#Black ops cw

[artistcalledbella]

a job to do

edit: made this a print!

[tomialtooth]

[strawberrylemongrass]

Long time no post, but here's me as Bell and a friend as Adler!

[anime-potato-san]

Bell is definitely a people-pleaser.

Regardless of if it’s for Adler/The team or Perseus, Bell is desperate to please them, do to anything they ask. Anything that gets asked of them, Bell does them. Take when we confront Volkov, either we kill him like Adler ask, or we do what Park asks and capture him. And during Break on Through, though you can definitely troll him which is hilarious, and I highly suggest doing so at least once, Bell does everything Adler says to do.

Though we don't know much about what they were like with Perceus, Bell was Perceus' favorite operative, they definitely did everything he asked.

I think Bell being a people-pleaser is almost tragic in a way. They did everything to please the people they saw as above them, people they cared about, yet in the end, they didn't matter to them.

Thank God fanfiction exist because I can make Bell happy.

As I traumatize her by having her die over and over.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Stop arguing over Adbell. We’ve done this for what feels like hundreds of times before. This entire controversy could be avoided if everyone remembered the golden rule of all fan fiction and fandom space.

Don’t like, don’t read.

It’s that simple. If you think it’s mischaracterizing a character, straying too far from canon, straight up a self insert, cool, nobody, and especially not the authors, deserve to have their hard work invalidated and insulted. Get over it, and stop whining in fandom spaces about it like a toddler with no emotional regulation.

And yes, this includes those passive aggressive posts about people giving their “opinion” on Adbell only to obviously dog on somebody’s work.

I’m all for sharing your opinion, but not when it hurts fandom space, and you’re only using it as a tool to make yourself feel morally superior for adhering to whatever mental rules you’ve placed on the ship, because frankly, I don’t care, and nobody else should either.

So please, for the love of fan fiction and artwork and all of Adbell in this fandom, learn to shut your mouth when you don’t have anything kind to say.

[makeila04]

Black Ops Boys and how I realistically have a relationship with:

Ok, ok, I saw this idea from @quizzyisdone and @softcallofdutyimagines, so, even though no one asked me, I also want to do my version of Black Ops Boys and how I realistically have a relationship with them.

Alex Mason: Well, honestly, I don’t think I could be his girlfriend or anything. Sorry, I’d be scared. I’ve been with people with mental health issues before, and I have a strong limit and fear around that. I completely understand it wasn’t his fault, but I’m sorry. HOWEVER, I could definitely be his friend. I love helping, and he strikes me as one of the kindest and gentlest of the group. He’s already a father, but that doesn’t bother me. I couldn’t be David’s stepmom, but I could be like the cool aunt. I love him; the Masons give me such warm feelings.

4/10 (Couldn’t have a relationship, but we’d have a nice friendship.)

Frank Woods: Honestly, he wouldn’t be my first choice, but I wouldn’t rule out falling for him. Maybe at first, we’d clash a lot, but with some common ground, we could gradually connect. I’m not a fan of burgers, but I’d definitely go out to eat with him or have burgers sitting on the car in some deserted spot at night. If he likes cleaning guns or something, I’d help him, ask questions, and if he lets me, I’d even assist. I love how direct and honest he is because I’m the same way. The good thing is that I could trust him from minute one because of this. I love his rugged style, so despite initial differences, we could definitely click. He probably smells like strong deodorant, strong cologne, or maybe even sweat sometimes—love that. You’d probably find him lifting weights or something, but I could sit nearby while he works out or does anything. A recurring plan would definitely be going to a bar at night, which I love, by the way. Sometimes I feel like he’s too rude or childish, but I think I have enough tolerance for that. Also, your sex life with him would be super active, but maybe exhausting—maybe too rough or passionate, but he knows what he’s doing. He’d treat you well for sure, a god in bed, though maybe rough or very much his own way. I’d love to hug him and cuddle with him anywhere. I love his beard, by the way, and his humor.

8.5/10 (I don’t have many complaints, but I feel like the beginning might be tough.)

Russell Adler: On the contrary, maybe unlike many, I feel like he’s the one I’d get along with best. Maybe because he and my dad are both ENTJs… and seriously, I played BO6 often predicting his dialogue or actions just because it’s the same thing my dad would do. I feel like I could handle him well and without issues. I’m quite introverted, and the fact that he’s extroverted makes me fall for him even more. I understand that he probably isn’t 100% the same guy we see in the games (since we see him working and in high-risk situations), but he’d probably be calmer in real life. I do think he’d be a VERY possessive boyfriend, but honestly, I wouldn’t have a problem with that. Mind you, I don’t think he’d get jealous because you have friends—Adler is too self-assured at 54 to worry about that. But he’d definitely be VERY protective, maybe because of you, maybe because of his work and everything he’s been through. Again, I don’t have a problem with that. I don’t think it would be an easy relationship, precisely because of everything he’s been through (divorce, MK-Ultra, betrayal multiple times, etc.), but I’ve got my own baggage too, so I’d try to remind him that we’re a team and support each other. I also think that, at least because of my age, the relationship would be more like a sugar daddy situation. If you see something you like, you get it—no doubt. He’d also give you gifts for any reason or just because something reminded him of you. Also, like with Woods, I feel like the sex life would be super active, especially because I’m young (and inexperienced). I feel like if I told him that, it would only make him more possessive and maybe even more into me because of the age difference. A god in bed, no doubt. Seriously, I feel like if you win this man over, he’d find the age difference more attractive than anyone else.

10/10 (Honestly, I love him. And me being an INTJ, ENTJs are my weakness.)

Jason Hudson: Honestly, I think he’s a know-it-all, which generally isn’t my type… but I’m very curious, so even though I feel like he’s calmer than ALL the others, that also has its own charm for me, in his own way. I imagine if I were his girlfriend, I’d be sitting on his lap while he’s in his home office or something, hugging him. I don’t think he’d be the most passionate; I feel like he’s more focused on his work. But like with Adler, I prefer that and men who are focused on their work, as long as they don’t smother me. So for Adler and Hudson, that’s a plus for me. I don’t think he’d be the most passionate, but he definitely wouldn’t say no some nights… if he doesn’t overwork himself. I also think he tries to take care of his sleep. He’d probably treat you super well, and he’s definitely a walking encyclopedia who knows practically everything and has an answer for everything. I don’t think he’d lose his cool over any problem you have—he’s used to MUCH more stressful things. I do think he has a lot of patience, but he’s way too serious.

7/10 (If you like more serious men and dating someone who’s probably the boss both at work and at home, then he’s great. But maybe he’s too serious for me. I’d give him extra points if we were friends, but as a boyfriend, I think it’d be more complicated sometimes.)

Grigori Weaver: Honestly, I love him. I share a lot of traumas and fears with Weaver (I don’t want to go too deep into personal stuff, but let’s say I relate way too much). I think if he fell in love with me and stopped being a womanizer, it’d be the best. The issue is that at first, it’d be hard for me to trust him in a relationship because, well, he’s a womanizer. Keep in mind I also don’t have much experience. My fear would be being just another name on his list, but honestly, Weaver hasn’t been a womanizer by choice. In his case, I think even if he wanted a stable relationship, his life just didn’t allow it.

Still, if I were his girlfriend, I’d probably spend all day sitting on his lap while he works or does something. I heard he’s a good mechanic, so I’d be by his side if he’s fixing a car or something, asking him what he’s doing and how it works. I’d love to hug him all day, whether in bed, on the couch, in a chair—whatever. I don’t care; I love hugs, and I know Weaver loves them too, even if he’d never ask for one. I’m very much into physical touch, and I love his beard (I’m obsessed with Weaver in Black Ops 6, what can I say?), so I’d spend all day touching it—his beard, his hair, everything about him. I love cooking, and I’d love to cook some traditional Soviet dish for him.

It’d be a challenge, but I’d do it, though it’d be better if I had direct help—I’d make him help me, haha. I notice Weaver has a lot of trauma, and sometimes it’s hard for him to express it, especially if no one listens. But as someone who’s had the same issue for years, I’d try to help him and encourage him to move forward, even though losses hurt and we can’t make the pain go away, we can make it bearable together. Seriously, this guy is extremely loyal and kind—he even set Woods up on a date. Do you think this guy wouldn’t do anything for me if I were his girlfriend? He’s desperate for a genuine, real human connection. Imagine how he’d be if he got it.

He’s been saving Maxis since 1979 until 1991—this guy is loyal and perseverant. I also think because of all this, he’s very protective, and you already know I love that.I don’t think he’d be as intense sexually in terms of frequency, maybe compared to Adler or Woods, but this guy definitely has a master’s degree in sex. He’d do anything to me; the question would be whether I could handle it or not, and honestly, I’m scared to answer that myself. If you enjoy sex with him, that’s for sure, but I don’t think he’d brag about it. I also don’t think the age difference would bother him—in fact, I don’t think he’d even think about it. He wouldn’t care

10/10 (I feel like we’d fit really well and be super sweet together.) (Hopefully, we’d work through our traumas together.)

Lazar: Seeing how he treated Park in Cold War, I feel like he’d overwhelm me a lot at first. It’d be hard for me to fall for him quickly, no matter how charming he is. Yes, I like him; yes, I’m physically attracted to him; yes, I love that because of his size, he’s a GIANT BEAR FULL OF HAIR; and yes, I like his personality. It’s just that being so intense is a downside for someone like me. Maybe he’s just not my type, and that’s it. Also, way too extroverted for my taste—I have limits, sorry.

If I saw him in person, I’d first get lost in his eyes, then become aware of how small I am next to him, and while that would excite me, it’d also intimidate me, haha. Even though I don’t think he’s as much of a womanizer as Weaver, I do feel like he wouldn’t be too committed unless he wanted to be. Nope, you can’t change him. So maybe if you want something more casual and without commitment, you’d like him more. Again, he’s not my type for a formal relationship. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy it, haha. I do think he’d be overly sweet or maybe demand too much of my attention, which would drive me crazy. I feel like he’d be very sweet both in and out of bed, and he’d probably give you gifts or take you out on dates often—very tender.

5.7/10 (If you’re looking for something casual and a guy who’s VERY attentive to you, he’d probably be more your type. Unfortunately, not mine.)

+Bonus

William Peck: I always hated him in Cold War but in Black Ops 6 I honestly like him (I'm still waiting for a backstab but ok). He has a shitty character that I barely tolerate but ironically that makes me laugh. He's too smart and conceited. I usually get irritated by know-it-alls BUT at the same time that about Peck and his humor makes me like him. I wouldn't be his girlfriend for anything, but if he asked me out on a date I would definitely accept. Who knows, it could even be fun. Specially if you're interested in spending 2 hours listening to someone like a fucking living podcast. I would honestly love to challenge him intellectually.

I wouldn't have sex with him even if they paid me.

______________________________________________________________

Ok ok, le vi esta idea a @quizzyisdone y a @softcallofdutyimagines asi que, aunque nadie me preguntó, yo también quiero hacer mi versión de Black Ops Boys and how I realistically have a relationship with

Alex Mason: bueno, honestamente no creo que pudiera ser su novia o algo. Perdón, me daría miedo, he estado con gente con problemas mentales antes y tengo un límite muy fuerte y miedo. Entiendo completamente que no fue su culpa, pero lo siento. PERO si que sin duda podría ser su amiga. Me encanta ayudar, además se me hace de los más amables y gentiles, ya es padre pero no me molesta. No podría ser madrastra de David pero si como esa tía cool. Lo amo, me dan ternura los Mason. 

4/10 (no podría tener una relación pero sí una linda amistad)

Frank Woods: Honestamente no sería mi primera opción pero no descartaría que pudiera enamorarme de él. Tal vez al inicio choquemos demasiado, pero con cosas en común podríamos ir conectando poco a poco. No soy fan de las hamburguesas pero podría ir a comer con él sin duda o comer hamburguesas sentados sobre el auto en alguna noche y descampado. Si le gusta limpiar armas o algo podría ayudarlo, curiosear y preguntar y si me deja hasta ayudar. Amo que sea tan directo y honesto porque soy igual, lo bueno es que podría confiar en él desde el minuto uno por esto. Amo su estilo rudo así que sin duda, a pesar de diferencias iniciales, podríamos congeniar. Seguramente huele a desodorante fuerte, perfume fuerte o tal vez hasta sudor algunas veces, amo.

Seguro lo encuentras haciendo pesas o algo pero podría sentarme cerca mientras hace ejercicio o cualquier cosa. Seguramente un plan recurrente sea ir a algún bar de noche, plan que amo por cierto. A veces siento que es muy grosero o infantil pero creo que tengo la suficiente tolerancia. Además que tu vida sexual con él sería mega activa, pero tal vez agotadora, tal vez muy rudo o pasional pero sabe lo que hace, te trataría bien sin duda, un dios en la cama aunque tal vez rudo o muy a su manera. Amaría abrazarlo y estar con él acurrucada donde sea, amo su barba por cierto y su humor.

8.5/10 (No tengo muchas quejas, solo siento que podría costar el inicio)

Russell Adler: Al contrario, tal vez, que muchos, yo siento que sería con el que mejor podría congeniar. Tal vez porque él y mi padre sean ENTJ… y en serio, jugué BO6 adelantandome muchas veces a sus diálogos o acciones solamente porque es lo mismo que haría mi papá. Siento que con esto podría sobrellevarlo bien y sin problema. Soy bastante introvertida y que él sea extrovertido hace que me enamore más. Entiendo que seguramente no sea al 100% el mismo tipo que vemos en los juegos (porque ahí lo vemos trabajando y situaciones de riesgo) pero seguramente sería más tranquilo. Si creo que sería un novio MUY posesivo pero honestamente no tendría problema, ojo, no creo que se ponga celoso porque tienes amigos, Adler es muy seguro de sí mismo como para preocuparse por eso a los 54 años. Lo que sí también sería MUY protector, tal vez por ti, tal vez por su trabajo y todo lo que ha vivido, repito, yo no tengo problema con eso. No creo que fuera a ser una relación fácil, justamente por todo lo vivido (divorcio, MK-ultra, traición muchas veces, etc.) pero yo también tengo lo mío así que intentaría que recordara que ambos somos un equipo y apoyo el uno del otro. También creo que, al menos por mi edad, la relación sería más como un sugar daddy. Si ves algo que te gusta, lo tienes, ni lo dudes, te regalaría cosas también por cualquier motivo o simplemente porque algo le recordó a ti. Aunque, como con Woods, siento que la vida sexual sí sería mega activa, sobre todo porque soy joven (y no tengo experiencia) siento que si le digo eso sólo sería para que él sea más posesivo aún y tal vez tenga más ganas por la diferencia de edad. Un dios en la cama sin duda. En serio, siento que si convences a este hombre puede hasta encontrar atractiva la diferencia de edad más que ninguno.

10/10 (Honestamente me encanta. Y yo siendo INTJ pues los ENTJ son mi debilidad.)

Jason Hudson: Honestamente creo que es un sabelotodo, cosa que por lo general, no me gustan estos tipos en general…peeero si soy muy curiosa, así qué aunque siento que es más calmado que TODOS los anteriores eso también tiene un encanto para mí, a su propio modo. Me imagino que si fuera su novia podría estar en su regazo mientras está en su oficina en la casa o algo mientras lo abrazo. No creo que sea el más pasional, siento que está más enfocado en su trabajo, pero como con Adler, yo prefiero eso y a hombres enfocados en su trabajo, con tal de que no me sofoquen a mi. Así que para Adler y Hudson eso a mi les suma puntos. No creo que sea el más pasional pero seguro no te dice que no alguna que otra noche…si no se pasa de tiempo trabajando. Igual creo que intenta cuidar su sueño. Seguramente te trata super bien y todo y también seguro es una enciclopedia andante que sabe prácticamente todo y tiene alguna respuesta para todo. No creo que pierda la calma por cualquier problema que tengas, está acostumbrado a cosas MUCHO más estresantes. Si creo que tiene mucha paciencia, pero es demasiado serio.

7/10 (Si te gustan los hombres más serios y salir con alguien que seguramente sea jefe dentro y fuera del trabajo pues está bien, pero tal vez sea demasiado serio para mí, le daría puntos extras si fuéramos amigos pero como novio creo que sí sería más complicado, a veces)

Grigori Weaver: Honestamente me encanta, comparto muchos traumas y miedos con Weaver (no quiero profundizar mucho por temas personales pero digamos que me identifico demasiado). Creo que si se enamora de mi y deja de ser mujeriego sería lo mejor, el tema es que al inicio me sería difícil confiar en él para una relación por bueno, ser mujeriego, tengan en cuenta que tampoco tengo demasiadas experiencias. Mi miedo sería ser solo una más en su lista pero siendo honestos Weaver no ha sido mujeriego tanto por gusto, en su caso creo que más bien aunque haya querido una relación estable digamos que su vida no se lo permitió. Aún así seguramente si fuera mi novio estaría todo el dia sentada en su regazo mientras trabaja o hace algo. Escuché que es buen mecánico así que estaría a su lado si arregla algún auto o algo y le preguntaría qué hace y cómo funciona lo que sea que esté arreglando. Amaría abrazarlo todo el día sea en la cama, sofá, silla, lo que sea, no me importa, amo los abrazos y sé que Weaver también los ama aunque nunca te pediría uno. Yo soy mucho de contacto físico y amo su barba (me encanta Weaver en Black Ops 6, qué decirte) así que me la pasaría tocandola, su barba, su cabello, todo de él. Me encanta cocinar y amaría cocinar algún plato típico sovietico para él, sería un reto pero lo haría, aunque sería mejor si tengo ayuda directa, lo haría que me ayude jeje. Si noto que Weaver tiene demasiados traumas y a veces le cuesta expresarlo sobre todo si no lo escuchan pero como alguien que tuvo el mismo problema por años intentaría ayudarlo e incentivarlo a ir hacia el futuro en todo momento, aunque las pérdidas duelan y no podamos hacer que el dolor disminuya si podemos hacerlo ameno juntos. En serio, el tipo es sumamente leal y amable, hasta le organizó una cita a Mason,¿Qué acaso crees que este tipo no haría lo que sea por mi si fuera su novia? el tipo está desesperado por una conexión humana, genuina y real, imaginate como se pondría si la obtuviera. Viene salvando a Maxis desde 1979 hasta 1991, este tipo es leal y perseverante. También creo que por todo lo anterior es muy protector y  ya saben que a mí eso me encanta. Creo que no sería tan intenso sexualmente con la frecuencia, tal vez como Adler o Woods, pero definitivamente este tipo tiene un master en sexo. A mi me haría cualquier cosa, ya el tema estaría en si puedo aguantar o no y honestamente me da miedo responderme eso a mí misma. Si disfrutas mucho con él en el sexo, eso es seguro, pero no creo que presuma. Tampoco creo que la diferencia de edad sea algo que le moleste, es más, creo que ni pensaría algo sobre eso, le da igual.

10/10 (Siento que encajamos muy bien y seríamos muy tiernos juntos) (ojalá arreglar nuestros traumas juntos)

Lazar: Viendo como trataba a Park en Cold War siento que me podría abrumar mucho en un inicio. Me sería difícil enamorarme rápido de él por más encantador que fuera. Si, me gusta, si me atrae fisicamente, si, amo que por su tamaño SEA UN OSO GIGANTE LLENO DE PELO y si, me gusta su personalidad, solamente que ser tan denso para alguien como yo le resta puntos. Tal vez solo no es mi tipo y ya. Además, demasiado extrovertido para mi gusto, tengo límites, perdón. Si lo viera en persona primero me perdería en sus ojos, luego sería consciente de lo pequeña que soy a su lado y si bien me excitaría eso a la vez me intimidaría jeje. Aunque no creo que sea tan mujeriego como Weaver si siento que no tendría demasiado compromiso a menos que él quiera, nop, no puedes cambiarlo. Asi que tal vez si quieres algo más casual y sin compromiso te guste más, repito, no sería mi tipo para una relación formal. Eso no significa que no disfrute jeje. Si creo que sería empalagoso o tal vez requiera mi atención demasiado, cosa que me desesperaría. Siento que sería muy dulce dentro y fuera de la cama y te podría hacer regalos o invitarte a planes seguido, muy tierno.

5.7/10 (Si buscas algo casual y un chico MUY atento a ti seguramente sería más tu tipo, por desgracia no el mío)

+Bonus

William Peck: siempre lo odié en Cold War pero en Black Ops 6 honestamente me cae bien (sigo esperando una apuñalada por la espalda pero ok). Tiene un carácter de mierda que apenas tolero pero irónicamente eso me da risa. Es demasiado inteligente y presumido. Por lo general me irritan los sabelotodo PERO a la vez eso en Peck y por su humor hace que me caiga bien. Ni loca podría ser su novia, pero si me invitara a una cita sin duda aceptaría. Quien sabe, hasta podría ser divertido. Sobre todo si te interesa pasar 2 horas seguidas escuchando a alguien como un maldito podcast viviente.Honestamente amaría retarlo intelectualmente.

No tendría sexo con él ni aunque me pagaran.

[callmelitlesunshine]

Ekaterina Burova & Perseus

Her code name later - Bell.

Her sharp mind and skills, acquired during her training at the academy and then while working for the KGB, turned out to be very useful for Perseus' plans and operations. As it turned out, Katya is an extremely experienced and excellent cipher. Perseus hired her precisely during her work for the KGB, and Ekaterina did not refuse such an interesting opportunity, which irrevocably changed her life.

In the end, she knows - she had nothing to lose anyway, right?

Well, a new year is a chance for me to start a new beginnings. I wanted to start sharing story of my version of Bell last year, but it wasn't possible for me to do so. So I guess I'll start this year! Hopefully I can share as much as I can about her story and her interactions with the characters from Black Ops Cold War and Black Ops 6!

Taglist [in/out]: @that1avian @gerdi-mitchell @mutantthedark @adlerdaduck @carlosoliveiraa @adlerboi

@tommyarashikage @alexxmason @nohimeren @violetflavia @courtana

@iamcautiouslyoptimistic @sergeiravenov @pricescigar @ladysouthpaw1213

@drug-overdose @guigz1-coldwar @kings-out-of-pocket-hell @lordskellington003

@fw-priyanshu @kylezkie4adler @icecutioner @mygoldenmile

@vanessa3103 @septic-salad

[wildmayhemz]

Line art of woods

[bellsofficialbalaclava]

What happened to Bell after Solovetsky?

What did Adler do to the corpse? Was Bell incinerated? Shoved into a trench somewhere to rot with no identifying information, legally becoming a "John Doe" with suspected cause of death listed as homicide? Was his bleeding body lazily rolled over off the cliffs, hitting a few rocks before laying still in the water as more and more birds come along to chip pieces of skin in their beaks?

We all know Adler felt 0 guilt, realistically, about what he did. But the others HAVE to have at least "picked up on" it when Bell hadn't come back for days, weeks on end, and they usually always come straight back to the safehouse after a mission like a dog greeting its owner after a long day.

Did Sims and Park/Lazar notice, at least? Did they feel anything?

Park likely wouldn't feel "guilt" as such, but she'd feel as close to ""remorse"" as psychically possible for a planned out torture experiment she was in charge of.

Lazar was never particularly interested in Bell. Nor was Hudson (though the latter had more of an outright animosity and disdain towards them than a simple disinterest), so the chances of them doing anything that would be perceived as "mourning" seem quite low in my eyes.

Sims? Sims, straight from day 1, tried to be as friendly and amicable to Bell as possible, smiling and nodding on missions and sharing bad jokes and the like. Yes, surely this was all pre-planned to make it SEEM more realistic to Bell, by having Sims as a "childhood/long time friend" template- in other words, I doubt that wasn't ALSO planned out meticulously about what he was "allowed" or "supposed" to say and what to keep tight lipped about.

Bell having a family, partner, or even simple work-friends pre CIA is never mentioned, purposefully. They don't WANT him to remember or feel attached to his past in any way.

I know I'm repeating myself here but I think about this a lot.

[grave-robber-grim]

You know the campaign's good when at the end you feel sick to your stomach about the canon/"good" ending.

[mockerycrow]

Hii here's my request if you'd like to write it; Adler x femreader w/ "I had a nightmare...can I stay with you tonight?" Thankss <3

DREAM OR REALITY? (Adler x Fem!Bell!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

authors note: i couldn’t resist.

[WARNINGS: Black Ops Cold War Spoilers, very slight Mentions of Torture, nightmares, minor paranoia, toxic little hurt/comfort.]

YOU WAKE UP in a cold sweat, your heart pounding against your rib cage and with a voice in the back of your mind. You’re trembling as you can’t make any sense of what the voice is saying, and soon the sound of your blood rushing in your ears overtakes the incoherent voice.

You rub your eyes to ground yourself before you glance around, noting you’re still in the warehouse. You look at your watch, groaning quietly as you realize it’s quite early in the morning. Your chest feels quite heavy, and you have an odd craving for a cigarette when you don’t remember ever picking the habit up.

It’s one of those nights; you can tell you aren’t going to be able to go back to sleep anytime soon. Adler and the others wanted you to stay in the warehouse just in case you were able to decrypt any more information; you had no problem with that, as mostly everyone else also slept in the warehouse, although in different areas. Unfortunately though, your makeshift sleeping cot is not too comfortable, so you have an ache in your neck along with stirring anxiety from your nightmare. 

You push the cheap blanket off of yourself and you adjust your sleeves before swinging your legs over the side of the cot. You slip your boots on and lace them up, letting out a heavy sigh as you do so. A nervous energy remains under your skin, like you’re being watched. You know you aren’t—or do you?— but you shudder nonetheless. You grab your leather jacket, sliding it on before you exit the room you’ve been sleeping in for the past couple of days. The common area is clear except for Helen by the radios with her headphones, trying to make out Russian messages.

You rub your sternum before exiting the warehouse right in front of the garage door, the cool nighttime air filling your lungs. Goosebumps rise underneath your jacket for a moment from the fresh sensation, and you’re so caught up in your own mind you don’t even notice the man standing a few feet away. “What’re you doin’ up?” You jolt at the sound of someone’s voice and you look over, locking eyes with Adler. Lacking his usual sunglasses, his eyebrows are more visible and furrowed. A half smoked cigarette is between his fingers like usual, and he takes a drag from it.

You let out a breath and you shrug, stuffing your hands into the back pockets of your jeans, shifting your weight as you glance away. “Couldn’t sleep.” You utter. You technically aren’t lying, though you didn’t even attempt to go back to sleep. Adler doesn’t respond as he tucks a hand under his other arm as he takes another drag off of his cigarette, shifting slightly closer to you. Your eyes train on some bugs flying around under the big light overhead for a moment, the silence being filled with crickets. 

“Couldn’t sleep, huh?” Adler hums, his eyes never leaving your form. He notes the way you’re reluctant to share anything, your conflicted and far away gaze; he’s already thinking you’ve had a nightmare. “What was it about?”

Your gaze moves from the bugs to him—his stare feels like he sees all of you, your bare soul; your skin and bones and every sin you’ve ever committed. Adler’s gaze has always felt like that and you’ve never known what to make of it. He’s so.. vague yet so on the dot every time he talks to you, so friendly yet so cruel. You aren’t sure if you should say anything. “Bell.” You feel a nudge against your arm and you blink for a moment before looking back at Adler, your hearing returning—you aren’t sure when it left.

“I just.. I had a nightmare.” You admit with a weak laugh, looking away nervously as your hands fidget in the back pockets of your jeans. Your weight shifts as silence fills the air between you two and you kind of want to reach over to strangle him a bit—you know he’s waiting for you to elaborate. “I couldn’t make any sense of it, honestly. It was a weird horrid mixture of Vietnam and.. this room. Televisions.. hm. I don’t know.” You mumble, trailing off before you look back at him. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

There’s an unreadable look in Adler’s eyes as he drops his cigarette, stepping on it and squashing it to put it out. It takes him a moment before he nods. “Sure, Bell. You can stay with me. We can go over some files, yeah? Take your mind off of it, since we have a job to do.”

A weird sense of calm washes over you from his words and you nod, letting out a relieved breath. “Yeah, we can do that.”

[artistcalledbella]

bell

[tomialtooth]

[maumausie]

Me looking at David Walker (he’s just like me fr)

Anyyways thinking about how different the Brainwashed Protags (Mason, Bell, Case, and Logan) were, y’know, brainwashed.

Like Mason’s brainwashing was more rudimentary, but pretty effective with the numbers.

It almost reminds me of the water drip torture method (often referred to as Chinese Water Torture) for some reason. As far as I can remember, no drugs were canonically used in order to achieve his brainwashing.

Bell’s brainwashing was really rushed, and resulted in lots and lots of amnesia. Implanted memories, drugs, the works (and I’ve already gone into depth about my thoughts on that in this post).

Despite that, I’d say his was the most effective. His trigger phrase worked, no pesky real memories coming through until Adler started poking at him.

Case’s brainwashing was the second most effective as far as I can tell.

He’s physically incapable of speaking about the Cradle and what was done to him. Similar to Bell, I assume that drugs were use to achieve the amnesia aspect (I suspect a large amount of benzodiazepines had a hand in that, and possibly narcotic painkillers if the Cradle experiments were painful as I expect they were in addition to the hallucinogens).

However, unlike Bell, he has these “episodes” where he kind of freaks the fuck out for a second. Mostly about the Cradle but also when Adler tells him to kill that guy who I can’t remember the name of right now. It’s also mentioned that he was violent and unstable, hence why it’s only second-best.

And as for Logan… we just don’t know.

I assume that they plan to use the same method as they did for Rorke, which is sort of similar to Bell’s brainwashing. He mentions the pit, but also weakening his body with exotic poisons, and then continuing the brainwashing from there. Like they said in the game, Rorke had been viciously, ruthlessly, loyal to the Ghosts. He was THE Ghost, some would’ve said. But right before he was taken by the Federation, he was betrayed (at least in his eyes) by Elias and by extension, the Ghosts as a whole. Logan never got that little push.

If he does end up brainwashed in the sequel (shhhh I’m manifesting), I think it would take a lot longer for him to break. Or at least I think he’d be the easiest to snap out of it. It really depends on the other Ghosts (especially Hesh). I feel like a Cain and Abel dynamic would be super cool to explore with them, but I also feel like that’s just not their dynamic, you know? If anyone could help Logan out of it, it’d be Hesh.

It also depends on the technology of the Federation. They probably learned a lot not only from Rorke, but potentially other POWs captured during the war.

I dunno 😞 I just think about my sillies (traumatized brainwashed military men) a lot.

[anime-potato-san]

SAFEHOUSE CREW: DAY 4 (NIGHTMARES)

Please ignore that I’m late again. Several days late

Everyone has nightmares. Realistic or not, they still manage to terrify and torment the poor soul suffering from them.

Bell is no different.

Bell, of course, has to deal with night terrors on a daily basis. And unfortunately, her brain has lots to work with to make her dreams hell. So many traumas to choose from. That night on the Trazadon airport? The Cuba mission? The cliff when Adler shot her? Her past…?

…What’s in that bunker…?

…Open the door, Bell…

…That damn red door…

Every time she thinks that she’ll finally be able to get through that door or get any progress, when she gets to the door, it’s just another hallway. So she tries again once she reaches the other door again. Then again. And again.

Door after door after door after door after door

It’s just never ends. All the while Adler’s voice is ringing through Bell’s ears, demanding she stop screwing around. Demanding that she just opens the door. As if she isn’t trying to. By God, does Bell want to open that stupid door. Anything to make it stop. Are the halls closing in? Are the walls turning into the red bunker door, or is it just her? The doors just surround her, begging to be opened. She couldn’t escape them even if she tried. Bell could have sworn she felt blood trickle down from her left eye as she opened yet another door. More doors. Then, she’s falling. It’s like there’s nothing in this world but darkness and those red doors that seem to be painted with blood at this point.

Bell jolted awake, just barely able to keep herself from making any noise. Yet another nightmare about that godforsaken bunker door. As much as she hates those kind of nightmares, at least tonight it wasn’t reviving Lazar’s death or imagining the others dying. No, tonight, the torment was just restricted to herself, and not once did she ever die in it. Death would have been a mercy, wouldn’t it? It would have made her wake up sooner. Maybe that’s just her own subconscious saying that. Would death have been better that day? Should she have died at Solvesky? Even though she was awake now, a part of Bell could have sworn that her left eye was throbbing in pain.

…Bell turned to her side and wrapped her arms around Adler, holding back tears as she nuzzles her head into his neck. When she felt him stir and turn over to face her, Bell tried to tell him that she was fine. As usual, Adler knew that wasn’t the case. Rather than asking about what nightmare she had, Adler held her closer, kissing a tear on her cheek, murmuring reassurances as Bell fell back asleep. Ironic, she thought. Comfort from the man who caused some of her nightmares. Bell slowly dozed off again, feeling safe this time.

(Thank you @mellosdrawings for the inspiration! Your artwork gave me an idea for one of Bell’s nightmares. Amazing artwork.)

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Tension | Frank Woods x Reader

Summary: You and Woods have had it out for each other since you joined his team, but tensions reach their breaking point in enemy territory, when it’s just the two of you.

Word Count: ~4.6k

Warnings: this would make the pope cry, implied misogynist, p in v, fingering, oral fem receiving, violence, blood, guns, violent make out sessions, handjob, cutesy kissing, overstimulation, just a lot

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: thank you to britney spears, alex mason, sleep deprivation, and my glorious king lin manuel miranda for this thing I have created❣️first frank woods fic and this thing is filthy wow. it’s been a long time since I’ve written something this long

(also this is woods between bo1 and bo2 before menendez snatched his knees up💔)

Requests are open!

Frank Woods clearly had never met a woman before.

That was the natural conclusion one would come to, after seeing how he interacted with one. Especially a woman in the military who was on active duty, and not just a secretary or some CIA lapdog.

He was rough around the edges, and you didn’t mind that, hell, you were an active-duty Marine. You’d gone through basic training, survived the screaming and orders, and shed a few tears before wiping them and getting back up. But he was only rough around the edges to everyone else, and that made your blood boil.

He didn’t seem to know what to do with you.

“You cut out for this?”

Had been the first sentence he’d said to you after you’d been handpicked to join his team. His expression, an eyebrow raised, something like doubt that you could’ve sworn was in his eyes.

You’d given the look right back, looking him up and down, giving a once over in a more im-sizing-you-up than a taking-you-in kind of way. Maybe you’d had a bit of sass to your tone.

“You think I’m not?”

It had been more of a challenge than a question, a sharp brow cocked at him. The man to his left, an operative named Alex Mason, you’d learn later, had grimaced slightly.

Woods had chuckled, raising his hands in a gesture of mock innocence, before replying.

“No need to get all pissy, hon, just want to make sure you can keep up. This ain’t exactly any normal team—“

Hon. Something like pissed disbelief was on your face as the rest of his words went unheard in your temporary shock before you gave a little huff of mock laughter.

“I’ll keep up just fine, sweetheart.”

You laid the mocking tone on thick with the ‘sweetheart’, walking forward and slamming the paperwork you’d been given into Wood’s chest while walking past him. The little flicker of surprise that went across his face was enough to satisfy you for quite a while.

As you walked away, you heard a sigh from Mason, and Woods mumbling something under his breath.

That had been the beginning of your rivalry with the man, and his every action drove another needle into your skin.

From mission to mission, he repeatedly displayed his complete lack of trust or faith in you. You could understand being skeptical of someone who had just joined your team, but it was getting ridiculous

“Mason, take point.”

It was Mason’s fifth time taking the lead. He hadn’t asked you to even once. Never mind if you enjoyed the view of Woods’ ass when he was in front of you, or the way you could see his muscular thighs moving on some parts when he had to climb over something.

Or when he’d be demeaning.

“Here, I can hold it.”

Your 15-pound weapon. Sure, it was getting heavy, but you didn’t need any help. Not from him, or any man for that matter.

“I can handle it.”

You’d ground out, shooting him a look, trying not to watch how the muscles of his arms flexed slightly as he shifted, the sweat beaded on him, and the few little drops down his forehead. Or how good his tactical vest looked on him.

“Whatever you say, sweets.”

You hated it when he called you that. It felt demeaning, and worse, it sounded hot when the names rolled off his tongue with the little bit of a low rasp that his voice had.

Or worse, when there was a grenade thrown. The first time it had happened, you couldn’t decide between throttling him or jumping his bones right then and there.

“Grenade!”

You’d heard the clatter, and being in an enclosed room, had been decidedly fucked. It had been a few feet away, and when you’d gone to move, you had been jolted forward, a pair of arms wrapping around you, and slammed into the dirt ground on your side.

You’d smelt the cheap cigarette smoke on his breath and the balm he used in his beard, and known it was Frank fucking Woods who’d tackled you.

The explosion had gone off, dust kicking up everywhere and shrapnel flinging itself in every direction but somehow barely nicking either of you.

His hot breath had fanned against your neck, mouth mere inches from your neck. His arms were squeezing tight around your torso, almost to the point of pain, but just not quite. One of his legs was thrown over yours, foot hooking around your ankle and pulling you back into him.

It was an oddly intimate position, and not just because of the fact that he had very likely just saved your life.

It might’ve been his hard-on pressed against your ass.

For a moment, there was just silence and the sound of both of you panting. Adrenaline and something else was running through your veins. You shifted and glanced back at him, taking one look at his heated stare and blown pupils, the way his tongue darted out to lick his too-chapped lips, and knew that things couldn’t go back to normal.

The moment had been interrupted by Mason, walking in and telling you both to wrap it up, only to take a very bewildered double take a moment later as he realized what he’d seen.

“Get off me, bastard.”

“A thank you would be nice.”

“Thanks for not flattening me, fatass.”

After that, the line between professional and something else had blurred, and you didn’t know where either of you were now. Too afraid to cross, unsure if you already had, and not eager to take the first step.

It had escalated from little lingering glances during debriefs, to the smallest brushes of touch between insults, to now, wearing his trademark green slip of fabric as a ponytail holder and not hesitating to flank him alongside Mason.

A rocky, unsteady trust was built, though more out of necessity than want.

You had slowly become his weak spot. Heated touches and looks, wanton gazes, made the entire team tense. The anticipation of waiting for something to finally happen between you two, for someone to take the first step despite the animosity both of you showed.

It had come to a head on a specific mission.

It should’ve been simple, get in, get the information the CIA wanted, and get out. Key word: should’ve.

Not clad in your usual military gear, opting for normal black clothing to keep hidden. If everything went right, you wouldn’t need a bulletproof vest or any gear, anyway.

Everything had gone fine right up until the point where it hadn’t. You had managed to slip past the guards quickly, in the outside base, Frank following, Mason stationed nearby to provide an eye on everything.

“All clear.”

His voice came over the radio.

You turned the corner, moving to a small building where you heard the crackle of a radio, and slowly opened the rickety metal door, scanning for anybody in it.

Clear.

“Moving into a building.”

You’d muttered, holding a small button on the radio clipped to your vest to relay the message to Mason.

“Copy that. Keep quiet.”

Woods snorted at that.

“Great advice.”

He muttered, closing the metal door behind him and twisting the small lock on the handle, standing up from his crouched position and stretching his back with a small groan.

“Like you’re any better.”

You shot him a look, moving to the table with the radio and observing it, fiddling with a few buttons before deciding there wasn’t anything valuable. The rest of the contents of the table, not as useless, not at all.

“Isn’t this what we need?”

You asked in a skeptical tone, looking at a few of the files on the table, all classified information that they’d carelessly left out. Woods had leaned in, just a bit too close to you, and shrugged.

“Fuck if I know. Probably.”

He glanced back at them, then at the stairs to the second floor.

“Gonna head upstairs, see if anything good’s up there.”

His definition of good was an explosive, a gun, or money, so you weren’t exactly confident he’d find anything actually useful for the mission.

You opened the files, skimming over the information inside, missing the subtle click of background noise that you had probably assumed was Woods shuffling around upstairs. A few quiet footsteps, and then something solid was slammed into your head.

Pain blossomed through your body as an adrenaline rush began pumping through your veins, and you grunted at the pain of the blow before turning—more being grabbed, and thrown to the floor before you could even attempt a defense.

Your hands pushed at the enemy soldier above you, kicking and clawing at him, trying to yell only for his gloved hand to smother your mouth.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The hand over your mouth quickly went around your neck, squeezing just tight enough for you to start losing the ability to think straight while running out of oxygen.

“Fuck off—“

You ground out, eyes going over to the stairwell as you saw a blurry figure stalk down them. Just as your vision began turning to black, objects turning to blurry flecks of color as your eyes watered, the man above you was suddenly ripped off as Woods wrestled him to the ground.

You took a desperate gasp of air, lungs burning with it as your throat ached, the pain in your head barely beginning to subside.

Moving to get to your feet, you watched as the man collided to the floor with Frank, your coworker’s fist slamming into the soldier’s face with a strength you hadn’t seen from him in….ever.

The man grabbed his pistol, hand barely gripping it as he used it to pistol whip Woods right in the nose, before you scrambled over and wrestled the gun out of his hand, seeing his finger going for the trigger before you snatched it, and aligned it with his temple before firing.

The grunting and sounds of fighting suddenly died down completely, the mystery soldier going limp, and Woods rolling off of him.

“Jesus,”

He muttered, wiping at his bleeding nose, his knuckles scraped and bloody. Maybe it was the lightheadedness from being choked out, or the adrenaline making your blood rush through your body, but goddamn did he look hot.

He glanced up at you, both of your eyes meeting, and for a split second there was dead silence other than both of your ragged breathing before you lunged and this time, you tackled him to the floor.

Your lips collided with his, body landing right on top of his as your hands went to grab his face, not letting him move an inch other than closer to you. He hummed, almost fucking moaning into it, shoving his tongue right into your mouth with no qualms, only to let out a huff of laughter through his nose when you pushed right back.

He rolled over, trapping you against the concrete floor, not being surprised when your hands shifted right down to his chest and tried pushing him back onto his back.

Your mouths separated long enough for him to gasp in a breath of air before slamming right down into you again, his rough, calloused hands sliding under your shirt, feeling up every inch of your skin until reaching your bra, only to get kneed in the dick by none other than you.

You ended the kiss for the moment, pushing him off of you, watching as he groaned and cradled his crotch.

“Bitch,”

He panted out, no real ire in his tone, a near-feral grin on his face as he watched you get up, knees nearly buckling.

“I’d rather not repeat earlier, dumbass. If you’re gonna fuck me—“

Your sentence was interrupted with a grunt as you grabbed a nearby metal cabinet, and moved to push it in front of the door so you didn’t have anyone interrupting either of you. He watched you struggle for a moment, before getting to his feet, and planting his feet on the ground while shoving the cabinet alongside you.

“—we aren’t getting interrupted.”

You finished once the cabinet was moved, watching as he grabbed it and picked it up with an astounding ease too, shifting it to an angle against the door, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“Show off.”

You scoffed. He let out a little chuckle at that, turning to you with a raised brow.

“Barricades go at an angle. I’ve told you that before.”

Stupid banter and teasing was all it was. You looked him up and down, eyes lingering on certain areas, before replying.

“I was a bit distracted.”

He was a sight like this. Bloodied knuckles, dried blood on his face, sweaty and clearly on some kind of high from adrenaline, spit smeared on his beard.

“Oh, I’ll show you distracted.”

The hint of a threat made something fire up in your veins as he wrapped a single one of his arms around your waist, lifting and throwing you over his shoulder, ignoring your little “Hey—!”, as he carried you to the desk, his other arm impatiently swiped all of the important documents to the ground as he set you down on the desk.

“I hate you,”

You said, giving him an indignant look before leaning forward and hurriedly resuming the earlier kiss you had abruptly ended, his beard tickling your face as you moved your hands to slip under his shirt, feeling up from the little pudge of his stomach, to the hard muscle of his torso, to his hairy chest, and back down.

He caught on quickly, groaning as he shoved his hands under your shirt in return, rough, calloused hands feeling up every inch of your skin, the fat and muscle of it, up to your bra.

He pulled away just a moment, panting for air, fingers lingering at the edge of your bra. He raised his brows in question.

“Go on,”

“Thought you hated me?”

“Shut up.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, cupping your breasts and squeezing, kneading the fat of them as your breath caught in your throat. Your hands moved to his shirt, pawing at it until catching the end and yanking it upwards. He flashed a cocky grin, pulling his hands out from your shirt, quickly stripping out of his shirt, revealing the thin layer of fat covering his muscular physique.

You practically clawed your shirt off, feeling overheated in it now, anyway, the bra soon to follow.

“Fuuuck,”

He groaned as he saw you, his hands itching to touch you anywhere and everywhere, need building in his gut as he began a slow, heated trail of kisses from your jawline, down your neck and collarbone, taking care to suck and bite on the skin there, leave his mark, all the way down between the valley of your tits, your stomach, until he reached your pants.

A little glance up at you for confirmation, and he was pulling them down with an almost embarrassing desperation, though Frank Woods would never be embarrassed of being desperate for you.

Your underwear was yanked down as he dropped to his knees, the hard impact of the concrete barely registering as he wrapped his hands around your thighs, letting you choose to spread them, and fucking buried his face in your cunt.

“Jesus fucking—Frank!”

Too much too fast, the sensations went from zero to one hundred as he slid his tongue up your folds, took a second to find your clit, and latched onto it, lapping at it like a dog while groaning like a senseless mutt.

Your hips bucked forward as you cried out, muscles constricting and tensing before relaxing as you squirmed beneath him. One hand deserted its post at your thigh and slipped down to your pussy, and he ran his middle and index finger through your slick, before surprisingly gently fingering at your hole, making sure that would fit.

Your hands fisted in his hair but allowed a moment of reprieve as he stopped for just a moment to breathe, nearly gasping for it. His eyes were half-lidded and looked hazy, like he was drunk, high, or both.

“Fuckin’ heaven.”

He muttered, throwing a lazy smile up at you as he leaned forward, licking a lewd stripe up your cunt while maintaining eye contact, slipping both of his fingers in right then. You groaned, eyes squeezing shut as your walls clenched around the sudden intrusion of his fingers, their calluses and thicker-than-normal girth a new experience for you.

“Woods,”

You gasped his name like a prayer when he dove back in, his tongue working you hungrily, like a man starved, disgustingly hot slurping sounds making their way into your ears as his pace with his fingers quickened, slamming in, out, in, out and rubbing against a certain sweet spot in a delicious way that made you dizzy.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt everything tense, an orgasm quickly approaching and threatening to overwhelm you completely. You were torn between tugging his face closer and pushing it away as your hips steadily rocked against him, basically grinding against his face at this point.

Either he noticed your tighter grip, the gasps and moans becoming quickly incomprehensible as you babbled pure nonsense, or the muscles in your thighs tensing up just a bit too much to be normal, because he intensified his ministrations, sucking on your clit and flicking his tongue against it, until that cord in your stomach finally snapped and you nearly screamed, only not because his other hand moved to your mouth, shoving a few fingers in, and you began mindlessly sucking on them, moaning around them.

Your vision went blurry and spotted for almost a moment, everything trembling as Woods slowly pulled his fingers out, sucking each off with a little ‘pop’ at the end, and standing back up.

He eased his other fingers out of your mouth, wrapping both arms around you, holding you against his chest as he rubbed your back, cradling your trembling body.

“I know, it’s a whole fuckin’ lot. Did so good for me, pretty girl.”

He murmured, one of his hands going to gently rub at your scalp, idly playing with your hair while waiting for you to come down from your high and resettle. He didn’t want to overwhelm you too much.

A few minutes passed, of him holding you close, muttering sweet nothings into your ear, with a honeyed tone with that delicious rasp and almost growl of his, before you finally came back down to Earth, dazed and horny as fuck.

“You alright?”

He asked, and you groaned.

“Never been better. You gonna show me what you’re packing?”

You gave a pointed glance at the very noticeable tent in his pants, and he laughed breathlessly, his hand going to tug down the thick canvas texture pants he was wearing, kicking them off until they joined the rest of both of your clothes on the floor. His old, ratty boxers that he’d probably had since the Vietnam War were next to go, his cock springing out in all of its ungroomed glory.

Precum was smeared and beaded on the tip, probably why there was a wet spot on his boxers. It was hairy, much like the rest of Frank, not that you really gave a shit. A good 5 inches, pretty damn thick too.

Jesus Christ.

“Enjoying the view?”

He asked with a cocky, knowing smirk, as you’d been having a staring contest with his dick. You rolled your eyes, reaching down and wrapping your fingers around his cock, watching as it twitched a bit in your hand, examining the way Woods’ expression shifted into pleasure when you squeezed just a bit, and teasingly just barely rubbed the tip.

“I think I’ll like the feel more.”

You said, listening to the low moan that slipped out from his lips, the steady rocking of his hips against your hand as it seemed to throb in your hands, having a pulse of its own.

“Oh, god—“

Woods wasn’t a religious man by any means, but he figured that he was being blessed by some god out there if he was experiencing this right now.

His breathing grew a bit heavier as his brows furrowed, thighs clenching and his knees threatening to give out from under him. God, he was so fucking close—and—

You stopped.

Completely took your hand off, and when he fully opened his eyes, you were looking at him with a smug little smirk that both made him want to strangle you and also made his dick stand prouder than ever.

“You just love torturing me—don’t you?”

He asked, trying to regulate his breathing as he wrapped a hand around himself, giving a few little pumps, and moving forward, rubbing his cock through your folds a few times to lubricate himself, before aligning with your entrance.

You spread your legs, wrapping them around his torso and squeezing to pull him in closer, trap him in, your hands going to hold him close as they wrapped around his upper back, nails threateningly close to scratching him.

“It’s hardly torture,”

You said in an amused tone, squeezing just a bit tighter as his hand went to rub at the fat of your hip.

“Relax, mama, don’t wanna hurt you.”

He muttered, moving torturously slowly as he pushed his bulbous tip in, finally getting it all the way in as he let you have a little moment to adjust as you clenched around him. His thumb went to go rub at your clit, small, slow circles around and around it, trying to get you to relax.

He succeeded, as the stimulation went right to your head, lips parting as you lowly moaned, leaning forward and leaning your head on his shoulders.

“Yeah, feels good, right? You like that, baby?”

He cooed in your ear, using your state to slip just a little bit more slowly in, and letting out a shaky breath as your body clenched around him, sucking him further into the sticky, wet, warmth of you.

He began rocking his hips slowly out, then right back in, until eventually he could slide nearly all the way in. Finally, after what felt like hours, he bottomed out and let out a shuddering breath that almost sounded like a whine.

“So fuckin’ tight, gonna squeeze my dick right off, baby—“

He mumbled, letting his finger on your clit speed up just a little bit while beginning with slow, languid thrusts while he groaned right into your ear, slowly speeding up until his arm was holding you tightly to him purely so you didn’t move around too much or get friction burns.

The initial stretch hadn’t been terrible, but now, with his pace picking up until he was pounding into you like a rabbit, rubbing right up against every little sweet spot buried in you that you hadn’t even known you’d had.

Your puffy cliff was practically being rubbed raw, overstimulation building as your mind tried processing and failed, too overwhelmed in a good way as you couldn’t think of a single fucking thing.

“Frank—“

His name, you could cry out that much. Your nails dug into the tanned and freckled skin of his back, scratching long red marks up and down, something he’d definitely feel later.

“Yeah? What is it, baby?”

You were jolted back and forth due to the impact of his hips and yours. The whines increasing in pitch and the moans were about the only thing you could get out between hiccups, your back arching in ecstasy, hips jerking forward in an attempt to push him deeper.

“‘S too much,”

You whined, and he gave a little shake of his head.

“No, you can take it, doing so well. Being so nice and pretty, jus’ needed a little bit of dick, didn’t you?”

He mumbled, pushing forward in a particularly hard thrust and watching the little bulge that appeared for a second, and leaning forward to press a hot kiss to your lips, not caring for a mess he made.

His thumb picked up the pace, rubbing faster and faster, while he continued to hammer into you, and the pleasure quickly became overwhelming, a few tears pricking at your eyes as you couldn’t do anything but cry out his name, moan, and take it. He was clearly getting close to a climax as well, judging by how his eyes squeezed shut, thighs clenching desperately.

“Jesus, fuck, oh my god,”

He rasped out, his head tilting back slightly as his rhythm slipped for a moment, desperately rutting into you like an animal. All the pleasure came to a singular point, and your orgasm crashed over you, unbearable and making something under your skin claw at you for freedom.

Your legs spasmed as you clenched around his dick like a vice, and he let out a little yelp, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head as he came on sight, stuffing you full of his cum while desperately shoving it deeper with his hips, groaning like a whore.

Your entire body felt weak and drained, limp as a fucking noodle, your vision still not completely back to normal after the intense aftershocks of your climax. Your heart was pounding, hips bucking at every little crumb of stimulation now.

Frank was breathing hard, leaning against the table, before regaining mental consciousness and slowly pulling out, cringing at how sensitive he was.

“You okay?”

A glint of worry underlied his assessing gaze as he looked you over, this time not a hint of lust, checking for any injuries to see if he accidentally had hurt you.

You felt like you’d just run a marathon. But taking a look at the documents on the floor, you remembered that you both still had a job to do, and an important one, too.

“Fine. Just..tired.”

Taking one look at you, he picked your clothes up off the ground and set them on the table.

The chill of the air nipped at your skin, though he didn’t seem as bothered by it, slowly helping your limp legs back into underwear, trying not to watch his own spend drip out of you, then pants.

He slipped your bra on, shirt soon to follow, eyes momentarily drifting to the various bruises and little indentations of teeth marks he’d left, before grabbing his own clothes and beginning to put them back on. A few minutes and he was clothed, before the both of you began picking the documents up, at this point just assuming they were the right ones and wanting to leave.

You realized quite a lot too late that the way it had landed on the floor, the button to relay a message had been pressed down the entire time.

Meaning Mason had overheard the entire thing.

You and Woods exchanged a look, before he started poorly suppressing a laugh. You sighed, pressing the button down.

“We’re finished in here. Got the information, we’ll be heading out now.”

Mason’s voice came back over after a minute.

“I’m well aware that you both finished. You’re clear, no traffic.”

Woods’ poorly restrained laugh became a poorly muffled laugh at that.

It was safe to say that once all of you got to exfil, simply a discreet van, it was a long ride home. Mason stared at the ground the entire time, while you took a nap on Woods’ shoulder, and Frank seemed awfully proud of himself, talking about anything that came to mind before passing out on Mason’s shoulder in the final stretch of the car ride.

At least you wouldn’t be alone in your barracks anymore.