the 1st Battalion Irish Guards as Colonel on March 8, 2023 x

[1863-project]

(video and tweet source)

THE HANSHIN TIGERS HAVE BROKEN THE CURSE OF THE COLONEL!

For the people who don't know, in 1985, the Hanshin Tigers won their first (and at the time, only) Japan Series victory. Traditionally, they've been hard luck losers, and they're often compared to the Red Sox in the sense of their being overshadowed by the Yomiuri Giants, who, like the Yankees, have won more championships than any other team in their league.

When they won, fans resembling the players on the team were jumping into the Dotonbori Canal in Osaka - the fans would yell out a player's name, and a fan who looked like them would jump in. The problem was when they got to Randy Bass, who none of the Japanese fans looked like. They needed to find something resembling him and selected a statue of Colonel Sanders, who was white and had a beard like Bass, and threw it into the canal.

Colonel Sanders sank underwater, and the Hanshin Tigers did...horribly after that, usually coming in last in the league or close to it, to the point where the team was considered cursed by his presence in the canal. The team made the Japan Series a few times after that in the 2000s and once in the 2010s, but lost each time.

In 2009, the Colonel was located and recovered from the Dotonbori Canal, save for his left hand and his glasses. He's now at a location near Koshien Stadium, where the Tigers play their home games (and where the famed national high school baseball championships are played), and can be viewed there to this day.

Fans were, however, not convinced that they had earned the Colonel's forgiveness, since his hand and glasses were missing. In the image above, he's been given some replacement glasses, but he still lacks a left hand.

This year, Hanshin beat the Orix Buffaloes, a team that plays roughly 20 minutes away by train in Nishinomiya, 4-3 in a seven-game series. The curse is thus considered broken...so the fans did what they do best, and threw a fan dressed like Colonel Sanders into the Dotonbori Canal.

For years, this has been my favorite baseball story, and I'm so happy that I was alive to see it seen all the way through. Congratulations, Hanshin fans!

[kooldewd123]

there's something to be said about the choice to use "prince" as the main signifier of military rank for the andalites. because it kinda obscures the truth of the situation, doesn't it? a group of kids getting magic powers from an alien prince sounds whimsical and delightful. a group of kids getting pulled into a war by an alien colonel sounds tragic and horrible. the slow reveal of what "prince" actually means over the course of the early books is perhaps the most underrated twist of the entire series, because it fundamentally recontextualizes the entire premise of the series without the reader even consciously realizing it.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Can you do big, soft, boob bunny!Reader x Monster!König please??? 🧡🐰🐙🧡

monster!Konig, who is very needy with his mate - a soft, squishy, so adorably chubby big-chested bunny. Definition of the word soft, such a pretty little thing that sometimes he can't believe he is actually able to touch something like you - something so real and so cute looking at the same time, you feel like a cloud whenever he touches you. God, he is whipped - but would never let anyone see that, not unless he wants to put a target on your forehead or on your pretty squishy tits. He smothers you with affection whenever you're alone - latching onto your tits, desperate to either force his dick between the soft cushions or milk your nipples until they are red and swollen. He adores you and your body, always squeezing and touching - a rough hand tugging on your tail, a stray tentacle squeezing your ear until you cry and beg him to stop. You're fucking adorable, and he can't help but want to eat you up. Force some more of his eggs inside your pretty belly and maybe finally breed you enough so you'd be his milking bunny for the nearest months. The first time he eased his cock between your breasts, you were almost panicking - he would squeeze too much, only use a splash of lube to make it a tiny bit slippery. His cock kisses your lips every time he slips in, and you can barely do anything besides whimper as he forces it over and over until he comes all over your breasts, marking you as his. You got used to him after a while - got used to having his sloppy tentacles writhe all over you, to have him degrade you in public and then whisper sweet little compliments when he would fuck his eggs inside your womb. Being mate of a colonel isn't easy, but you manage. He gets you a special little uniform - something loose and fitting, so your breasts won't get too squished in tight jackets and horrible vests - and would lead you with him on a leash. Mostly for your sake than his - you have this dumb tendency to jump and run whenever there is even a slightest possibility of danger, and he can't have his pretty bunny running around the base like she doesn't have a husband to watch over her.

[sweetiecutie]

GIRL WAIT WAIT WAIT-

"König is very envious. He envies people with higher position, people with better skills (even though these are rare ones)" what about a fem reader, who is exactly this?

Higher position, and better than him somehow??? For the event, please! What about some hatred sex, enemies to lovers maybe. He is attracted but drowning in envy.

Pairing: König x fem! sniper! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, König being a lil bitch

A/n: did I write this thing in 20 mins? Hell yes I did. Also, sorry it’s not exactly how you requested it, but well, I write whatever I want I guess. Referring to this post

Your Colonel hates you.

König hates you with blazing fierce, even despite the fact that it was him who hand picked you into his team, him who trained you hours to no end to make you into a perfect sniper. He loathes your mere existence, gritting his teeth at the sound of your voice greeting him every morning, your bright smile addressed at him.

At your young age of 23 you completed 26 missions as a sniper, every single one of them successful. You were a natural, truly. Your smaller size and flexibility were perfect for position of a sniper, making it way easier for you to hide, able to move from one spot to another without being noticed by enemy. And König loathed it. Why the fuck were you living his dream? Just because you were born smaller? Such an injustice.

And he trained you even harder; until your right shoulder was all bruised from the kickback of a rifle, until your eyes were sharper than eagle’s, until you instinctively felt where to shoot, considering weather conditions, to aim perfectly. König shaped your skills with great precision and sternness, making a shiny diamond out of rough rock.

And sometimes König hated himself for treating you so unjustly. It wasn’t your fault that you were small, nor was it his fault that he was so huge. You were always so sweet and polite, never once talking back, no matter how harsh his words and actions were. You always treated König with respect that was borderline childish awe, taking in his every word, complying with his every demand. And he adored you for that.

Adoration on a verge on hatred - how unhealthy. You seemed to be perfect - too perfect, and König wanted to break you down, to make you look horrible, to open you up and take a look at all the disgusting things that you were hiding within so skillfully. Everyone had a bad side, right?

And that’s why he called you into his office, bending you over his desk, fucking his huge throbbing cock into your welcoming heat. Velvety walls clamped down onto his hard length desperately as you fought back all the pretty moans that threatened to fall from your lips. You way smaller body plunged forward slightly with each of König’s ferocious thrusts, your plump ass rippling at the impact of his hips against it, back arching oh so beautifully. And that’s when König finally realized.

It was him who was the fucked up one.

All this time, König believed it was your fault - that you stole his dream, taunted him with your excellent skills, teased him for failing his career as a sniper. And that moment he realized that you were the sweetest creature out there, basically worshipping your harsh and mean Colonel who treated you so harshly, who expanded your mind and abilities even further.

And König was just a pathetic envious piece of shit.

His movements halted as he watched from behind your ribs move as you breathed rapidly; he couldn’t see your face, but he noted that your ears were a few shades redder; your small hands were clinging to the shiny surface of his desk, trying to find some grounding with little success. König crouched over, resting his forehead on the table next to your head, his nose buried into the dip between your neck and shoulder, inhaling lungfuls of your sweet scent through dense fabric of his balaclava.

One of your trembling hands came to cup side of his head, rubbing it soothingly - your movements were a bit awkward due to your positioning, but sweet nevertheless. How could you be like this? Despite all harsh treatment you received before, mean words and actions, you still were so sweet with him.

- I’m sorry, - König murmured quietly, placing a kiss on your shoulder. His mouth was still covered by black balaclava, but you understood what he meant to do. - I’m so sorry.

- It’s okay, - you uttered, you voice shaky and small, arousal muddling up your thoughts.

You wriggled your hips impatiently, prompting your Colonel to move. And he complied, wringing one mind blowing orgasm out of you after another, throwing you around the table however he pleased, trying to make amends for all of his bitching to you.

Surely, it was not enough to pay you off for his horrible behavior, but König try his hardest to make it up to his sweet little sniper<3

[stylespresleyhearted]

THE MAJOR’S WIFE

warnings: mentions of miscarriage, adultery, nsfw, marital problems, oral (m! receiving), spanking, being turned on even when your brain isn’t in it, bucky in 1x04, bucky married pre-war, slight age gap bc reader can come off slightly immature (i think?) angst, historical inaccuracies, new mediocre writer be nice

summary: John Egan gets to know his wife again

word count: 9.7k

notes: i’m not sure where this came from i wrote it all today and got no part of my research paper done. there’s really no point to it and also irl john egan was actually really close to his mother so i emphasized that here. he wrote to her so much. no disrespect to any of the real people, this is based on the show/show timeline as well.

Lila gets the call on the 2nd of October and her dreams come true.

Not entirely, no. The real dream would be having him home safe and the tragic war being over but she knows how fortunate she is to have the next best thing happen. Her husband’s been granted a few days leave and Colonel Harding believed it would do Major Egan some good to have his sweet, young wife join him during those days overseas. For the good of John’s mental health the Colonel or the President - or whoever was in charge, Lila really had no idea - had agreed to pay for her ticket and their hotel. There was only one thing they asked for in return and although it wasn’t explicitly said, Lila caught their drift: sort your husband out.

Lila knows it would do her no good to sit and wonder how horribly John must be doing in order for them to declare an all expenses paid trip for his spouse. All she does is worry for him anyhow so she forces herself to focus on the one good thing of the entire ordeal - she’s going to see her man.

There’d been letters, although not as many as she liked and she tried not to let it show how it hurt as every other wife received more than one letter at a time. Her John wasn’t the sort, she knew that when she married him. He was the kind of person who needed endless skies and land to maintain his sense of stability. Having him cooped up would do him no good and she partly wondered how much of what he was struggling with was the trauma he witnessed in the air and how much of it was feeling caged on base. At least his plane, good ol’ Mugwump (he wrote about her quite often) offered him the opportunity to head anywhere he wanted.

The only person he wrote consistently and readily to was his mother. It was rare if a week went by and she received no letter. During these instances it was more times than not an issue with the postal service.

Be that as it may, Lila knew who she married and it made her love him no less so she tried not to let it get to her. His mother was a saint. Firm and strong and loving all the same. Lila would have never survived sending John off if his mother wasn’t who and how she was. She held Lila at night when her cries woke her and she let Lila sleep in his old childhood bed. She kept food on their table and ensured everyone got their work done through the worry.

When John first left and Lila was sick to her stomach and vomiting multiple times of the day it was his mother who consoled her through the night when her sheets turned a crimson red and any ideals of having their baby through the war was lost.

Frances Egan was the glue holding them together. All of them, even her son who was an entire ocean way - so no. Lila would not be angry that she was John’s preferred pen-pal.

“You fix him right up,” Mama Egan had said in lieu of goodbye when leaving her at the airport, “you give him the loving he needs as his wife and the smacks he needs from me to get on the straight and narrow before sending him off to continue saving the world. You do it for him, not for any of them war bastards. You hear me?”

All Lila could do was nod. Dropping her bags on the floor and clutching her pseudo mother tightly. She was excited as she was frightened.

They had only gotten two months together before he had been pulled away. She didn’t want to complain, loads of women had gotten less time at all while others had only ever been left with the promise.

But her two months as Mrs. Egan? They’d been a dream. Her man was a romancer. He hadn’t hesitated in introducing her as the newly (and younger) Mrs. Egan, always resulting in an arm slap from his mother, he held open doors and he never stopped courting her; however she thinks the best times were when he was teaching her how to act married.

In their bed, at a home he had spent a year building for them. Using any extra pennies he had to pay off younger boys to help him hurry it along. Giving her the wrap-around porch she had always envisioned.

He showed her how to kiss. How to undress him. He had laid her underneath him, using his large frame to cover her completely, protecting her from the cold as he threw the sheets off them and making her feel tiny compared to him. She had never felt safer.

It had hurt the first time but he had held her through it. Never allowing any inches of space between their bodies; as if telling her they were in it together. She’d always known he was large, everything about him was large in general, but she never thought how much it would hurt to have all of him fit inside her. Lila hadn't wanted to disappoint him so she tried to muffle her tears and whimpers but he had swallowed her cries and gone slow, soft.

“If this is it, it’ll be enough,” he had promised, only about half way inside her and wiping away her tears with his thumbs. As a thank you she had taken that calloused thumb into her mouth and sucked. He allowed her; hiding his face in her neck and pressing wet kisses along there.

And for the first few times that had been it. She couldn’t take all of him and his thrusts couldn’t get too deep so he would only slip inside until her tight hole resisted and pulsed and he’d hump against that spot until reaching his pleasure.

“Do other girls take all of it?” She had asked a couple days later, trying to wrap her head around it.

She was no idiot. John Egan was no virgin.

“Yes.” Lila could always count on him to be honest. At least there was that. Meanwhile she couldn’t even fully pleasure him. She was failing as a wife. “Hey,” he lay facing her and she lay on her back. He tapped her cheek until she turned her face. “You’re my wife. That’s what makes this feel better.”

And she had beamed at his reassurance even though she didn’t feel much better. She knew John would never push her, and he couldn’t stand to see her cry, so if she ever wanted to learn to be a good wife she would have to take it upon herself.

So that’s what she did.

He was always on top and she was always on her back. That’s the first thing she had to change. From her understanding of it, from her talks with friends that always ended in giggles and blushing cheeks and from what she learned from John, it could be done in many different ways.

“I prefer to be in charge,” her school friend, Linda, had admitted to her. “Not like that -” she clarified, cheeks pink, “Just - if I’m gonna take it, I’d rather do it at my pace. Be on top. Some husbands are good like that. They’ll allow it.”

And knowing her husband wasn’t just good, he was great, she knew he would hold no qualms about it. The next time they lay in bed kissing it was easy to turn him over and straddle him. Move her wetness against his belly to let him know there was still more she just needed him to accept it.

Except he thought she was asking him to do it so he flipped her on her back again. And without breaking their kiss, she turned him over again.

It was more like they were wrestling.

Lila pulls away from his mouth, reluctantly, noticing his lips were wet and red and swollen and wondering if hers were much the same. They had been kissing for so long her mouth felt raw.

She loved it.

Straddling him, she reached behind her, feeling him standing straight and hard against her backside in between her cheeks. Sticky.

He gasped, bucking into her fist with a loud, guttural groan. It was so manly she rocked against his stomach again in need.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunted, “what’re you doing?”

“I want to try it like this,” she breathed, leaning over to whisper in his mouth, her tiny hand still wrapped around him and lining her up to her hole. “I want it all.” Lila clarified.

And John allowed it, like she knew he would. Let her take control and go at her pace. Let her swivel her hips on the way down to help with the tightness of being stretched so wide and thick.

Nothing but curses and promises of love leaving his lips. Gasping mine, mine, mine and my perfect fucking wife and I’m gonna fuck you forever.

He felt large inside of her, like if she was being split in two but it felt so good as the tip of him repeatedly hit a spongy part inside that had her coming with no contact to her clit for the first time.

She was beautiful, red splotches appearing on her body from the heat of their love-making, her hair tangled in his fists, her mouth falling open as she threw her head back - all of it was too much. He was flipping her over and pounding into her trying to chase his peak and a second one from her, their headboard banging against the wall in rhythm with his thrusts.

Things changed from then on. Sexually, that is. Becoming aware of how badly she needed to feel like she was pleasing him, John was not above using it against her. Like letting him lick at her.

“Good wives allow their husbands everything,” he would say, lips wide in a smile and eyes bright at the prospect of getting his way but Lila always knew the choice was really hers. He would respect what she wanted.

He was just too damn addicting. She couldn’t stand to tell him no.

His favorite times were when she allowed him to sit her over his face and let him feast. It drowned the outside world for him and he kept at it even after she had reached multiple orgasms and was pulling on his hair and the only thing keeping her up was his forearms locking around her thighs.

Her favorite was when he allowed her to taste him at the same time he was licking her. It was a tie between those times and when he held her down until all of him was in her mouth and she was spluttering, choking, gagging. Knowing she made a filthy vision and he adored it did something to her.

Now she was in London, closer to him than she had been in years, and all their intimacies were within reach. She could almost taste him, feel him petting back her hair and settling a hand at the low of her back. She still remembers the smell of his after shave and sweat, how he’d come into the kitchen asking for some of her homemade lemonade to help with the heat.

Jack Kidd was tasked with picking up Mrs. Egan from the airport and having her arrive at base with him. She remembers meeting him a couple of times before John shipped out early. Originally she was meant to wait for John at their hotel but there had been an issue when planning her flight and she arrived sooner than intended.

“Ma’am,” he greeted, placing a friendly kiss on her cheeks and taking her bags from her. “Bucky’s gonna be happy as hell to see your face.”

The tone in his voice - relief? alleviation? - had some of her happy wife's facade crumbling. How badly was her Johnny hurting that everyone was looking at her at his only chance to remain sane or alive?

Stop it. Maybe everyone’s just aware Johnny misses you. You’re his wife.

“Not as happy as me, I wager,” she returned with a smile. “I’m glad to see you’re doing okay, Jack. Glad to see you still kicking.”

His shrug didn’t soothe her worry but she saw him try to mask it with a smile.

“All we boys can do is pray.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, gathering his attention. “You boys have got the prayers of our entire country protecting you.”

Jack simply nodded in response.

For the most part the ride to base was quiet. Her bags would be kept in the trunk until her and John were ready to drive out to London in a couple of hours and until then, she’d be his surprise at the officer’s club. Silver Wings, Jack called it. Where all the boys gathered and had drinks and celebrated accomplishments. And where some chose to mourn, too.

Her stomach was turning as she neared the hut, following Jack’s footsteps. There was so much that could go wrong and although this was meant to be a surprise, the U.S Army showing their gratitude towards a brave Major, she suddenly wished she would have called John and told him. She wished he knew so that she wouldn’t have to walk in feeling alone and unwanted.

Not that Lila thought John would turn her away, she simply wanted to have him hold her hand as she walked through the threshold.

“Stick close by,” Jack murmured, being respectful of where he touched her before deciding to lead her by her shoulder. “It gets crowded but I’ll take ya to him.”

As she walked through different groups, she felt the offending eyes of men and women alike. Wondering who she was. With a pang in her heart she realized she had met John’s squadrons before but all these crews were new. The boys she met, most of them at least from what she could tell, hadn’t made it. John never wrote about who passed away (except to inform her of Curt) ; most of their letters were him expressing his love and how he missed her so and asking what she got up to.

Having walked around the roundabout bar in the center of the room, her stomach in knots and fingers tangled in front of her - she caught sight of her husband smack middle in the dance floor. Pressed against a beautiful brunette.

Lila caught sight of him before even Jack did. That’s how connected she was to her husband. Jack whistled from beside her to gain Gale’s attention who was resting against the bar holding his signature ginger ale, also watching John Egan chat up the woman he was swaying with with something like disapproval in his eyes.

His large hands were occupying most of the space of her waist, keeping her body tethered to his as she laughed.

“Lila,” he gasped, eyes wide. He was smart enough to not turn and look at his buddy. To act as if nothing was amiss and she expected nothing less from Gale Cleven, “damn it all to hell. You’re a sight for sore eyes, Mrs. Egan.”

Because he was close to John, he didn’t hesitate in wrapping her up in a tight hug and pressing a kiss to her tinted cheeks. He knew John wouldn’t mind.

When he pulled back she patted his chubby cheek in return, “You still shame the rest of us with your good looks, Gale,” she laughed. “I’ll let Marge know when I see her next.”

Lila also knew she would share with Marge that while Gale was being loyal, standing off to the side her husband was exchanging oxygen with a woman on the dance floor.

His cheeks tinted at the mention of his girl. Buck and Bucky were both aware Lila and Marge wrote to one another and visited each other whenever time made it possible.

“Colonel Harding said Major Egan was in need of something from home,” she said, studying his reaction to see what she could read but Gale had always been aloof, cold. He wasn’t close to her like he was with Marge and John.

Gale thought back to a few moments earlier when John had disrespected their Colonel and all his actions before that too - disrespecting superiors, drinking more consistently, becoming angry - hopelessness in his eyes.

“He’s in need of you Lila,” Gale clarified and it wasn’t lost on either one of them that he they were referring to was currently on the floor wooing another woman.

“Holy shit! It’s Mrs. Egan!” Hambone animatedly announced and suddenly it felt like the eyes of everyone in there were on her. Her cheeks tinted pink, never having been one for the spotlight like her husband.

She was greeted with welcoming cheers and hugs.

John, for his part, disentangled from the woman he was holding at the mention of his missus. He was sober enough to appear sheepish and guilty, but in the next second it was gone as he stalked towards her. Determined. Quick. His smile growing the more he neared like he was becoming more aware she was really there and it wasn’t a fucked up scenario in his head.

“God, Lila,” she managed to hear him say before she was elevated in the air, his arms tight around her waist and lifting her high so they were at face level and he could kiss her. Channeling his love and exuberance and aggression into kissing his wife. “It’s you, it’s you, it’s really you,” he was saying in between smooches, “I missed you. So fucking much, doll.”

Basking in his love she didn’t feel the need to mention the woman that was so kindly keeping him preoccupied before she entered.

She couldn’t help the first tear from falling or the rest from following. It was like the tightness in her chest unlocked as she finally got to hold him and feel his heat surround her. He still smelled of after shave and the same hair gel that was kept in their bathroom at home but he tasted strongly of whiskey and cigarettes and strawberry lipstick.

John tucked his face into her neck, setting her down and bending to her level. Sniffling in there as he continued to hold her.

“None of that,” she did her best to stop her voice from wobbling or breaking, “we’re together. That’s all that matters.” She drew his face out from where he had hidden to pepper him with a few more kisses.

None of it was enough.

The rest of the guys were kind enough to return to the dance floor and act like they couldn’t see them.

“Who? What - why? How?” He was obviously having trouble forming coherent thoughts in between the kisses he continued stealing from her.

She was crying and laughing and trying to return all his touches. It was a terribly difficult ordeal but she had never been happier.

“Colonel Harding called and said you had a weekend leave. He said he talked to some of the higher ups but they couldn’t allow you a leave home so this was the next best thing,” she explained, cupping his cheek as she rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone. He had minor scars that weren’t there before.

She wanted to kiss every single one of them.

He was still bent towards her height, taking her in as she was taking him in.

She forgot how blue his eyes were.

He was whole. Complete. Hers.

“You’re here for the entire weekend?” He asked to confirm and she nodded, laughing when he lifted her again with a loud whoop to celebrate. That got a few of the guys to join in although they had no idea what their Major was celebrating.

“I need you,” his voice suddenly dropped, setting her down as he turned to the door. “Let’s go.” He was buckling up her coat to make sure she was protected from the freezing London air. She was lucky he was too far gone to scold her for arriving with it unbuckled in the first place - she could get sick.

“John, John - relax, my sweet man,” she laughed, cupping his cheek to get his attention. “We can stay for a while. We don’t have to go yet.”

It’s why she was at the officer’s club in the first place. She had arrived early.

John turned stiff in her hold, straightening to his full height as he suddenly loomed over her. “I’ve got you in my arms for the first time and you want to stay here?” His voice was tight. His face stern.

“Yes - no, I -” she was unsure of where she went wrong or how to fix it. She clasped his hands in hers but he didn’t allow her to thread their fingers together so it was just her holding on. “I just meant we’ve got time, John.”

The way he was looking at her made her want to cry. She felt her lower lip quivering.

She felt ashamed, whispering, trying to get him to keep his cool.

“Time? Time?” He laughed loudly. She was mildly aware of Gale breaking away from a group of guys to near them, worried but she was mostly focused on John. The tense lines on his face even as he laughed and the quirked eyebrow even though she found no amusement in their situation. “You think I’ve got time? You have no idea what it’s like up there.”

She shook her head but didn’t try to verbally explain herself. She wasn’t sure she could manage a few words before breaking into tears.

“Come on, Bucky,” that was Gale stepping in to save the day. Perhaps the only person who could get John to listen. “When have you ever left before dancing with your girl? You gotta show these rookies how it’s properly done right?”

With Gale slapping a hand to John’s shoulders, he seemed to snap out of it. Releasing a deep breath and seemingly all the tightness in body with it.

He leaned down again, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, clasping a hand around her neck so she wouldn’t pull her head back. As their eyes locked she felt a tear fall again and this one wasn’t happy. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. It’s this place. It’s fucking with my head.”

And she chose to believe him, nodding her head in understanding and trying not to think about how she wasn’t his preferred person to write letters to or the one who could clear his head.

Maybe the Colonel should have allowed a weekend pass for Gale and John.

Lila swallowed the thought, allowing John to pull her to the dance floor as he lost all anger and aggression and became charming and loving all over again.

“Everyone, this is my wife!” He bellowed and everyone cheered in response. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and -” he hiccuped and she realized he was drunker than she thought, “and I bet we can out dance any couples here tonight!”

So for the next hour she found herself being twirled around the dance floor by her husband. She almost forgot their prior negative interaction; his love and energy was so infectious. For the slow songs he would hold her close and she would rest her head against his chest, letting it lull her to a relaxing state. He was alive and she was with him. That had to be enough. For the more upbeat songs, he was challenging any couple beside them. Asking those sitting who were better dancers? Who could perform certain dance moves better?

And all throughout, he was like he used to be back home. Loud and happy and the center of attention, keeping everyone entertained. He kept announcing to his boys that his beautiful wife was there and then he’d place a wet kiss on her mouth that had their cheeks (and hers) turning red but all he would do is smile and continue on.

She was finally able to disentangle herself from him when Crosby pulled him in for a conversation. Lila wonders if her state of disheveled hair and panting breaths made him want to aid her in allowing her to sit and grab a refresher.

Once she accepts Crosby’s hug and cheek kiss, she excuses herself to go grab a drink. John only pulls her back once to steal a kiss before she gets too far.

Her lips might be bruised by the time they leave if he kept it up.

She orders a cup of ice water from the man tending the bar, looking back out at her husband as she waits. He’d always been tall and strong, but she notices the change in his posture. The bulges in his arms as he twirled her around and lifted her in the air. His eyes were only bright when he forced it. They had lost their shine and she wishes she brought the picture from back home. Where he looks young and full of life and joyful. Even when he smiles he seems hollow; hopeless.

She’s there but he doesn’t really care because in his head he’s already thinking of when she leaves again.

She wasn’t used to that. Her John only lived in the moment.

“He keepin’ you busy?”

Gale settles up behind her and pushes the glass water towards her. She didn’t even notice when it was put down.

“Dizzy, more like,” she jokes and gets him to crack a smile. She thinks to when she walked in and seen Gale, how he’d been watching the scene unfold but with a disapproving look in his eyes. How he didn’t try to hide the scene from her or excuse it. He let it be. And she knows John has never shied away from attention. He’s always been handsome and charming and girls always swarmed but Lila wasn’t aware she had to be around to keep him loyal. She thought he just was. And she knows it’s not too long before they leave now so she decides to be direct with him. “So, does that happen often?”

She sees Gale’s expression split for a second, like he debates playing dumb before deciding against it and she respects him even more for it.

“I think you should talk to John about it.” He decides on.

“Is it something that needs to be mentioned?” She doesn’t like playing this game with him but she knows at the first words of cheating and adultery Gale is going to excuse himself and her chance will be lost.

She can’t be simple and ask: Does my husband cheat on me?

“Another ginger ale, Marty,” Gale raises two fingers to grab the man’s attention and mutters a thanks as his drink is immediately refilled. He turns his attention back to Lila. “He still loves you, Lila. It’s just - hard. Being out here.”

“You seem to be coping fine.”

She feels bitter. Crazy. There’s a sob she has to choke back.

Lila’s too embarrassed to meet Gale’s gaze. Ashamed that everyone knows what’s been going on and she was the ditzy woman being twirled on the dance floor.

“I think I was used to loneliness. He isn’t.”

And he says nothing else as he leaves her behind heading back to his boys. It’s just Lila and her shattering heart and her husband calling to beckon her back to the dance floor.

Luckily they didn’t stay much longer. She walked over to Bucky but he wasn’t able to pull her back out for a dance - it’s my song, Lila! - because Jack Kidd was approaching, letting them know it was time to leave them at the train station.

Lila waited in the car while Bucky ran into his quarters to pack his bag. He didn’t have many things to take, he would be stuck wearing his uniform anyway. Gale walks him back out to the car and despite the earlier conversation Lila exits the safety of the interior to say her goodbyes.

“Take care of yourself, Major,” she squeezes him, “I need you to stick around after this weekend to look after my man.”

“It’s a hard job but I try,” he replies, both of them ignoring Bucky’s protests.

Besides that, Bucky’s quiet on the ride to the train station. He carries her bag on board but he’s quiet for the duration of the train ride. Lila doesn’t disturb him; he might be tired or hungover or both.

And if she’s honest she’s scared of him snapping at her like the night before.

Instead she takes the time to take him in. He’s handsome in his suit. Tall and big and strong, his sharp jaw and powerful mouth, his eyes blue like a sunny day and his curls coming undone from the gel after all the dancing he did.

Lila doesn’t allow her mind to wander down this path too often but suddenly she can’t help it. Would their baby have looked like him or like her? She wishes more than anything they would have had his ears. She wishes they would have had his heart and his strength - but her loyalty. Her faith in them.

It’s crazy when she stops to think she was nineteen when she married him and now she’s twenty-one. She’s loved him for more than she’s been allowed to have him. She has changed without him like he has without her and it’s frightening to think neither of them could be accepting of those changes. Whatever they may be.

Lila shuts those thoughts out, closing the distance between them to sit on his lap. Passerby’s and his horrible mood and what scares her could be damned to hell - all she wants is her man.

John doesn’t deny her; she admits she was a little scared he would.

“I love you,” she tells him, catching his eyes.

“I know.”

He doesn’t return the words as they continue staring at one another but she refuses to let it get her down. This is her husband. She has the rest of her life to get to know him; new or old habits, she doesn’t care.

So instead, Lila plasters a smile onto her face. “What’re you gonna show me first in London, Major?”

“Well I really wanna show you our hotel room,” he plays along, allowing her to trace the edges of his mustache. She lets out a knowing chortle. “And I really want to show you -” he cuts himself off to look around, making sure no one was near them as he leans in to whisper, “- my cock, Mrs. Egan.”

She turns a bright red, trying to sputter out a proper response for that but all she can do is indignantly scold him. “John Clarence! If your mom were here -” and they both break out in loud laughter at the many possibilities of what his mother would exactly do to him if she heard his wicked mouth.

“Wanna grab some grub first?” He asks instead, knowing she hadn’t eaten at the officers club and before then she had been stuck on a plane. “I know a few places.”

Lila nods happily, pressing a kiss to his mouth. His lips are warm and as plump as she remembers them. His mustache tickles her.

“Let me feed you first, woman!” He groans, trying to be a gentleman. “When’s the last time you ate?”

She puckers her lips to think about it and that’s the only answer he needs: food is definitely first.

When they arrive at the hotel John enters to check them in but he slips a few bills into the bell boy’s hand with strict instructions to leave the bags in their room before pulling her back out to the London streets.

Lila felt underdressed surrounded by women in diamonds and fancy hats, and it didn’t help that John was beside her in his uniform looking dapper and catching the eye of many. They were stopped multiple times on the way to the diner; men wanting to shake his hand and show their gratitude while the women introduced themselves, uncaring of Lila under his right arm.

As long as he wasn’t ignoring or dismissing her she realized she didn’t really care. It wasn’t much different back home; everyone knew and loved John Egan.

The diner he chose was small and cozy and his legs were too long to fit under their table so his boot and his knee kept bumping into her own and she adored it. She wanted to feel close to him and since sitting on his lap currently wasn’t an option she figured this would have to do.

He tells her many stories but none of them are sad or tragic. He only shares the happy ones. He talks about how he convinced the Colonel to allow Buck, Curt, and himself a London weekend pass one time and they had shoved Gale into a haberdashery where he tried on a multitude of top hats worth more money any of them would ever see combined. But because they were soldiers and majors at that, the owner allowed it. There’s a museum nearby he talks about wanting to take her too, it showcases art from as early as the 1400s and he says he’s gotten lost in there plenty of times and it was lovely.

All the while, she listens without hearing him. Choosing to take him in and letting her mind wander to how it would be if things were different. It pains her to think how much older he looks since she last saw him. Looking more like it was ten years instead of the measly two. John’s always been one to smile freely but the wrinkles by his mouth, eyes, and forehead aren’t from smiling or laughing too much.

Lila knows they’re from worrying and stressing and being scared and she hates that she can’t understand him or be there for him. No matter how hard he tries.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes when a sob breaks free. She curls in over the table and John’s reaching over to rub her shoulders. She grabs a hold of her hand in his. “I just missed you so much.” She presses a kiss to his knuckles. “I don’t think I know how to not miss you.”

John doesn’t say anything but he motions a server over to settle the bill and once that’s done, he’s taking her hand and pulling her out the chair.

“You got enough food in you?”

All she can do is nod.

Her body feels electric on the short walk back to the hotel. He doesn’t do more than hold her hand and she thinks that is what has her nerves jittery, his palm in her hand sets her alight. She can feel his rough skin and the calluses on his fingers and the fingertips he runs over her skin and she bites back a moan.

Moaning in the middle of a bustling London street? She’d be thrown into an asylum she’s sure.

Beside her he’s quiet but his steps are quick. She has to lightly jog to keep up with long strides. He pulls on her hand to help her keep pace. It makes her think he’s as impatient for it as she is so she was surprised when upon closing the hotel room behind him he stays by the door. Not nearing or touching or kissing.

Just - nothing.

Her throat becomes tight again as she remembers the girl from the night before and her conversation with Gale. Is that the reason why?

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he says before she can spiral any further. Approaching her and bringing their lips together in a searing kiss, wasting no time in sliding his tongue alongside hers.

“I love you,” she responds and once again he doesn’t say it back. She figured he wouldn’t but she wanted to try. He takes her mouth in his again.

She gets irrationally angry, suddenly feeling the need to claim him so she bites at his bottom lip. He pulls back to press a finger to his lip, wiping the blood there.

Lila pulls on his belt, dropping to her knees right there in the middle of the room.

Mine. He’s mine.

“Make me your wife again,” she’s not sure but it sounds like she’s begging as she manages to unbuckle his belt and pull them around his strong thighs.

“God,” he breathed, “fuck. Look at you.”

Swollen lips parted for him to put to use. John wrapped his fist around her long hair to maintain a good grip, allowing the tip of his cock to hit the back of her throat. There was no resistance, no gag, her body remembering how it was taught to take all of him even though time had passed. John loved that fucking mouth and he found himself angry as thoughts entered his mind - if anyone had fucked her mouth while he’d been away - and he jerks his hips more forcefully. Rough.

This time Lila does gag. Her hand goes to push against his hip but he doesn’t allow her to pull away.

“Did anyone else do this?”

She splutters, eyes on him and confused with a mouthful of cock, unable to talk.

“Did you suck someone else’s cock? This is mine, Lila. Mine.”

He holds her down for a couple of more seconds before allowing her reprieve. She sputters and coughs, looking at him the entire time.

His dick is still hard and long, standing to attention, and he’s not sure whether he should apologize before she’s taking his bobbing dick back into her mouth. To the back of her throat and gulping and fondling his balls. Her nose kissing the coarse hairs on his belly trail and although it feels fucking amazing - he can feel the anger too. Her anger.

How dare he accuse her.

When she pulls off there’s a strand of saliva connecting his prick to her tongue. She has half a mind to go back for more but he’s pulling her back by her hair.

“I’m so lucky to have a wife who’s cock hungry,” he groans, pulling her to her feet by her hair and connecting their mouths in a rough kiss. Their teeths crash and tongues wrestly and he feels fucking crazy that she tastes like him. Simultaneously ripping each other’s clothes off.

Lila didn’t have any warning. One second she was kissing him and ripping open his shirt and the next she was bent over the bed with her ass in the air. John ran a finger over the wet patch on her underwear. The bite on her cheek was also unexpected and she clawed at the sheets, sure she could come from the feeling alone.

“This is mine, Lila,” he leaned in close, burying his face in her underwear. “Mine.”

All she could do was whimper and agree.

John smacked her ass so hard it jiggled. Lila yelled and after the pain ceded, time seemed to stop. Nothing but their rough breathing filling the room. John had never done that before.

She wasn’t sobbing but there were tears escaping. She was sure he didn’t know. He was waiting for a reaction.

Lila wasn’t sure where this side of her husband came from. Had he held back those two months? Did he learn it in Europe? Was that why there was another woman - because she couldn’t satisfy him?

She can’t lose him.

“Please,” she begs, hiding tears in the duvet, “do it again.”

Lies. It was all lies but John believes her and he strikes again. She yelps, fisiting the sheets. He believes it’s in pleasure.

Ten slaps. That’s how many she endures before he begins shushing and petting her again. He runs his fingers through her folds and although she didn’t enjoy the punishment mentally - she did nothing wrong, he was the liar - her body certainly did. She’s sopping wet, she’s gonna have to throw out her underwear because they’re destroyed.

“Did you enjoy that?” He grabs a fistful of her hair to sit her up, her back against his sweaty, matter chest. “You like being spanked, baby?”

“Yes.” It’s only half of a lie.

“Now - now, I’m going to fuck you. Nice and hard, just how you like it,” she wants to scream at him. She wants to hit him. When did she ever like it hard? When was hard ever nice? Who was he thinking about because it wasn’t her.

But at the same time she rocks back against him to feel his cock hard between her cheeks. She can’t say she doesn’t want it. Him. This.

He pushes her back down at her teasing, using his now free hands to spread her cheeks and show her tight asshole. Untouched and pure. He presses the tip of his cock against it but he doesn’t push. He doesn’t move.

She jerks at the pressure. Drools on the mattress as she tries to bite down to temper her screams.

Do it.

No, don’t.

“One day,” he promises, pressing deeper so her hole opens but not deep enough to push. “But today, today I want this.” And without any prepping like she’s used to, without any more warning, he’s sliding down and pushing into her. Hard. Deep.

She screams, can’t help it, claws at the mattress in an attempt to crawl away.

It hurt but it felt so good.

Who was she?

“You think you can go be with other men? Let them use the holes I trained? The ones that belong to me?” He pumps into her deep. Once, twice. She’s so wet the noises filling the room are pornographic, her yelling and his panting and her sopping wet vagina smacking against his thighs and taking his cock so well. “You like it like this, Lila? Like when I fucking own you?”

“Yes, yes,” she swears and this time she isn’t lying. It’s all she can manage; she thinks she’s gone cock dumb. There are no words, no feelings, just the feeling of him filling her.

She clenches tight when he slides out. She wants him inside her forever.

He releases his hold of her hair, stepping away. He’s tired of muffling her moans and words. He’s tired of not being able to see her beautiful face.

John’s favorite face in the entire world.

“Turn around,” he commands.

Lila kneels on wobbly legs as she turns over, having little to no energy and bouncing as her body lands with no grace on the mattress. John grabs one of her jiggling breasts in his large hand, squeezing tightly.

“I fucking missed these.” He takes one in his mouth, biting down on her nipple hard. She shrieks but holds his head to pull him closer.

Her thighs are forced open by his hand and then he’s taking hold of himself and thrusting in deep again. Releasing her breasts from his mouth in order to look at her mouth. Lila’s face when he’s fucking her is as close to heaven as he thinks he’ll ever get. She’s incoherent but she’s begging for more - that much he can make out. She manages to gather the strength to grab hold of him and pull him down, clawing at his back.

He hisses at the pain and bites on her collarbone to reciprocate it.

When she grabs the nape of his neck, the cool touch of her wedding ring against his skin, it gives him pause. This was his wife. His wife.

John has been gone so long he thinks he forgot he was married.

“I love you,” he finally says it, pressing his forehead against hers as he slows down. He sniffles then, leaning down to press a wet open-mouthed kiss against hers and swallow her moans. John can’t believe he forgot he had this; can’t believe he forgot for a minute how lucky he was. She’s gorgeous (and not just externally) and he’s quite sure he somehow managed to dream her up. “I love you,” he swears again.

This time she’s the one who doesn’t say it.

She clutches at neck and pulls him down to take a boob in his mouth. Looking him in the eye hurts too damn much. Why did he have to do this now? She was lost in the pain; she had been taking her punishment.

Lila squeezed her eyes shut, moaning loudly as she thrashed around the bed. Her orgasm taking over her body. She wrapped both legs tighter around John, squeezing and pulsing around him and dragging him to the edge with her.

“Fuck, fuck,” he roared, “so damn tight. Yes, Lila. My perfect wife.”

For a couple of seconds, they lay in the aftermath. Lila could feel the heat of John’s breath against her neck. She counted how many breaths they shared in between one another as they recuperated.

Forty-seven that’s how many breaths they shared as they stayed connected.

Forty-eight that’s when John managed to lift his head and place a peck against her mouth. One she didn’t return.

Forty-nine that’s when John pulled back in concern. Lila was so still.

Fifty. That’s the breath she used to say, “you cheated on me,” looking him right in the eyes as she broke out in uncontrollable sobs.

She cried and cried underneath him. Unable to move because her legs felt like jello and they held no power. Unable to push him off because she didn’t want to let him go. Unable to speak because she was suffocating in her heartbreak.

John watched her until he couldn’t, until he was afraid she was going to choke on her own tears and then he was sitting her up, trying to ignore the way she fought against his touch.

I’m sorry, I’m here, he kept saying.

I hate you, she thought but didn’t say.

Until finally, “don’t touch me!” She yelled when he got too close and made to wrap her up in a hug. “Get away from me, John. Stay away.” She crawled to the edge of the bed and curled herself into a tiny ball. Aware she was fully naked and he was still leaking out of her but she couldn’t find it in herself to do anything except cry.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t open her lungs and get any air in. She slapped at the headboard, aware that she was having a panic attack as suddenly everything hit her all at once. It was entirely consuming and she couldn’t do anything to fight against it except cry. All the feelings rushed her at once.

This was going to be it. The weekend of two lovers reunited was the weekend from hell and this was going to be it. She was going to return home in a day and he would stay in Europe and continue to fight the war and seek out other girls and when he returned she wouldn’t be his wife anymore.

Lila would be scornful and full of resentment and miserable and he would leave her. This last time was going to be all she had and she hated him for ruining it.

Why couldn’t he hide his affairs better?

Why did she have to surprise him?

She was perfectly happy not knowing. She was worried and stressed to hell and crying every night missing him but, oh God, all that was better than this.

Lila isn’t sure how long it’s been since she last took a breath but she feels herself fading. She’s shivering and naked in their bed and she can only slightly take in that John’s wrapping her up in the duvet and curling himself around her to warm her up. She’s trying to tell him she can’t breathe, she’s suffocating, at the same time he’s blowing air in her face.

She’s fading when she feels it. A sting on the left side of her face. Hard and sharp and enough to have her gasping for a deep breath.

“Baby, please, wake up,” he’s crying over her, his head on her chest, “wake up. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Her chest aches. She coughs.

He whips his head up so fast she almost laughs. Almost.

“Lila,” he holds her against his chest, rocking them back and forth on the bed as she takes in her surroundings. She isn’t sure how long she was out or how long she was panicking for. Had the sun been setting while she lost her shit? It was dark outside now. “Don’t leave me, you can’t leave me. Please.”

She taps at his arms to get him to release. She doesn’t think she can talk.

John allows her the space but he doesn’t remove himself from the bed. He stays kneeling, watching her. His hands keep twitching like he wants to reach out and touch her but he’s trying to respect her wishes of not being touched.

She doesn’t lay back down, she stays resting against the headboard. Breathing hurts. She’s scared of suffocating once more. Her left cheek begins burning and she wishes she had the strength to go look in the mirror. Did he mark her? She hopes he did.

Lila’s glad he made it hurt.

“You need to go,” she finally manages to say, ignoring the way he’s already shaking his head in defiance. “Leave me here, John. I want you to go. Get another room.” Find another woman. “I leave in a day.” She wishes she never came to stupid London. She wishes she could forget this entire trip.

“Lila it’s the war,” he starts, shaking in his own tears. “It’s all the shit I see, baby. None of it was because of you okay? None. You don’t fucking know what it’s like up there for us but I stay alive in hopes of coming home to you.” He promises.

She shakes her head, fighting back any more tears. How the hell could she still have any tears left?

“But Gale didn’t cheat,” it bursts out of her before she can stop it and she knows it’s the wrong thing to say entirely.

John stops his apologies, clearing his throat as he gets up and begins dressing into his suit. She doesn’t stop him. She doesn’t take back any of what she said. She gets tired of sitting so she lays on her side, staring out the window and noticing London doesn’t have many stars. Is that why it’s so horrible here? Because there were no stars to wish upon.

She could hear his boots stomping on the ground as he reached the door. “Maybe you should have married Gale fucking Cleven then.” And the door slams shut behind him.

She wonders if he’s angry enough to find a girl and sleep with her. Her eyes blur. The time on the clock is six p.m and London’s already dark. She realizes she hasn’t slept since her plane ride. About 19 hours awake - her and John.

Lila allows her eyes to close, hoping when she wakes everything will be better.

Shadows over her eyelids wake her up. Lila finds she hasn’t moved. She’s in the same position facing the window. Facing London, only now bombs are dropping over it. The prettiest colors burst forward in the window but she knows it's truly only tragedy and loss. Murder.

She recognizes John sitting in the arm chair and she wonders when he got back. He isn’t facing her, he’s watching bomb after bomb drop and land no more than mere miles away from them. He’s holding a whiskey on ice, twirling the ice so it hits against the glass.

Lila wonders then if it was the shadows or the noise that woke her up.

“I must have punched in my card a long time ago,” his voice is strong in the dead of the night, seemingly even louder than when he’s singing in the pub. “It must be the reason for all of this. Karma.” He scoffs.

I deserve this, is what he’s trying to say.

Lila feels her stomach twist and spin and there’s bile sitting in her throat. She closes her eyes to stop herself from imagining John in a plane, dropping a bomb that lands on children. She closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to see the hurt sitting on his shoulders.

She remembers how angry she was when he first signed up. Before they were married. They had been dating for over a month, barely, and she already scribbled ‘Mrs. Egan’ over her notebooks. She’d heard it from his younger sister, Eileen, and she felt her world stop. She hadn’t hesitated to run to the stables he worked at and confront him in front of all the men.

“You’re leaving me,” she had accused him. “You’re gonna leave! I’ll never forgive you, John Egan.”

And in front of everyone he’d knelt down and produced a ring, the one his father had given his mother and said, “Marry me.” He didn’t ask because they both knew it wasn’t a question.

She was already his.

And he was hers.

Lila had forgiven him and promised to love, honor, and obey for the rest of her life.

She doesn’t have the strength to stand so even though her throat burns she speaks. “Lay with me,” she croaks. Her voice is raspy and broken and even clearing it aches.

John shakes his head. “You don’t want me to.”

“Lay with me,” she repeats, firm. “I just want to fall asleep with you.”

He looks at her like he's scared to believe. Trying to figure out whether she’s simply being cruel and going to kick him out in her next breath. Or more likely, he’s scared she’ll lose her shit being near him again.

John, hopeful and never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, sets his drink down and nears the bed. Lila keeps her eyes locked on his and he does the same. Their moves and tension resemble a game of chicken, one of them afraid any sudden change can have the other running off.

“Take off your uniform,” she says when he pushes back the covers while still fully dressed. He jerks his head in confusion and she bites her lip to contain a laugh at his dirty mind. Sex is the last thing on her mind. “I want to feel you, that’s all.”

John does as she asks, setting his cap down and shredding every layer before he’s naked and gorgeous and sliding in beside her. She doesn’t allow herself to think about what it means when she immediately slides closer.

Lila’s the one to wrap her arms around him.

Lila’s the one to intertwine their legs.

John follows her lead, lifting an arm so she can raise her head and use it as a pillow. She scoots her face closer and she nuzzles into her armpit, smelling his deodorant and feeling his hairs poke at her nose. She moves further along, escaping the cocoon of his armpit to press her cheek against his chest. She clutches his dog tags in her palm, tight, so he can’t get up in the middle of the night.

“Can we fall asleep together?” She asks, but when she looks up John’s already there.

The next time Lila wakes up her palm aches. She releases what she’s gripping, remembering how she clung to John’s dog tags when he slid into bed beside her. She lifts her head and finds John already looking at her.

He’s got the saddest eyes she’s ever seen and she hates that she’s partly why.

“We should talk,” her voice is low and cracks from not being used. John nods his head but makes no move to begin.

Lila lays her head back on his chest, lightly picking at his matted, curly chest hair. She presses her lips to a freckle near his nipple and his intake of breath lets her know he felt it,

“I’m not the one you write the most letters too,” she starts, finding it easier to not have to look him in the eye. “You write the most to your mom. And I’m not the one who can calm you down when your anger gets the best of you,” she’s so tired of crying, “that’s Gale. “And I can’t even be here for you at the end of a mission to console you or kiss you or help you forget,” she chokes on a sob. “That’s whoever else.”

I couldn’t even keep our baby healthy, she leaves out.

“What’s your point with all this, Lila?”

Lila lifts her head from his chest, “My point is I’m a horrible wife. I - I don’t know if it was too soon or just not thought out but this - I- ” she can’t get the rest of the words out.

“Don’t say that,” John sits up against the headboard, forcing her up as well. He grabs both her wrists in one of his hands to pull her closer and grab her attention. “Don’t fucking tell me that, Lila.”

“I don’t make you happy,” she shakes her head.

“You do. Everything I do, everything I’m doing - it’s for you Lila.”

“I don’t want to marry Gale. Or someone like him. I love you. Only you. But I’m scared that I don’t make you happy. You deserve better.”

“Oh you dumbass,” John coos, suddenly finding the entire situation amusing. He pulls her in for a hug. “You’re my entire fucking heart, Lila Egan. You don’t think you make me happy? You’re the only thing in my life, in my head, that makes me happy.”

She pulls away to hold his face. “If you’re gonna leave me John you need to tell me now. I don’t care about the girls if all they are is to pass the time. And I don’t care that you write to your mom more than me and I don’t care that Gale is the one you listen to but I just need to be the one you love the most. I need to know I’m making you happy.”

His heart aches at the fact that he made her feel she was ever anything less than the most important person in his life. “Lila,” he presses a kiss to her lips, “Rose,” another kiss, “Egan,” another. “Are my only reason for staying alive.”

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 9

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

A/N: sorry this took so long, but i hope y'all enjoy! Can't wait to hear what you think of it 💕

-🐺-

As soon as the chinook touched down, you awakened to scorching Mexican heat and an achingly dry mouth. The hot air left you clacking your tongue in disgust at the tacky taste of sleep, but lucky for you Price was ready with a bottle of water. Barely seconds after downing half of it like a floundering fish, you were hauling yourself out with Gaz. 

You didn’t get very long to look around once out. After taking a precautionary glance around the military base and scoping the dusty buildings, the three of you were soon greeted by a tall smiling man with his arms folded. Meanwhile his stocky, straight faced hybrid companion hung back to his right. You could feel his unshifting gaze on you the moment you’d stepped out the helicopter. 

It was a surprise, afterall it’d been so long since you’d worked with another of your kind. He was a wolf just like you, but his ears were a soft bark like brown and his tail swished straight down the way, perfect and unbroken despite his field of work. When you flicked your eyes back to his you could see him looking you up and down with the same assessing stare. 

“Good to see you again, Captain. Garrick.” The tall man said, beaming at Price and nodding to Gaz before he then tilted his head at you. “And you brought backup, I see.”

“Not backup, Ale. This is Pup - 141’s newest recruit,” Price said, putting a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Pup, this is Colonel Alejandro Vargas and his hybrid partner Rodolfo Parra.”

“Rudy must’ve made quite the impression last time we worked together, eh?” Alejandro said, patting Rodolfo's Shoulder in turn. 

‘Rudy’ raised his eyebrows at that. Clearly he hadn’t expected to have had much of an influence on Price’s new hybrid, but now he was looking somewhat embarrassed at that inadvertent praise. His tail tucked into his leg revealing some of the ombré streak of tan that ran through the back of it and his ears settled low to his head. 

“Well he, more than any other hybrid before, certainly showed me there’s a lot of merit in having a multi-species team,” Price shrugged. “Pup was the one to convince us, took em out on a mission and Pup was solid.”

“Is that so? I look forward to working with you then, Pup,” Alejandro said, directing an easy smile in your direction. “Are you all ready to head to the target location? I can finish briefing you all in the ride over.”

“Yeah, best get on with it,” Price nodded. 

With that, you all walked round to the head of the massive jeep convoy and loaded yourselves in. 

Even after being told it was legit, there was a part of you that had been deeply suspicious that Price had made up a goose chase just to get you out of the kennels all the way up until the ride in the jeep. A little ghost of warmth had filled you at the idea your Captain cared so much. Even when he’d dispelled that once he’d gotten to talking about strategy with Alejandro, you couldn’t help but feel he’d taken you when he might not have in any other situation. Especially when it was likely you’d be forced into all out assault against heavy fire. Some might’ve resented that, but you could only shift around in anticipation, tail wagging around like a cat toy. 

You were all going to be storming through the forest and taking down a cartel in hopes of finding a connection that had another connection through which you’d find the arms dealers that the 141 had been tasked with taking down. Not complicated at all. Well, Alejandro and Price’s explanation was somewhat complicated, you’d almost gone cross eyed trying to follow all the names, but Gaz was kind enough to whisper in your ear and fill you in on the local groups that they were discussing. 

The whole time Rudy watched you out of the corner of his eye. You could see them practically cutting through the mirror. The way he seemed to frown, you could only assume he had some kind of a problem or was at least wary with you. However he didn’t voice any concerns. Merely kept his ears folded downward in obvious discontent. 

-🐺-

“Pup, what the fuck did I tell you? Stay close!” 

Within no time, the forest was like an impressionist painting. Streaks of dark spots dotted themselves in amongst the twisty trees and blended through the foliage before firing and lighting up their spots, forcing themselves to shift once more. 

To the humans you were with, it would be utter chaos. To you and Rudy, it was all background distraction. You could smell the people, you didn’t have to look for them. Even despite the ear protection you wore, you could still hear their shifting feet clumsily beating through the brush.

And so the two of you found yourselves standing over a body, mouths covered in blood, yours plastered with a smirk while he took to a coy smile. The man had been about to take a shot, aiming for either your boys or Alejandro. Though before he could fire he was interrupted by Rudy yanking the gun back and then you diving onto him, rendering the idiot gravely wounded until Rudy delivered a final blow. 

“We make a good team,” you said, cocking your head and listening out for more movements. 

Rudy snorted and turned away. 

“Maybe…but there’s still more work to do.”

When he stalked off you couldn’t help but frown, but ultimately you followed, there wasn’t the time to contemplate why he was so standoffish. There would be plenty of time for that when you and your team weren’t being hunted like an infestation. Not to mention Price was screaming in your ear about checking in and to report your condition. 

“Still operational, Captain,” you muttered. “Making my way back to you.” 

With that you were racing through the trees, eyes fuzzy and losing themselves in the darkness. Your instincts were sharply rising to the surface, the wolf within growing stronger every passing second. It felt like your veins were pumping hot lava. 

There were three men that crossed you on your way back to Price. The first fell to the floor and gurgled before he could even think about lining up a shot for you, the second fought bravely and managed to graze your arm with a bullet and bruise your neck a little in an effort to pull you off. The third had seemingly popped out of nowhere, he had to have been camped in his position like a sand snake. The sneaky bastard was about to land a bullseye, the barrel of his weapon practically kissed your temple. You thought you’d only had enough time to squeeze your eyes shut and draw back your ears.

Lucky for you though, Gaz shot first. 

“Were you listening when Price asked you to be careful, Pup?”

“Course I was. Don’t think that guy was though,” you grinned. 

“Bloody hybrids,” Price grunted through the comms. “You two on me. Now!”

Both you and Gaz joined Price once more and continued on your tear through the forest. More than once you ran into Rudy, but by that point you were too lost in the work to really take note. Blood had sponged into your clothes and dripped off your chin, your muscles were bunched with tension and your pupils felt wide as the moon. That primal side of you was fully present and awake and it had its claws caught so deep, there was a small part of you that worried about being stuck feral. 

All notion of that disappeared when Price commanded you to stop. His hand wound tight in your collar and suddenly your legs lost their momentum. You peered up at him wide eyed and out of breath, soon looking out of the corners of your eyes and searching for hidden dangers. You only made eye contact once you knew for certain you’d both be safe. 

“Easy, Pup,” he said soothingly, running a rough hand over your ears in gentle waves. “Easy. That’s it.”

“Why’ve we stopped?” You rasped, so high pitched it could almost have been a whine. 

“The compound is up ahead. We want you and Rudy with us. Can you follow my commands? Are you ready to go in?”

Price gestured at Alejandro and Rudy who were standing just off to the side of you. Rudy’s chest was rising and falling like a beating drum, but other than that, he looked composed and ready to strike. In comparison you felt like something of a tornado. 

For a few seconds you closed your eyes and breathed, slowly gaining awareness of your own thudding heart and the way the air tickled at the hollows of your ears. 1…2…1…2. You imagined Ghost’s deep rumble telling you to come back to yourself. Instantly your awareness sharpened. You could make out the faded scent of cigars that wafted through every fibre of Price’s being, and in that moment there was no greater comfort than something that had become so fmailliar. 

“Yeah…Ready, Captain,” you said with a gulp. 

Price nodded back at you and then to each member of your small group. Before long you were lead to the front of the treeline, staring at a big concrete eye sore that hid just below the tops of the great Cypruses so that it might stay hidden from the sky. There were a few slitted windows, one small doorway, plenty of opportunity for anyone that might try to get a lucky shot in. You couldn’t help but notice that the whole thing looked like a creature grimacing in pain. 

Alejandro clicked his tongue, then began to speak. 

“Ok, listen up. There’s only one entryway into this thing, so we’re going to need to manoeuvre round and then run like hell and take out whoever we can from the outside before it turns into a death funnel. It’s gonna be armed to the teeth once we’re inside, so we need to be fast and we need to spread out,” Alejandro said, his voice low while his eyes roamed the building. “Gaz and I want you up front with me so we can take shots inside while Price holds up the rear. Then, when it’s safe enough, we’ll send in the wolves to stir up a little carnage. I want you two to team up and take down who you can, overwhelm them and keep them panicked enough that they can’t get a shot on either of you.”

Gaz clenched his jaw as soon as it was mentioned that you’d be going in first. He shot a sharp look over at Price, but your Captain wasn’t giving anything away. You yanked your head around from where he was holding your collar and looked at him, trying to evaluate how he felt about that plan of attack. He was stoic as ever. 

“Let’s do it,” he said eventually, breathing deeply as if to punctuate his decision. 

He didn’t look in any mood to argue. Gaz probably evaluated things that way too because he didn’t say anything, but that didn’t stop him from giving a small nod of his head and keeping his eyes glued to you. It was as if he was saying that he’d be just behind you no matter what he was commanded anyway. 

You offered him a reassuring smile, or something like that as your lip didn’t quite fully curl. Your body was too busy preparing itself for attack, letting go of functions that didn’t facilitate your immediate survival. Your vision darkened by the second, but before your instincts burst fully to the forefront of your mind you couldn’t help but catch a little movement in the corner of your eyes. 

Alejandro wrapped a hand round the back of Rudy’s neck and pulled him close, touching his forehead to his hybrid’s. His lips moved quickly, he said something that sounded Spanish and then…kissed Rudy’s temple. Then just as quickly as he’d swooped in for a peck, he moved away again. Gaz and Price were too busy looking at you, they didn’t catch it, but they did catch your frown. 

“Alright, Pup?” Gaz asked, quickly picking up on your change of expression. “You alright with the plan?”

You blinked up at him. It took a little while until you mustered up the wherewithal to shake your head. The movement slowed as if it were moving through molasses 

“No, I’m fine with it Gaz,” you shrugged. “I infiltrate first most of the time anyway. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’ll worry anyway,” he said, flicking your ear from just over your helmet. “Don’t want anything to happen to my new favourite.”

You shook your head, but rather than let loose the grin that threatened to spill over your lips, you let the comment fuel you. That and Rudy and Alejandro’s little moment could wait till later. At that moment everything was about the building in front of you and the protection of your hard earned team. You wouldn’t let them down. For once you were happy to act as both the battering ram and shield, knowing you’d fight any man that threatened to take your men from you. 

Once Ale gave the go ahead, everything seemed to happen in double time. You, Price and Rudy took up the rear, running ahead through the panic with snarling jaws and weapons Primed. Price shot behind you all at any stragglers from the woods while you and Rudy moved to position yourselves for the door. A renewed fire lit your veins, and when you looked over you could see that Rudy looked much like you felt, his face focused and irises wide as cannonballs. 

As soon as Alejandro cried ‘go’ you were both let loose. Rudy flew high and you went low, both taking out the two men that filled the hallway like pillars. Your man screamed bloody murder when his femur was torn into and then squeaked when his genitals were shredded loose from his body. Rudy’s man didn’t have the chance to scream, his throat was torn out and slapped against the walls with a wet sound. 

The next few men were dispatched in equally gory fashion, blood spattered fourth and covered you both anew, your mouth fizzed with the taste of iron and tattered fabric. Saliva and plasma foamed down your chin, each new bite like a mouthful of unset jelly. It was that feeling that had your instincts invading, the battle in front of you fading as it blended into all the ones that came before it. 

-🐺-

“So you’re actually useful for something then! What a good mutt. We finally made a killer out of you, didn’t we? Can send you off to do some real work.”

The face in front of you tortured you like nothing else. That fucking tirelessly smug look, that scar that marred him seemed to deepen that unbearable smile, it stretched tight over his lips. He loomed just out of reach, no matter how hard you fought against the chain, you could never touch him. Could never reach no matter what you tried.  

“You just saved me a bullet, you vicious little bitch… I’ll let you into a secret too since you passed your test so spectacularly - It wouldn’t have been for him. Could’ve used him for the next dog after all.”

The body below you was cooling now. The man’s blood at your hands and feet only made you long all the more for Maddox’s, but there was no way he’d be stupid enough to allow you loose when so feral. Instead he took great joy in watching you choke yourself just for the chance of even laying a scratch on him, chuckling everytime you gagged.

-🐺-

“Pup! Behind!”

You squealed, clawing at the air as you were quite literally dragged back into the present. Someone was forcing you from your latest quarry, the man was still screaming and flailing around like a kicked puppy, throwing himself around with all the grace of a chew toy. The strangers’s hands brought you back and twisted you around to meet his gun, the burning scent of its barrel stinging your nostrils. Though before the metal could reach your head, you flung it upward with your fist. The noise of the shot ground into your ears like iron shavings, competing with your knuckles in a blindingly throbbing battle. 

Even with the generous ear protection you were given, you were still left reeling. Made dizzy and sent wobbling off to the wall by your left. The gun was lining up with you slowly, the man clearly affected by that same misfire. It was a race for both your lives. You pushed off the crumbling wall and threw yourself to his feet in a last ditch attempt to win. 

Another shot rang out. Your vision went black. Your body felt as if it had been buried at the bottom of an explosion, your lungs and back ached with pressure. A few more shots whizzed through the air, the individual pops were your only company through the darkness. That and a low rumbly voice that felt as if it were vibrating through your rattling skull. You're my good Pup, it said, I knew you had to be mine.

“Pup! Pup!”

Light flooded your eyes and the unforgiving weight on your back alleviated all at once. You were rolled around to meet wide brown eyes that searched over you in a wide sweeping motion. Gaz. He finished tossing the body that had lain on top of you and came to kneel directly in front of you so that he could get a better look. 

“Still breathing, Cap!” he shouted, his voice deliberately carrying past where you were lying. 

You flicked your eyes to the hallway beyond and noticed Price dragging someone into a room after acknowledging you both with a grunt and a quick glance. You didn’t recognise the man he was flinging through the doorway, but you could only assume it was the target. 

“I told you not to worry,” you groaned.

Gaz didn’t look the least bit amused. Neither did you after he hauled you up into his lap. You grimaced, hands instinctively flying to your side where pain had begun to radiate like a blooming lotus. The petals of that pain unfurled slowly, sending your breathing haywire. Fuck, did it hurt. It sent you cursing like a sailor. 

“Did that cunt actually shoot me?” You seethed, not willing to look down while you were trying to focus on breathing. 

“Fucking lucky that one didn’t. That one you were attacking first got you in the vest from further away before his friend fell on you. I got em’ both.”

“Ah…Makes sense that I’m not pink mist then. Thanks for that.”

Gaz turned you around, just so he could narrow his eyes at you. You could only tilt your head back, wondering why he was so perturbed. He didn’t look angry per se, it was like he wasn’t sure what to feel. His brows were heavy over his darkened eyes and his jaw ticked over as he tried to form words. You’d never seem him like that before.

“What happened to you?” he finally asked.

“What do you mean?” 

“Your eyes were pitch black, I’ve never seen you that far gone before. It was like you were possessed or something. Freaked me the fuck out.” He said, shaking his head. “So what happened?”

Had it been someone you hadn’t known you’d have told them to shove it. The rebuke was building on your tongue, practically clawing to come out. Though the concern on Gaz’s face stopped you from doing anything of the sort. You softened your gaze and looked off to his left, focusing on a tattered piece of wall and the ghost of a smile the bullet marks created. 

“Training took over. Maddox…he always…,” you stared so hard your vision doubled, the blurry face grinning back twice as much before you refocused on Gaz. “The wolf in me took the lead. I did my job and they went for me and not any of you. All that matters is you’re fine, Gaz.”

Gaz didn’t say anything to that. He continued to frown, and thought on it for a minute, staring down at the spot where the centre of your pain radiated outward. You began to wonder if it was pulsing visibly just as much as it was physically. However impossible that was. Just as he looked like he might have formed a response his chance to talk was taken from him. 

“Gaz, how’s Pup? Broken?” 

Price’s voice was all grit, he filled the silence like a sledgehammer. Gaz called back that you were going to be fine, just bruised and after another grunt of affirmation he was called to come assist in securing the asset. Alejandro sent Rudy to go watch over you. Gaz gave you a look that said he’d be talking to you later while he switched with Rudy, disappearing into the room and taking his palpable silence with him. 

Rudy didn’t show any of that same blinding concern once he reached you. If anything he looked like he might be bored, but you couldn’t tell with his face. He had a knack for appearing neutral, if not a bit startled at times. Looking so shifty as his ears flicked about, clearly not trusting that the base would stay conquered. 

“You’re still alive. Good for you,” he said at last, choosing a spot just in front of you to lean against. 

You snorted. His ears twitched irritably at the sound. 

“What? You disappointed?”

“No, just surprised,” he said simply.

You frowned back at him, but before you could bother to ask why, he elaborated. 

“They break all you British hybrids so bad, its like none of you even want to try staying alive.”

“What? They train you so much better over here do they? I never realised Mexico was such a paradise,” you said back, sneering over at him. “It’s no wonder your ears and tail aren’t even marked if you’re standing there looking down on me for the way i fight.”

Having said that, you were waiting for the fight to break out that normally would’ve happened with any of the bastards from your last base. All of you were raised on a hair trigger. Left to your own vengeance, so long as you didn’t cause any grievous wounds that stopped you working.

With that in mind you made a show of visibly switching off your comms, confident now that the fighting with the cartel was behind you that you could settle things in private. Rudy didn’t even bat an eye however, he tilted his head at you, but eventually did the same. Neither of you needed to disrupt the others with your bickering.  

“You think that your broken tail makes you a better soldier than me?”

There wasn’t a good response for that. If he’d engaged in your petty little fight, you might’ve said yes, but he was as calm as if he and you were sat waiting in a briefing room. As you tried to find a retort your ears flicked nervously around your head, dancing between being upright and flattened before they settled on pinning ever so slightly backwards. 

“Shows that I must be doing a good job staying alive if I’m still here despite it.”

He smiled at that, pursing his lips soon after. 

“Sure…I’ll let you have that. They call you ‘Pup’ for a reason I suppose.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you growled.

“Mean’s that you sulk just the same as one.”

You lunged for him and quickly regretted it when your ribs sent a stab of pain that tremoured through your whole body. Even while you did everything in your power not to make a noise, you were helpless in letting a small whine escape your throat. 

“Sound like one too. You should take it easy, you’ll have plenty time to get me back once you recover from that.”

You flipped him off in place of being able to take a swipe at him. Your breathing was getting ragged, so deep and frayed that you eventually committed to ripping your vest off and getting a look at your wound. Your arms burned with the effort it took, but the thing parted from you with a thunk and suddenly your body really let you know just how much you’d wrecked it. Traitorous thing, proving Rudy right. 

When your eyes landed on the island shaped bruise at your side, it took everything not to wretch. The thing was already a hundred different shades, looking ugly and dark and just as sore as it felt. Your eyes grew wet and you soon forgot all about the one sided argument you were having and closed them, begging yourself not to cry so that you could reserve the last scrap of your dignity. 

“That looks bad…Woah!”

You hadn’t realised, but in a fit of dizziness you’d begun to slide down the wall. Rudy stopped you from collapsing into a heap right at the last second. For second all you felt was air and then his cool hands on your skin. Not long after his peppery scent flooded through you, forcing you to stay in the room. He propped you up on his side and kept an arm curled against you, gripping onto your hip. 

“You good?” He asked, intense eyes flicking all over your face. 

They were like molten copper. He disarmed you instantly, chasing the rest of the fight out of your failing body. Even if you had been primed to start a boxing match only moments before you’d resolved to let him have his sense of superiority while you focused on staying upright.

Well, almost. 

“You just this touchy with everyone, yeah?” you asked, trying to distract him from how pathetic you’d turned. 

It was finally his turn to look confused.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, ears flicking around. 

“I saw you two lovebirds before we attacked,” you grinned, soon grimacing when you took a particularly hard breath. “Does he always give you a good luck kiss?”

Rudy looked like he wanted to throw you off of him, but by sheer goodness of his own heart prevented his hand from doing so. It didn’t stop his fingers gripping your hip tighter, his claws luckily grazing your good side. He stopped himself when he caught your wince.

“Don’t talk shit.”

“I’m not judging.”

“Sounds like you are,” he snorted. 

“If anything I’m jealous.”

That was supposed to be a joke. However your tone didn’t convey that. So for a second you were left blinking over at each other until Rudy clenched his jaw. His iron patience was wearing thin, the pickaxe that you were taking to it was apparently breaking through. All from that comment. It was then that you realised whatever he had with the colonel was more than just a little over affection. 

“Really? You want Ale?”

You gasped in shock, clutching your side and barking out in laughter. 

“Oh shit, no,” you cackled.

“Who then?”

“My handler obviously…apparently. Fuck me, how did we even get to talking about this?” you sighed, settling back against the wall. 

Rudy looked more relaxed now and he loosened his hold on your frame, his tongue lashed out against his lips and that gentle smile returned to his face.

“You got us onto the subject I believe. Which of them is your handler? Garrick?”

“Desperate to gossip now?” You asked, trying to let the subject die. 

Rudy wasn’t having that though. He was like a cat with a mouse, easily batting you between his big paws.

“It’s Garrick isn’t it? You were looking…moon eyed is the expression isn’t it?”

“I do not have moon eyes for anyone!” you groaned, knocking him with your shoulder and hurting him about as much as you did yourself. “Besides, I belong to Ghost not Gaz.”

Rudy’s eyebrows shot up so high you were almost sent into a new laughing fit imagining them coming clean off. He shook his head, eyebrows still firmly attached. The absurdity of the whole situation didn’t escape you. After being in a gunfight that almost ended your life, it seemed unlikely that you’d be stuck gossiping with your fellow hybrid afterward while there was a man most likely being beaten for information in the other room.

“Ghost?” he choked out. “No mames! That’s not someone you want a kiss from. He’d give you the kiss of death.”

“Maybe on you. He’s really quite sweet with me,” you grinned, “Reckon he’d give me a big peck on the head as well, just like Ale does with you.”

“Ghost. Sweet?”

“He is. We were having a romantic morning cuddling in bed just the other day,” you said faux wistfully. “Trading stories, sharing scents.”

“Ah, so that’s the nice British way of saying that you fuck. I’ll have to keep that in mind when Alejandro and I trade scents.”

It was your turn to risk losing your eyebrows to the sky. In fact you were so taken aback that your mouth went dry. Sure it wasn’t like you were a virgin, but you had thought it was rare that hybrids and humans had sex, nevermind navigated complicated handler relationships while doing the act. In fact that very idea opened up new avenues in your mind, sparked a little inkling of opportunity you hadn’t really consciously considered much before. 

“You and Alejandro are…together?”

You’d expected him to laugh or look offended or look panicked or something, but now that you two had found some kind of messed up common ground he didn’t give much away. He tilted his head at you and smiled indulgently. 

“Oh, so you weren’t just playing coy? Poor little Pup.”

“Poor little Pup nothing,” you said petulantly, folding your arms and willing the conversation away. “I’m a professional, I don’t shag my superiors.”

“It sounds like you’d like to though,” he chuckled, looking delighted with himself. “I’m right, am I not?”

“No,” you said squeaked out, body raising a hundred degrees just at the thought. 

All sorts of images flooded your mind. Ghost lying next to you just like he had been when he’d whisked you into his bed. Ghost dripping and wet from the rain, carrying you close to him, so close to him you could practically smell him through the mental haze. Ghost holding you against a wall while you trained, keeping you at bay while you waited to attack your fake target. Ghost’s unyielding grip on your collar. Relax Pup, I’ve got you. Thats it, keep it steady. 

“Oh well that’s definitely the face of someone that’s telling the truth,” he remarked slyly. 

“Go fuck yourself,” you huffed, shaking at the realisation that maybe that wasn’t even the first time that you’d considered being open to the idea of something else with Ghost…  

“I don’t have to. Maybe you can use that death wish of yours to ask for the same.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you groaned, now just trying to focus on staying upright.

“Alright then,” Rudy said, still smiling into the middle distance. “You’re the one that started talking shit anyway.”

“No don’t you start that shit, you’re the one-”

“You two!” Price barked.

Both your heads whipped around to the now open doorway where Ale and Gaz were busy dragging a hooded man while your Captain oversaw the whole thing. His face was grave and drawn, he looked battle worn and weary, but even beneath the layers of grime and awful mood you could see that his resolve stayed well intact. 

“Captain,” you said quietly, feeling like you had to acknowledge him in some way. 

Rudy said nothing, but gave a nod.

“We have a team coming out to meet us and escort this one back to Los Vaqueros’s base. Rudy, stay with Gaz and Ale. Pup, can you stand?”

You bit your lip, knowing how much your next movement would hurt, but sucking it up despite yourself. With a growl, you braced your hands beneath you and then clawed your way up the wall, coming to a shaky stand until you were all the way upright - almost all the way upright. Your hip kept you wonky on your feet, but otherwise you were able to stay in place. 

You shot him a shaky thumbs up. 

“Good. I’ll help you to evac. Once we get to base, you and me are going to have a talk.”

If your spirits hadn’t been thoroughly pissed on by that point, they were then. Your ears drooped low and you nodded slowly waiting at the wall like a naughty child until he was ready to prop you against his shoulder. 

Your thoughts raced at the possibilities of all he could want to talk about. So much had happened to you in such a short space of time, it felt like your mind was a skipping DVD. Scenes of carnage melded with the two officers in the hallway, both rooms melting together while flashing to Ghost, Price, Soap and Gaz training with you. All your team warred for for time with all your enemies, all the fighting you had done up to that point mingled with scenes from training hangars, bars with pool games and soft blue sheets draped over Ghost’s sprawling body. 

It was going to be a long ride back.

-🐺-

“You decent?”

You looked down at the puddle of water below your tail with unfocused eyes, the blurry edges of the water seemed to morph and change colours with the flickering lights above you. Shifting between pink, yellow and white. It had taken a while to get most of the blood out. Most being the operative word. Your uniform was hurled into the corner, too far gone to be worth washing or doing anything to save. Price had told you to chuck it once you were changed into the new clothes he’d pulled from your kit. 

“Yeah, I’m changed,” you finally answered back. 

You were a little soggy, but still you had changed and you were clean and your hair had been tended to first after getting your jogging bottoms and T-shirt on. All that was left was to finish brushing out your tail, your secret weapon against whatever words were about to come your way. From the way Price had been speaking to you, you could tell he wasn’t very happy. Brushing out the snarls from your fur would give you an excuse not to look at him. 

You were just starting to comb out the tip of the silvery fur when Price walked in, boots heavy against the tile. He filled the doorway like a barricade. 

“Come on,” he sighed, his voice even heavier now that he was so close to sleep. “Go sit on a bed, I need to get off my feet.”

“My tail’s still wet, I need to brush it out and dry it,” you said quickly, hoping that you weren’t giving him reason to be more annoyed.

“Fling a towel down. Whatever bed you sit on, I’ll take. Gaz can have the other one.”

You raised your eyebrows, but didn’t dare question him further. Truth be told, when you’d been pushed toward the room and through the bathroom, you hadn’t thought much about what the bunking situation would be, but now that you were cognizant of the situation, it dawned on you that there was two twin beds beds out there and three soldiers to fill them. So you must be on the floor then. 

It didn’t matter. That wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand. You took a dry towel and spread it out over the bed on the left hand side of the simple room, and taking a proper look around. There were two twin sized beds at the back of the room, a plain wooden dresser next to the doorway at the front, and of course the bathroom that you’d come out of to the left with a mirror stuck to the back of it. The walls were stark white, but thankfully there was a small window in the middle of the two beds, giving the room a little relief from the stark paint and yellow lighting. 

You jumped when Price came to sit next to you, avoiding touching the already wet towel, but sitting close enough you were dipping into him. It took a little adjusting so that you wouldn’t lean into him, but once you both got comfortable, you were soon left staring. Looking into the hard blue gaze that met yours like a set of angry headlights. 

“Gaz told me what you said.”

“W-what?” you whimpered, wondering what it was that he was referring to.

Had he heard your conversation with Rudy? You were so sure that door was closed. So sure that you could barely hear their mutterings in there. 

“He said that you told him you ‘did your job’. Do you know how many times we called out to you to come to heel, Pup?”

“I…No. No, Sir.”

“I asked you three times. Gaz asked you once before he had to take out the men that were on you. You did not ‘do your job’. You rushed ahead like a half crazed coyote and almost got yourself killed. And then what? What would I have told Ghost, hm?” Price growled, his breaths coming out fast and uneven. 

Your wet tail curled around you, scraggly strands drawing close to what little warmth was still in your body. It felt like you were growing colder by the second, frozen in Price’s icy stare. Your chest pumped feebly in order to keep your blood flow moving, though the way you were shaking you couldn’t be sure everything was working as it should. 

“I’m sorry, Sir,” you murmured, your whole body curling in on itself like a slinky. 

“I’m sorry doesn’t cut it. I told you when you started with us that I don’t want you taking risks that threaten your life. You’re not disposable to my team, not to me, not to Gaz or Soap, and especially not to Ghost. You don’t ever get to a point where you start blacking out and rampaging out of control like that again. You hear me? Never.”

The breath from your body felt as if it had been robbed from you. Every little gear in your mind ground to a halt and suddenly all the possibilities of what might happen next were spread out in front of you, playing in tandem and haunting you with the awful consequences of your actions. Would Price punish you? Remove you from the team? Send you away? Take you back to Branhaven. 

“Look at me, Pup.”

You looked up immediately as if controlled by him. Everything in you was now coded to answer to his every call and do everything he said while you still could. All instincts pointed to serving him well before he made any decision to get rid of you. To try and preserve yourself now that the fighting was done. You could see your own dark reflection staring back at you in his pupils, the wilting frame of your body frozen there in the inky blackness.

“We gave you this collar because we knew you’re a great soldier and because we knew how well you’d work with our team and because we wanted to make you ours. This collar means you’re 141 for life,” Price said, tugging on it for good measure. “Don’t sit there looking sorry for yourself like I’m gonna send you packing or treat you like your old superiors would’ve. I’d have hoped that you knew me better by now. C’mere, you little sod.”

You didn’t get much of a chance to react. Price drew you into his arms and perched his head on yours, fanning your ears with his hot breath. You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his hard frame and covering him with a soft outer layer of hybrid. Cigar smoke, bullet oil and musk be damned, his warmth and his scent felt heavenly on your senses. 

“What are we gonna do with you, ay? Bloody troublemaker.”

“I don’t mean to be,” you sniffed.

“Course you don’t. That’s why I’ve got a fitting punishment to get those tendencies in check.”

“Punishment?” you asked, stiffening in his arms. 

He drew back from you and nodded his head, not giving much away. He’d already told you he wasn’t going to treat you like your old superiors, but that didn’t do much to put you at ease. Just because you weren’t going to get a whipping, didn’t mean you were out of the woods. You had no idea what he had planned, searching his face dug up nothing. 

“Was on the phone to Ghost before I came to talk to you. We both agreed to set you up with a therapist. You’re getting a minimum of ten sessions booked in to start, and then after five we’re going to evaluate how many more you might need.”

You gawped at him, face going from a picture of worry and to one of indignant shock. A bloody therapist? That was his and Ghost’s big idea of a punishment? At that point you wondered if you might rather have one of your old punishments. What the hell were you going to say to a therapist? What were they going to say to you? Oh sorry your family abandoned you and left you to the proverbial wolves, maybe you’ll feel better if you talk about it. 

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I don’t know what a therapist is going to-”

“Don’t ‘sorry, Sir’ me and don’t you think for a second that you know better. You’re going and that’s final,” he said, tone so sharp that it cut off any room for argument. 

You gulped and suddenly were reminded of your place. Of your character. You were supposed to be meek and trying to grovel for forgiveness. All things considered, a few sessions of pretending to make emotional breakthroughs would probably be one of the easier challenges you’d have faced in your lifetime. 

“Ok…um…Sorry, Sir.”

“I think that’s enough sorries out of you, Pup,” he grumbled, ruffling his hands over your ears. “I think we’ve established how sorry you are. You can make it up to me by sorting your tail out and picking a bunkmate. Gaz is gonna come by with some food in a minute and then we’re all gonna get some sleep. You can talk to Ghost tomorrow.”

For yet another time you were left stunned. A bunkmate?

“A bunkmate?” You repeated out loud. 

“Only two beds,” Price said, as if you were stupid. “You can sleep with me or Gaz. I won’t be offended if you switch even after you’ve made my bed all wet.” 

Suddenly being faced with the choice of sharing a small bed with Price or Gaz after the conversation you’d just had and the conversation you’d had with Rudy earlier in the day was too much. Too much was happening to you! Where did life get off giving you the choices or lack thereof that it did? 

You must have looked a sight, staring into the dead air above the other bed like you’d seen a monster. On the one hand you figured that you could really use some comfort and the memory of how you felt after sleeping with Ghost was tamping your panic and convincing you that it would be ok, but on the other you were thinking about Rudy telling you to get it on with your teammates and that was bringing all sorts of embarrassing thoughts to light. How could you sleep next to them knowing that it might encourage those thoughts?

“I can just sleep on the floor, Price,” you said with what you hoped would be a convincing smile. “Done it plenty of times before.”

Price wasn’t having any of that. He paused at the bathroom door and fixed you with a tired stare. 

“Choose or I’ll choose for you.”

“No really, I can just use my bag as a pillow and-“

Price laughed dryly and shook his head. Looking at you like an incorrigible puppy. 

“Sleeping with me then. Sort that tail, eat your dinner when it comes and get into bed. Last thing I need is you complaining about your back while you’ve got that hip in bad enough shape.”

You watched him disappear into the bathroom with no less shock horror than when he presented the arrangement to you. All you could hear was Rudy’s taunting voice in your ear telling you that you could have any of your superiors if you just made your desires known. Which in turn helped break you from your shock. 

You started to wonder how Rudy and Alejandro started out together. Had they been like you and Ghost? Had Rudy come from a training facility and then luckily stuck with someone who loved him and who would foster that warmth and connection? Or maybe they knew each other before. Did Rudy do it for benefits and then it turned into more. 

You remembered some of the hybrids at your old base would trade sex for favours or contraband. The very thought of that made you want to vomit out all of your insides, especially when you thought of the humans at your old base. Fucking some of the hybrids was dire enough, only doing it to scratch each others itches when the need you felt grew to an explosive point. You’d never thought about doing out of genuine interest and attachment to another person before. Now it was all you could think about. 

“Wow, Price must’ve given you some talking to.”

You spun in place and faced Gaz, cheeks heating and ears flickering until you realised you’d been caught deep in your salacious thoughts. The room spun ever so slightly, but after getting a hold of yourself you remembered what Price had said and fixed your eyes on the trays that Gaz was holding. 

Right. Dinner. Tail. Sleep. 

“Hey,” you said lamely, sheepishly meeting Gaz’s eyes. 

“Hey, yourself,” he snorted. “You ok?” 

“Yeah, fine,” you muttered rather unconvincingly. “You?”

“Fine, Pup. I didn’t get told off by the captain,” he winked. “And I already had my dinner. You should eat as well, might give you some life back in that sorry face.”

He went to set your tray down next to you and you gratefully thanked him while looking over the contents. It was exactly what you needed. Some kind of beef stew brimming with sauce and vegetables with a big bar of chocolate for after and a bottle of water to wash it all down. You breathed it in as if you could inhale it, the fresh smell making your mouth water. 

“What the hell? We need whoever the cook is here to transfer back with us. This looks fucking good.”

Gaz laughed at that. 

“Tastes fucking good too. Should eat up.”

You shook your head and picked up your brush. 

“Gotta sort this before I get Price’s bed any wetter. Should probably try to get back on his good side,” you said, already navigating the half dried tangles. 

“I don’t think he’ll care much. I’ve seen that man fall asleep standing in the rain. Bit of water on his bed won’t make a difference to him,” Gaz shrugged.

You laughed at that, but didn’t let it deter you from your work. It wasn’t like you were only concerned for the bed. The longer you took to get the last of your tail unfurled, the more painful it would be to tug out the dry knots. It felt therapeutic to tackle each tangle one by one anyway, brought a sense of calm to you while you worked. 

“What did the big man say anyway?”

“Hm?” You hummed back, not really hearing what he said. 

“Price. You looked like you were about to have a fit before I came in.”

You paused what you were doing and looked up at him with an arched brow. He arched his own back and to that you could only roll your eyes. 

“Nosy.”

“Got a right to be. Saved your life, you have to do whatever I say now.”

“Oh really?” You asked, seething as you hit a bad snag in your tail. 

“Really. Now tell me what he said,” Gaz demanded, voice higher with his amusement. 

You sighed and finally tackled the tough section you were working on, lobbing the big furball you pulled into the bin underneath the bedside table. Once that was done you looked over at Gaz. 

“He told me that I have to go do therapy,” you said with a screwed up expression. 

“Oof,” Gaz said, pursing his lips as he tried not to laugh. “I can see why you looked so serious then. Truly, it’s the harshest of punishments he could’ve come up with, that cruel old bastard. Just think of the battle scars you’ll come out with. Fucking hell, you’ll never come back the same.”

“You’re so funny.”

“I am. It doesn’t matter how much you say I’m not. I know that I’m hilarious.”

“You’re an idiot,” you said, finishing the last bit of your tail. 

“An idiot that saved your life,” he smiled. “Idiot.”

You grinned and finally put down your brush so that you could go get the hairdryer. Instead of engaging any more in the silly fake argument, you got to work finishing off the drying process, taking a minute to sweep the dryer over your tail and fill your ears with white noise.

Once it was done, your tail was fluffy and warm, all ready for a good nights sleep. After you ate your stew of course. Now that Gaz was settled back on his bed and scrolling through his phone you were left to get to work on your last task. You picked up your tray and got ready to greedily scoff down the heavenly bowl in front of you. 

Just as you were picking up your fork and digging into your first bite the shower in the bathroom turned off again. You flicked your ears at the sound but didn’t think to pay it much mind. Instead you enjoyed your first bite, savouring the salty spicy beef and soft veg that was the perfect amount of juicy and crunchy. It was enough to make your eyes close all of their own accord. 

You opened them again when the bathroom door opened, immensely grateful you’d already swallowed that bite you took before you choked. Price came out in only a towel, the wet sheet of fabric commendably doing everything it could to cling to the ridges of his muscled hips and soft belly. His chest and arm hair was speckled with water droplets and the top of his head was all fluffy after it was presumably roughed over with the towel. 

Suddenly you’d completely forgotten what you were supposed to be doing. Your big round eyes were too busy roving all over Price. Every hair, every muscle, every scar that he had laid bare and available to you. In fact so much so that you were only broken out of it because Gaz cleared his throat and looked pointedly at you. 

“Good stew, Pup?” He quipped, shooting you a sly grin. 

You cleared your own throat and hid your eyes in the food, not trusting yourself to look at either of the other men in the room. 

“Yeah, yeah good. Thanks, Gaz,” you muttered, shovelling another bit in without tasting it this time. 

“You get some for me?” Price asked, busy combing his fingers through his hair over at the mirror. 

“Yeah, your tray’s just there on the table, Cap.” 

“Good man,” Price replied.

Just as you were sure that you might get over whatever it was that had come over you, you heard his towel dropping. Your ears, your tail, your heart stopped in place. Your eyes flicked up to the pale slopes of his ass before they shot right back down to your food again and felt as if they might just keep going and roll out of your head. Why did you even look up in the first place? 

You were sure the next bite of stew would be the end of you. But you could’ve face anyone asking why you’d stopped eating and you sure as hell didn’t want to think of some other way to distract yourself, so you forced down another bite and lost yourself to the rhythm of your raving heart. 

Luckily for you Price stuck his boxers on and then a pair of his own sweats, leaving his chest bare before he dried himself. He had the dryer on for a couple minutes after that, but you didn’t dare look at him beyond what filled your periphery, little flashes of him fluffing at his hair or running the dryer over his arms and chest. 

Soon enough the ordeal was done. He came over to sit by you and shovelled his food down with very little grace. He ate so fast that you both finished at the same time. The sound of his heavy breathing and Gaz turning the shower back on for himself were soon the only sounds in the room. 

“Ready for sleep?” He asked, raising his big damp brows at you. 

“Uh…I think so.”

“Good.”

That was all he said. No warning, no precursor to what he did next.

He stuck both your trays on the table and yanked the covers back, sweeping you under them with him, pulling you close to his chest until you were flush to his body. The smell of the cheap soap did little to diminish his natural scent as it wove itself around you. The sound of his booming chest filled your ears and soon you were both lying there in the stillness as if what was happening was normal. 

“Shouldn’t we turn the light off or…” you trailed nervously. 

“Gaz’ll need it, Pup. Just close your eyes, he’ll turn it off when he’s done,” Price rumbled, his entire voice trickling over you like hot honey. 

“Oh, yeah right… it’s just-“

“Pup,” Price groaned. “Anymore out of you and I’ll double your minimum amount of therapy sessions. Shut up, shut your eyes and go to sleep.”

Well there was no arguing with that. Though part of you wondered if you’d need more therapy just from that night alone. You huffed at the thought and finally settled against him, annoyed enough with his bluntness that you were able to see past his naked body and the bullet holes that speckled his left arm. You were only barely thinking about how much you wanted to paw at him at that point, grumpy and content enough to fold yourself into the sheets and close your eyes just as he’d asked. 

The sound of running shower water accompanied you into your dreams. Just as you’d figured it was going to be a long night, you floated off to Price’s faint snores and Gaz’s shower. Finally too tried to think anymore, or worry about what Gaz would see once he got out of the shower.

[jinxed-thylacine]

I made my first avatar look as close to a chicken as I could get and ever since I've wished there was a mod that turned Eggman into Colonel Sanders.

My favorite avatar species is the wolf one though, pretty sure the ability to draw items towards you is what got me multiple S ranks because of the additional amount of rings you can collect in hard mode lmao

Thanks for the anonymously submitted poll!

Polling Sonic Fans for their opinions on all manner of things. Share good questions to indicate what you want asked. Submissions open.

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Young President!Coriolanus Snow x First Lady Wife!Reader

It's no secret that your marriage to your husband, President Coriolanus Snow, is an arranged one. Your father, Colonel Javani Halvir, just happened to be bestfriends with his father, General Crassus Snow, so of course the families had drafted up a marriage contract for the two of you. A contract that was made when you were still little kids.

Of course, when you came of age you got married. The engagement was actually a long one, considering Coriolanus wanted to wait until he graduated the University to get married. You didn't mind tho since it meant you were able to get to know him better due to the longer courtship.

Despite his cold and stoic demeanor, Coriolanus was a really nice man to you. And as time went by he became more and more enchanted with you- well, despite claiming to never love again he truly did fall madly and obsessively in love with you. He always made sure to show you his love and devotion too, whether that be by showering you with gifts or kisses. Whether that be by making sweet love to you or passionately fucking your brains out. But, Coriolanus Snow always made sure that you knew how much you meant to him. Both before and after you said ‘I do’.

But a lot of your so-called ‘friends’, the socialites and wives of other political elites and friends of your husband, would often make little remarks about how awful it must be being married to President Snow since he's such a cold, stoic, hard, hateful, ruthless man. Despite these women being afraid of your husband, they still talked shit about him. And in places they knew you'd overhear too, like in the lady's room at galas, balls, tea parties, etc.

And this afternoon you came home from a charity luncheon for Doctor's Saving Districts very distraught. When your personal maid took a seat next to you on the sofa in your sitting room and asked, “First Lady Y/N, what's the matter? Wasn't the charity luncheon nice?”, you burst into hysterical tears.

“Oh, Beatrice, it was horrible. Completely horrible.” You cry, causing your personal maid to just give you a questioning look. “My friends were gossiping about me and my husband in the bathroom; they said such horrible things.”

“What did they say, First Lady Y/N?” Bianca, your personal maid and friend in the Presidential Palace, asked while wrapping her arms around you, pulling you into a hug.

“That it must be horrible being married to the president since he's such a cold, stern, stoic man.” You told your maid the exact words you heard Livia Heavensbee nee Cardew tell your friend Megara in the ladies room this afternoon.

Before Bianca could say any words of sympathy to you, you begin to break down and cry. “They assume he's a cold and hateful husband when he's not. And they think I'm miserable when I'm happy with him.”

Unknown to you, Coriolanus has finished his meeting earlier than expected and decided to pay you a visit in the living quarters of the Presidential Palace to inquire about the charity luncheon you attended today. Your husband was very proud of you for being such an avid philanthropist. Your kind heart and sunshine disposition made your inner beauty rival that of your putter beauty; it made the president love you even more than he thought possible.

So, when Coriolanus walks into the sitting room only to be met with the sight of your crying, crumpled form being held by your personal maid and friend, he's very concerned. But when he hears your sob ridden voice hiccup, “My friends assume that Coryo doesn't love me because of his proper and stern disposition he displays in public and it hurts. But what hurts more is that they assume I'm miserable in a loveless marriage, Bianca.”

Hearing you say that breaks President Snow’s heart and pisses him off too. How dare the high society women of Capitol City, Panem pretend to be your friends only to gossip behind your back; say blatant lies about your relationship? Who do those useless socialite whores think they are? Making his wife cry? Slandering his personality and his love for you?

Those Capitolite bitches need to pay and he knows just the perfect way to make them do that. Oh yes, he's going to make them pea green with envy at the next gala (which is at the end of the week for the Doctors Saving Districts charity) by being the perfect doting husband to you.

“Those women are just jealous fools, First Lady Y/N. It's clear as day to the entire palace staff that President Coriolanus loves you very much; in fact, those women must be wearing blinders if they can't see how much you mean to your husband.” Bianca tells you in a very supportive and friendly tone.

“I doubt it. My husband's not one for PDA, so there's no true way for my friends to see that he’s not a hateful, cold hearted bastard.” You sniffle, pulling away from your maid and wiping your eyes.

How dare those women call him a hateful, cold hearted bastard towards his wife? Well, he just happens to know that despite being sweethearts with Persephone, Festus is currently cheating on her with not one, but two mistresses. And your friend Megara, well he has it on good authority that her husband, who's a lobbyist for a politician that opposes the president, is having an affair with his driver.

Hmm, these women think that their husbands love them so much because they hang on them in public, but that's far from the truth. Their husbands are putting on a show, an elaborate act, for everyone.

It's an act that Coriolanus never felt the need to put on because he's faithful to you, loves you with his entire being, and doesn't feel the need to ‘prove’ his devotion to you. But now he needs to be a better husband in public than the men your ‘friends’ are married to.

Coriolanus is determined to show you off at the gala in a few days. Make you feel like the most loved and adored woman in all of Panem.

The president decides to back out of the room and let you cry with Bianca, your trusted maid and friend, in privacy. He’ll come back later when he knows your tears are dried and your makeup’s fixed to ask about your charity luncheon. Coriolanus doesn't want to embarrass you by letting you know that he overheard your tearful breakdown about your relationship being labeled a cold loveless one.

When Saturday night rolled around your husband, President Snow, took you to the charity gala for Doctors Saving Districts. You two looked like the epitome of a regal couple- him with his dark burgundy suit and crisp white shirt, complete with ruby cufflinks, and you in your white strappy ball gown with dangling ruby and diamond earrings, ruby and diamond choker, and ruby and diamond tennis bracelet. His platinum blonde hair was slicked back in its signature pompadour while yours was pinned in an elegant half-updo. And to top it all off, you wore matching white roses. His white rose was on his lapel while your white roses were tucked into your half updo- making your silky hair pop beautifully.

All of the men secretly wish that you’re hanging on their arms instead of on your husband's. The men envied Coriolanus for being your husband. One would think men would covet his presidential position, but that wasn't the case.

No...

In fact, you're the most beautiful lady in the Capitol according to the murmurs amongst the elite and wealthy men. Hell, if you'd give them a second look they'd drop their wives faster than a hot potato. But that'll never happen because you only have eyes for your husband, President Coriolanus Snow.

And the cold, stoic, stern, ruthless Mister President only has eyes for you as well. And because of that, he's not letting you leave his side tonight. President Coriolanus Snow is going to show you off; dote on you so much that the socialites of the Capitol will be astonished, envious, and will never utter a slanderous lie against him as your husband ever again.

“There's Hilarious and Livia Heavensbee.” Coriolanus subtly pointed out the miserable looking couple as they bickered by the punch bowl. “Shall we go over and say hello, darling?”

After overhearing Livia and Megara’s hurtful gossip about your husband being unloving to you the other day, well, you didn't want to be around her. But your husband's the president and he's old classmates with the Heavensbees, so you understand why he suggested approaching them to strike up polite conversation. Coriolanus had to portray himself as a polite and charming creature to ensure that he kept his top political position.

Although only Capitol citizens are eligible to vote, a vote for presidential terms is held every handful of years. So, your husband has to play nice with the other Capitolite elite.

And you?

Well…

You need to be the epitome of a perfect wife and a perfect First Lady. Which, unknown to you, Coriolanus feels that you've far exceeded his expectations for you in that department.

“Yes, let's say hello to them.” You nod, a thin smile on your face, as an Avox comes over holding a tray full of champagne.

Coriolanus grabs two flutes of champagne, one for each of you, and dismisses the Avox. Handing you your drink, he takes a sip of his. Once your fingers are daintily wrapped around the champagne flute, your husband's large hand rests on the small of your back as he guides you over to Hilarious and Livia Heavensbee.

“Hilarious,” Coriolanus greets his former Academy acquaintance with a nod. Turning to Livia, who he's always hated, but hates ten fold now because of how she made you cry, your husband puts on a fake smile and greets her, “Livia, I believe you attended the charity luncheon with my wife, Y/N, this past Wednesday.”

Livia Heavensbee nee Cardew looked every inch a fine socialite in her black evening gown and black sheer gloves, but she couldn't hold a candle to you. In fact, her husband's sneaking glances at you while President Snow caresses your back as you're tucked into his side, sipping on champagne.

Mrs. Heavensbee is a bit surprised by your husband's hand stroking up and down your spine. She's also shocked that you're tucked into the president’s side; looking every bit like a woman being doted on by a loving husband.

It can't be so, can it? Coriolanus is a cold, hard, unfeeling, stern, ruthless man. How can he be a doting husband to you? It doesn't make sense to Livia.

No sense to her at all.

“Yes, we attended the charity luncheon together.” Livia confirms, all the while her eyes are glued to the way President Coriolanus Snow’s hand comes to rest on your hip- thumb pressing circles into the white fabric of your dress's bodice.

Not letting the Heavensbees get a word in, Coriolanus brags about your kind disposition. “My darling rose is quite the philanthropist. She heads so many charities and I couldn't be prouder of her for it.” Coriolanus bends down slightly, since he towers over you, and pecks you on the cheek. “Y/N is the perfect epitome of a true First Lady.” Turning to you, he asks in the loving baritone he reserves only for you, “Aren't you, baby?”

“Coryo, you flatter me more than I deserve.” You humbly counter. “I’m not that perfect.”

“See, not a vain bone in my wife's body to even take credit for all the work she does; for being the perfect embodiment of what a Capitolite lady should strive to be.” Coriolanus proudly told Hilarious and Livia while moving his hand up to caress your shoulder. Turning to Hilarious, he asks, “How's business been, old friend?”

“Business is business, as usual.” Hilarious flatly replied, earning him a nod from President Snow.

“Well, as much as I'd like to stick around and discuss your business, I must take my wife to greet some other friends.” The regal president tells the inferior couple, who don't even have matching outfits on, before dragging you away.

Livia’s livid as she sees your husband's hand slide down to pinch your ass while the two of you head towards where your friend Megara's at. Never did Livia think that President Coriolanus Snow could be so doting on you. Why won't her husband caress her or goose her in public? It's not fair!

But, in Hilarious’ defense, he didn't love the dirty blonde shrew. He got stuck with her via an arranged marriage. The ancestor of the founding father of Panem and the heiress of the largest bank in not just Capitol City, but all of Panem, was a very smart match. It just never produced any love, but they did have a son. Plutarch. But they never talked about him.

“I'm surprised you're leading us over to Megara and her cousin Hera. I thought you didn't like them?” You ask your husband as your ‘friends' got into range.

Leaning down, Coryo's breath is hot against his ear as he whispers, “I don't like them, darling, but tonight I'll deal with their useless chatter in order to greet them with you, my love.”

“As nice as it is having you greet my friends with me, Coryo, you're the President of Panem and need to greet high ranking politicians and allies of your own accord.”

“You forget, baby, that you're my First Lady so you're able to be by my side as I greet allies, foes pretending to be allies, and business contacts.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you're going to be extra needy tonight?” You ask your husband in a whisper only he can hear.

Coriolanus icy eyes twinkle mischievously as he says, “Perhaps your beauty has overwhelmed my senses and I want my beautiful wife by my side tonight.” His hot breath tickles your ear as he huskily adds in, “And I want you to ride my cock for hours tonight, my love. For hours upon hours, til I'm too sensitive to get hard and your womb’s overflowing with my seed.”

You're speechless as your husband stops you right in front of your friends Megara and Hera. He greets them with the charming sophistication only Coriolanus possesses from a lifetime of selling snake oil and lies. And just like before, he sings your praises and caresses you in a way that has your ‘friends' seething in silent jealousy.

In fact, Coriolanus does it all night long- dote on you in such a way that every female in the room’s beyond jealous. And when he notices that the Capitolite ladies are visibily shaken by his displays of love and affection towards, he knows that he's won; that his mission to show everyone that you're very well loved and cared for by him- President Coriolanus Snow, has worked.

Oh, and when the Presidential Palace's PR team makes an announcement exactly one month later about how President Coriolanus Snow and First Lady Y/N Snow are expecting their first child, well, nobody at the gala's surprised. Far from it considering how much of a doting husband Coriolanus was to you that night.

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

[pandorafallz]

You know, I was searching the web for Na'vi hair styles for my Alma fic i have going for inspiration but than i found more than expectation so...

it seems right to fill the Frointers of Pandora tag with these beauties.

The author links are below to check out and such and please do if you haven't already; it's a must for BTS stuff of the game.

So'lek!! bc you don't see much with his chest gear on! Hot.

Eetu for you thirsty birds

Alma!!! my fav character. Again, you don't see skin around her neck bc she has that neck scalf Did you see the scar on her right cheek under her eye? Where did that come from?

Also, what colour would you call her eyes? I'd say brown but there's an odd contract to them. Were they going for a light brown?

Here's some Colonel Harding with all her scars. Kinda hot, even if she's a horrible person. This under-the-collar stuff is kinda useful for my fics tho 😉

Also, i really like her eyes! Such a dark blue which you don't see as often on poc characters. Maybe it's a recessive gene that's active in her character's Lore?

Honestly, i'm glad to see more of Nesim's neck bc it's hard when trying to do any art with her, finding the proportions of her neck with her Zeswa collared chest guard... painful.

Also... she's stunning! Minang too!

You know, I hate Nor's headpiece with a severe passion. I personally don't think it suits him; far too big. If it was smaller, it'd be fine but it covers up most of his head. Plus, he's not a clan leader so it's odd.

So i threw that in so you see what Nor looks like without that decor!

Link to Artist's Page/Blog; the artist did the hair styles for FoP

[meatincorporated-2]

horrible super colonel sergent/father beats a mario level for his kids and their boyfriend/donut

based on this pic :pp

[hxltic]

if you’re writing , pls do konig x reader and the reader is a cry baby

Cry baby as in like sexually?? i got you

König is horrible at teasing you, frankly because he gives in himself. Never has he slapped the tip along your folds, or made you grind on him to ruffle your own mental—but today, he has brought you to your breaking point. all you’ve wanted all day was him.

He finally returns to you, and the first thing you did was hug him around the neck. Both your legs swung up to the top of his hips so he could carry you away. Once ridden of the day and full to his stomach, König finds you in the bedroom in all your needy glory, pleading for him but unwilling to disturb his peace or alone time after the day’s mission.

He teased like never before. Even going as far to play with your dripping pussy with his big fingers, dipping it into the wetness and rolling it around your clit. You don’t know what made you this way, and you were excited at just the thought of your mysterious hunk of a man coming home to you.

But not this. You begged and waited (impatiently) for his gratitude. He flattened his tongue so you could grind on the warm sensation, but with each hand under your knee on display for him, it literally wasn’t possible to move because of his strength. At this point you were so frustrated you probably could cry.

“Kö please, what did I do? I w-won’t do it again I swear,” you attempt, asking for forgiveness at you don’t even know what. Truthfully you hadn’t done anything wrong, but even after given colonel position, you’re still the only one he feels genuinely in charge of like this. He never thought he cared until the high he got from hearing you whine for him came along. You don’t want anyone else. Just him.

On that thought, once he inserted himself, his pace was unbelievably slow. König never prided himself on his self-control but he knew his size, and had he went any faster you would’ve came on the spot.

“‘m sorry, faster please,” you tried again. “I’ve been waiting for you all day!” Already on the verge of tears as your nails dig crescents into his muscled back, when he finally gives you what you want, you lose your mind.

Nothing was slow. Almost a signification of flipping the switch, he throws you over to your stomach effortlessly. He spreads your legs and brings you to your elbows with your ass in the air, then splits you open. It doesn’t take long before your hips start to bruise.

“Wait wait-“ König hears faintly, but he knows that’s far from what you want. He was correct because you cum immediately after. He feeds off the sight of your ass bouncing and rippling off him. His only responses are grunts.

“It’s what you wanted right,” his accent still thick and releasing words he wouldn’t even think of saying regularly, “you waited all day for this?”

Now deep in you and the ecstasy, it’s like you’ve switched roles. He technically was edging himself too. He was rock hard and heavy through his pants, all at your pretty voice and begs.

Soon apologies start flying out of his mouth, you being almost too lost in the euphoria to hear them at all. “Liebling, you feel so good-I’m not sure if I can stop now.”

“Kö you’re gonna-“ is all that comes out in your short breaths.

He replies, “I won’t, I won’t liebe,” as if he knows what you’re going to say, even though he doesn’t. He’s not thinking about much right now. As if to make what you were going to say worse, he lifts your shoulders and grabs your breasts to hold you up and crane you back, your hair falling between the two of you and your head to his neck.

The new position calls for a different spot inside of you and he’s lucky he hasn’t short circuited.

“…break me…half,” is all he heard. He’s too lost at your slick cunt gripping him tight, to hear the sniffles. He does look down though, and spots a tear about to fall down the path of the others. The only reason it doesn’t is because you’re basically upside down.

“I’m sorry,” is all he can say, and despite how sweet he is, it doesn’t sound genuine. Especially not after his hips chase into your entrance like it’s heaven.

“König, cum, again,” you choke out beside a sob, but König is in too much pleasure to feel bad.

“Huh,” he questions. It doesn’t come out as such; more like he’s physically present but isn’t actually asking.

“I’m cumming,” you repeat, and not long after do you hiccup.

There’s a second of silence, then, “I know,” he glances down in pity and bliss. “Your smile is hard to beat but this is far better.”

He never thought he’d like to see you cry, which he doesn’t, but sexually seems to be a different story. They were steaming now, just before your eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, and tighten around him, eliciting a deep groan.