ciitroner

[ciitroner]

Hi Cii! Your writing is so good and I love how everything has so much quality, can’t wait to see your blog grow! May I request Soap being a complete creep towards flower shop owner!reader? Thank you!

i imagine him being the type of guy to buy the most expensive, beautiful and biggest bouquet of flowers at your store before placing them in your hands. you're honestly just confused and try to hand it back, but he just pushes your hands away.

he gives you a wink, "for you." and walks out of the store whistling.

he does this almost weekly, and it slowly escalates to almost every day. at one point, he comes into your store and doesn't even pretend to look at the beautiful roses he's standing in front of. he just... stares at you.

you don't know his job, so the first time he's on deployment, you actually find yourself thinking and worrying about the weird Scottish man. although he'd talked about your "pretty lil arse" a few more times than you'd like while having a one-sided conversation at the cashier desk, you're anxious - because what if something has happened. or what if he wasn't interested any more, since you never really played his games other than stuttering out a thanks or two, with a hot face.

a month or two goes by, and when he comes in through the door, you sigh. you hate to admit it, but you're relieved he looks... fine. a bit rough around the edges, mohawk and beard grown out. the happiness that once shone through his eyes is now replaced by a dull ocean blue.

you can't stare for too long, and continue helping an old lady beside you. but he catches your attention when he speaks your name for the first time.

you never told him your name.

it's sudden and rough - the kiss that he pulls you into. devoid of any love and affection, just filled with raw lust. you find drool leaking down your chin, and the old lady gasps before scurrying out of the shop.

"you- i- what??" is your reaction when he finally pulls off, your lips are swollen and you can barely even concentrate on the hands massaging your butt like it's dough.

"you, i, bed, tonight." he gives you a smack and finally gives you a lopsided grin while you stand with your mouth agape.

[ciitroner]

NEED RAAAAHHH

König saying "Can I come inside?" when you two are making out at your front door, he breaks the sloppy kiss when you start to laugh, poor man is looking both drowsy and alarmed ://

"I mean... in your apartment..." *heavy breathing*

Like everyone knows what you meant König

[ciitroner]

I feel like I'd adapt and just accept the situation way fast just cause I don't see any other way? I'd try to make it work for my own mental well-being.

Like I'm unhappy and scared but what am i gonna do? They're big as fuck and there's two of em, and I like being alive rn so like - might as well make the most of it! So ill just decorate the house, bake, or cook, or fuck even paint/draw and just do hobby shit.

I will suck the soul outta both of em if it means they get me a console or a pc to play games on, idc if there's parental controls!! Idc!!

Hey sorry for being a bit inactive, just taking a break is all. I’ll answer all my asks soon enough and then start writing for the robot!könig fic.

You’ll never escape anyway so what’s the point in trying to resist?

That’s what they tell you everyday, and to some extent, it’s true. You don’t know your way back, and your chances of going out into the forest that almost killed you are slim. They’re rude, mean and horrible - as long as you’re a fucking bitch that is. Be a nice little housewife for them and you’ll get everything you’d ever want. Cook and even clean for them, just like your first night there. And maybe if you’re nice enough, they’ll let you finally get back into society.

You’ll live in the prettiest apartment, with a credit card beside you to spend it on whatever you’d like. You already knew they were loaded and to have let you live in that horrid cabin for so long made you greedy. Pots and plants, expensive chairs and tables, etc. Sure, you can buy a pc or a console to play on - and as long as you put it down and give them attention when they get back from work, they’d be happy enough to let you keep it. Don’t believe that they won’t lock you up and take everything from you, so just obey.

Paintings!! They think it’s sooo cute, they hang them up on the walls and smile at it everytime they walk past it. Maybe they wanna try painting as well, although they’re not nearly as great as you, they agree (two against one) to paint you naked. You awkwardly take off your clothes, like you’ve done many times before, and they only get a few brush strokes on the canvas before they get up to get a few brush strokes in you.

[ciitroner]

Cabin In The Woods: and the consequences of your actions

Kidnapper!Ghost x Reader x Kidnapper!Soap

PART 3 OF THE KIDNAP!AU BACKSTORY SERIES, part 1, part 2.

ROUGH DAY (main story)

Summary: Never did you once believe that the seemingly abandoned cabin you stumbled across after an accident on your hike would belong to two men you once met at a bar. You wish you'd listened to your gut feeling about them...

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI), afab!reader, kidnapping, oral sex, NON-CON, blowjob, DARK FIC, creepy/pervy behaviour, toxic behaviour, somnophilia? (not really, but you were about to drift to sleep), dacryphilia, humiliation, mention of stalking, slight violence, manipulation, hair pulling, fingering, you get hurt in the process of the hike

Notes: This took way too long, I deleted a few drafts before I said fuck it and settled with this one. Ok mwah enjoy Wc: 4.9k

The evening sun, accompanied by the small occasional breeze carefully, yet harshly, caresses your tired body. Your frame hangs low as if you had not slept in years, your eyebags complimenting the appearance. One after the other, with a shaking huff and a puff, you lift your legs to strive forward. To where - you had yet to discover. You had lost your hiking trail and were now only hoping for a helping sign, although to no avail. Your friend, whose house you were staying at, at the moment, had suggested that you enjoy the forest and nature instead of… well, sulking at home over not getting a job. It was a good idea at the time, and you had promised her to take a lot of beautiful photos that both of you could sigh happily about later on. The only problem is, that you’ve never gone on a hiking trip before, and suddenly being thrown into the worst situation you could currently think of- fuelled your hate for nature. No signal, and an almost dead phone did you no good.

With every rise of angriness and anxiousness over the setting sun, you find the strength to go deeper into the forest - maybe not the greatest idea, but you are so very sure that the hiking trail was around that area… probably… hopefully. You feel a droplet hit your nose, pulling you out of your thought process. How lovely! The bad situation became even worse. It’s slowly but surely getting colder, and what was once only a few drops of rain had turned into a heavy downpour. You could barely see your surroundings, but at least you don’t have to worry about water, you laugh miserably to yourself while you resume walking - as standing in the middle of nowhere would get you… nowhere. The forest ground is wet and slippery, forcing a few gasps and yelps out of you when you lose your balance from time to time. You’re cold, wet, muddy and grumpy after a few stumbles when the first flash of lightning lights up the dark sky, and not very much later - you hear the sharp sound.

“Ah… shit.” You’d have to find shelter as soon as possible, as being surrounded by trees wasn’t ideal in a full-blown thunderstorm.

The slow, hunched walking evolves into jogging in fear when the next bolt of lightning hits somewhere close. Something, most likely a root, knocks you down on your knees as you trip over it. Barely hearing your groan over the loud pitter-patter of the rain, you get up again - and you’d guess your knees were scraped bloody through your pants due to every fall - though, this one was significantly harsh. Your soggy clothing and annoying backpack weigh down on you, not much unlike the anxiousness of getting lost and eaten by wolves - and holding back tears is the only thing you feel like you have control over at the moment. Gasping for breath, you push through a dense thicket, the rain soaking every inch of your being and thorns grabbing onto the poor excuse of clothes you’re wearing. The forest seems to close in around you, and bile rises in your throat - which you have to force down with a gulp. The eerie creaking of branches, the rustling of unseen animals… creatures, the horrible sound of lightning and the relentless downpour create a symphony of discomfort - nonetheless, you push through the labyrinth of nightmares.

Each step forward is a struggle, and being unable to see what’s in front of you awakens a cruel twist of fate as it sends you tumbling down a steep part of the mountain. The world becomes a blur of mud, rocks and undeniable hurt as you desperately claw at anything within reach - attempting to halt your rapid descent. Time seems to slow down, and the echoes of your terrified screams mix with the howling wind until everything goes dark.

With a shocked and pained gasp, you awaken. God knows how long you’ve been out cold - but it mustn’t have been too long, as the world around you is still dark, and the storm continues its wrath, indifferent to your plight.  Pain radiates through your body as you lay there, dazed and battered. You must’ve hit your head, making you pass out, you conclude after a horrible headache crashes down on you. Your hands hurt and so does a part of your lip, you could only guess that it had been injured in the accident. Grimacing, you manage to push yourself upright - letting out pained ah’s and oh’s when you have to balance your body on your hands to get up. Your backpack is still in its place - you realise, and you’re thankful as it could have dampened the fall. You stay standing still for a while, just… appreciating life, thankful you’re still alive. You put your hands in your pockets to preserve the warmth when you realise that your phone is gone, and you realise it's worthless to try and look around if you don’t want to fall somewhere again - as horrible as it was, your life was a bit more important.

As you’re turning around to take a new path, hopefully bringing you some place higher up where you could scream for help during the day, something catches your eye. With a squint of your tired eyes, you notice a cabin in the far distance. You realise it’s not a trick of your exhausted mind and that there indeed is a cabin nearby, nestled within the shadows of the towering trees - and like the most cliché horror character, you’re not taking a chance, limping forward towards the entrance. The cabin emerges from the darkness, its outline becoming clearer as you draw near. It looks old and slightly ugly, you notice - the chair and table on the front porch most likely have been broken and fallen over due to the relentless storm and many more.

With a deep breath, you approach the creaking door. You decide that it’s better to be potentially breaking into the cabin than to be left standing outside in dangerous weather conditions. You pull down the handle, and you’re relieved when it opens. The interior of the cabin gives a special charm of itself - as if time had paused within its walls - and you’re thankful that the shelter you had found for yourself had a good roof, not letting any drops of water slip by. The air is thick with the scent of aged wood and dust. Pretty - but basic, furniture is arranged sporadically as if the owner only had put them there to… put them there. You notice a lamp over a kitchen table with two seats and realise that there might be a chance that the electricity still works, you could only hope. Quickly closing the door behind you, you take on the job of grazing the walls with your sore fingertips, for a sign of the light switch. You mutter an apology to the absent owner when you spread mud and water over the floor in your search, and promise yourself to clean it afterwards, “Aha!”

It takes around ten seconds before the light starts flickering before staying lit. You’re careful to avoid the rugs - some normal, and other animal pelts - when you search for other light switches, as you didn’t want to stay in the dark for any longer. When you’d get home… if you got home, you’d give your friend two slaps on each cheek before giving her a long hug and cry into her shoulder. Then you’d research every how-to on hiking there is, even though you’d never go again - it’s good to know. The occasional gust of wind through a window, incapable of being fully closed, makes the dust dance in the air and you cough.

There’s a fireplace in front of the sofa, surrounded by a bit larger stones, with a flat-screen TV resting on the mantel above the fireplace. You’re cold, and the only thing on your mind is a shower and a hot drink - but you shake your head and explore further, setting down your large backpack close to the entrance. You’d have to take out your things to examine what’s wet and what’s not later - even though you took a waterproof bag (thank god for your friend’s boyfriend), you don’t know if your things were safe from the horrid weather and fall. It’s a two-floor, cosy cabin - the upstairs area consists of a balcony and a bedroom. The windows, though framed by large heavy curtains, allow glimpses of the storm outside, and the flickering bedside lamp you’ve turned on allows you to see the dust gathered on the wooden frames of the bed, and a few flies that had died. The downstairs area consists of the living room, kitchen, and surprisingly clean bathroom - aside from the dust, there is no sign of mould nor any horror film yellowish-bathroom colour anywhere in the sink. You sigh in happiness and pray to whatever entity that had let you live the fall down the mountain that the hot water still works.

The owner might not have visited for a while, and you can only hope that they don’t feel like coming during the few hours- or days, you might be here. The wooden floor creaks under your every step when you walk over to pick up your backpack and settle it down on the kitchen table - obviously after dusting it down with a feather duster you had found in a corner. You needed a change of clothes as soon as possible if you didn't want to get sick - and thus, you unzip it and uncover a carefully wrapped bundle of spare clothes. The previous overthinking, while you had packed your bag, pays off as you take out another pair of underwear, shampoo and some warmer sweats. Luckily, as it was packed at the bottom - it hadn’t become wet, unlike your equipment at the top. You walk to the bathroom and put your clothes down on the counter connected to the basin.

You turn on the water in the bathtub, and let it run while the gentle hum of the electricity powers a small heater. You undress and look at yourself in the mirror, horrifying - you conclude. Steam begins to rise, and you slide the curtain to the side and walk in, sighing as the too-warm water almost boils your skin off - as it should. You made a mental note to remember the fireplace afterwards before you begin washing yourself, scrubbing the dirt and grime off of your body. The scent of your shampoo fills your lungs, and you smile to yourself.

After a long time, you emerge from the shower, wrapped in a dry towel, and feel a renewed sense of vitality. You slip into the fresh, clean clothes - a stark contrast to the dampness and discomfort that defined your… adventure thus far.

You towel dry your hair before leaving the towel to dry on the bathtub curtain rack along with your previous clothes - abandoning your shoes for a pair of warm fuzzy socks you had brought with you, wearing them with a pair of slippers you’d found. Although a few sizes too big, you cringed at the thought of walking on the dust and dead-flies-filled floor. The cabin was creepy, and the occasional flickering of light paired with the storm outside made you take no chances - so in case a monster of some sort came up behind you, at least you could hit it with a slipper. You shrug.

You bring out a vacuum cleaner and plug it into an outlet in the kitchen before cleaning the cabin, making it a more comfortable place - you were especially careful not to leave any dust particles around the fireplace, as it's highly flammable. You decide to clean upstairs as well, fixing the bed in slight sympathy for the owner, before arranging the logs in the fireplace - creating a carefully crafted pyramid you’re frankly proud of. A small box of matches rests on the mantel, and thankfully there are a few left. You strike a match, the flame dancing briefly before settling into a steady glow, and carefully touch the match to the kindling. The flames grow, licking at the wood and bringing the living room area to life.

You’d brought a few - now soggy, although still edible - snacks with you. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep your stomach satisfied for at least a day or two. A breeze from the broken window made you shiver and stay closer to the fire, it was still dark outside, but the rain had calmed down by now and would probably come to a full stop in a few hours. You eat a few protein bars, before falling asleep on the sofa - not being able to turn the television on, as you had no energy to search for the remote control. Dangerous, yes, but it seems like your bad luck had run out as you awaken in the morning (or afternoon, you had no idea - as the only clock in the house had stopped working) with a fully intact cabin and now only a small sad fire in the fireplace. It’s sunny outside, thankfully - and you quickly wash your dirty clothes in the bathtub before hanging them outside on a clothesline. You grimace at the sight of your shoes, it would take at least a few sunny days to dry them fully - even though you almost turn them fully inside out. You walk back inside again, to get yourself some food.

“Hey!”

You let out a shrill scream at the unsuspected voice behind you, and you quickly turn around - cursing as you stumble because of the big slippers on your feet. He’s big, the man. Owner, you presume, inspecting him with wide eyes. He has a large balaclava with a skull print on it, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve seen it before. His gaze is cold, and there’s a certain standoffishness to his demeanour.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologizes, half-heartedly you assume by the hint of amusement and lack of warmth in his tone. His gaze assesses you, not unkindly, but with a detached scrutiny that makes you uneasy. He kicks his boots off by the front door, leaving it ajar, before setting down four full bags on the table you’d kept your backpack - before moving it to the sofa while you snacked yesterday. Your accelerated breathing and heart rate calm a bit when you realise that he doesn’t have any will to hurt you for breaking into his cabin at the moment, you feel the need to excuse your actions.

“It’s okay, it’s been q-quite a night,” you gulp, throat dry, “found your cabin while I was lost due to the storm.”

His response is a nonchalant nod. “Make yourself at home,” he responds, voice authoritative - making the suggestion almost sound like a command. It holds a distance that almost seems intentional. He takes in his surroundings and notices how clean it is, unusual to what it would normally be like after not visiting for almost months at a time. “I… I cleaned,” you announce with a cough, getting up from the floor feeling like an idiot. He seems indifferent, as if your actions hold little significance to him, “I can see that.”

He opens cabinets and slowly but steadily empties the bags, most of it is food, and other things include batteries, you notice. You feel awkward standing while he does the work, “d-do you-”

“Name’s Ghost,” he states abruptly, cutting you off mid-sentence, and not bothering to extend a handshake or any other friendly gesture - continuing to store the items in their places. The introduction hangs in the air, the conversation feeling more obligatory than welcoming. You take off his slippers - and he seems to track your movements through the corner of his eye - before offering your own name. He lets out a short hum, and there’s that. It doesn’t lead anywhere, and you’re both left in silence before the front door opens once more. The sudden footsteps behind you startle you, and you turn around to find another man there.

“Did ye hang those rags outside- oh,” the man notices you and raises his dark eyebrows, “didn’t expect tae see anyone here,” he greets with an accent, although somewhat confused, his tone is friendly and warm - rivalling against Ghost’s composed and cold behaviour. Ghost offers the man a subtle nod in his direction, acknowledging his presence without uttering a single word.

“I was on a hike, got lost and sought shelter from the storm here…” you quickly explain yourself, fiddling with your fingers behind your back in anxiousness of being stared down by two large men. The man continues your conversation while Ghost neatly folds the plastic bags before putting them in a box somewhere in the corner.

“Nae bother,” he drops your name and your ears perk up, eyebrows furrowing in shock. He speaks with a grin as if nothing weird had happened at all. He takes off his boots before joining Ghost in the kitchen - muttering something about teabags. “Thanks for gien’ the place a tidy up.” You ignore his thankfulness.                  

“How do you know my name?” you ask, a tinge of uncertainty layering your words. The man’s grin widens, “we met at the bar, ‘bout a month ago. We had a good time, tad bit too much on the bevvy, though.”

“Ah… Soap?”

“Aye.” He almost vividly describes the details of your… not so much conversation, reminding you of a night when you were perhaps a bit too inebriated to recall much. You have to shush him after a moment, and he cackles at your embarrassed face.

You find it odd that Soap remembers everything so clearly - especially since it’s been a month, while your memories from that night are only flickering fragments. The realization that he has been holding onto these details gets you uncomfortable.

“Ye like yer tea wi’ a wee smidgen of sugar, aye lassie?”

It’s as if he has been meticulously collecting pieces of your life. Despite the peculiar circumstances, Soap continues to engage in casual - slightly one-sided - conversation, seemingly oblivious to the unease settling within you. The sun shines bright through the window close to the table, where Soap is now ushering you towards. You shake your head.

“I… I think I should go home,” you utter tentatively, voicing the sudden urge that has gripped you. Ghost’s gaze, still concealed behind the balaclava, remains unreadable - though the air surrounding him seems to thicken. Soap, his charm momentarily faltering, raises an eyebrow in confusion. “Leaving… so soon?” he questions, friendly demeanour momentarily slipping into an expression of perplexity - leaving you with goosebumps. He leans casually against a wall, as if waiting for your explanation.

“It’s just… I don’t know. These past hours have been a bit,” you wave your hands around, wanting to find the right words, “too much,” you stammer, struggling to articulate your urgency to leave. Soap’s grin returns, but there’s a subtle shift in his gaze, “we’ve got everything ye need right here. Naw need tae go,” he voices with a friendly tone that contradicts the unease in your gut. He places a warm cup of tea in front of you, setting you down on a seat, before sitting on the chair in front of you with a cup of his own. Ghost, still a silent observer - now also with a cup - stands beside Soap, not much unlike a bodyguard.

“Ye’ve been through so much… take a day or two’s rest here before you leave.” It’s voiced almost like a demand. “I guess,” you sip on the tea - silently cursing Soap because he made it just the way you like it. Soap relaxes against the wooden chair and Ghost moves slightly away from your eyesight - before lighting his balaclava to drink.

That was your third and last mistake.

“Love the hustle and bustle o’ the city, but sometimes, a quiet place like this feels like a different world, aye?” Soap shares, a lopsided grin on his face. “I guess,” you repeat. It had been a nightmare, really. You’d never go out again after this.

“Especially since we’ve now got an Angel sent from heaven, now.”

“I- I guess,” you would be a bit more creeped out if he wasn’t exactly your type. You’re both attracted to each other, it seems like. Awful situation.

You continue chatting, Ghost quipping in with small jokes occasionally - and you laugh. The tension in the air slowly disappears, and soon enough - when the tea cups are empty, Ghost drags his mask over his jaw again, hiding anything but his eyes. He gets a stool and settles down next to Soap. You’re thankful they’re being nice hosts.

“Soap-”

“Johnny,” he cuts you off, “he’s Simon. No need for call signs.”

“Ah… Johnny,” you begin, and swear that you see him shudder slightly, “where do you keep your plasters? My knees-” he cuts you off, “hurt in the storm, yeah? Lt will show ye.”

Simon, without uttering a word, motions for you to follow him. Johnny stays in the kitchen, mumbling something about dinner, had it been that long? He leads you to the bedroom to your surprise, you’d guess they’d kept them in the bathroom… but alright. The silence in the air is thick, only broken by the occasional creak of wood under your feet as you climb the stairs. The flickering poor bulb on the ceiling sparks to life when he turns it on, and he gestures towards the bed.

“Take your clothes off.”

“W-what?”

Simon doesn’t repeat himself, doesn’t even glance at you as he walks to the bedside table and rummages around, before getting up and leaving the room. You decide to strip, not wanting him to stare at you while you do it, at least. You take off both your shirt and pants, leaving you in your underwear when Simon returns to you with a damp cloth and a few plasters. “We need to clean the wound before applying the plasters.” He deadpans as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You hesitantly nod, feeling way too naked.

“Have you done this before?” you ask dumbly, “i-is it a part of… your job, or something?”

“Sometimes.” He kneels between your legs, and you hiss when he starts to almost expertly wipe at your knees. He doesn’t stop for your cries, focus unwavering and trying to get it over as quickly as possible. You recall Johnny calling Simon “lieutenant”, and you guess their line of work was military. He carefully places plasters on the scraped areas once he finishes cleaning the wounds. He throws you out of your thought process when he sits beside you, towering over your vulnerable body, “elbow” is the only thing he says before lifting your arm. You two sit in silence as he works, his touch is surprisingly gentle, despite the lack of expression on his face - and the whole process feels clinical, as if he’s merely completing a necessary task.

“You’re lucky it’s not more serious,” he finally speaks, placing a warm hand on the back of your neck, squeezing slightly and breaking the quiet tension looming over you both. His words are cold, his voice deep, and you find yourself longing for the warmth and friendliness that Johnny had exhibited earlier. The hand stays for a bit too long before he gets up. As you put your clothes back on, Simon exits the room without a word, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You can hear the distant sounds of Johnny’s clinks and clanks in the kitchen. Descending the stairs, the delicious smell of food fills your lungs, and you’re so hungry - you realise.

“Feelin’ better, bonnie?” Johnny asks as he places three plates of food on the table. You nod, sitting down in your previous seat. It’s a simple microwavable dinner, but you almost drool. Simon sets down a wine glass in front of you all and Johnny brings a bottle, “to relax, aye?” he winks. You could use a glass of wine, to be honest, and so you let him fill your glass.

The three of you sit down to eat, and the conversation flows more naturally this time. Johnny, though still eccentric, appears to have softened his demeanour, engaging you in discussions about various topics. You find yourself laughing at some things you normally wouldn’t, you blame it on the wine and stress. As the night progresses, they suggest you take the bed - to which you reply that you can’t- won’t

“Can’t let you sleep on the sofa!” you exclaim.

“Who said anything about a sofa?” Simon shrugs. You brushed it off and assumed they had a guest room somewhere you could borrow, you were naive, you realise, now. Because that’s how you end up between them in their bed. To preserve heat in this cold climate, Johnny had said, plays with your sense of logic like a puppeteer.

At some point, he’d started touching you a bit inappropriately, and when you’d turned around to cuss him out - he’d latched his mouth to yours. Simon lies on his side, facing you two - yet not moving a muscle to help you at all. Between filthy and sloppy kisses, you manage out a “What the FUCK do you think you’re doing, Johnny!” to which he only responds with a shaky moan and rubs his growing hard-on into your thigh, “fuckin’ loooove when ye sae m’ name. Gets me so hard, lovie.”

He stops shoving his tongue down your throat to instead lick a stripe down to your neck, where he starts sucking hot open-mouth kisses into your skin. You let out a quivery breath, closing your eyes to not see the drooling man hunched over your body - the imprint of his dick tight against his jeans. You remember cumming on your vibrator to the thought of it a month back, but now you’d do anything to run away from it. A slap on your cheek brings you back to reality, the skin almost burns and tears prickle in your eyes. Simon is staring you down, while Johnny raises his body just enough to almost rip his t-shirt off of himself.

“Keep your eyes open.” It’s a demand, a scary one at that. Military men are, in theory, hot, but in practice… still hot but also terrifying. He brings his calloused fingertips to gently stroke the cheek, before gripping both of your cheeks until your lips pout and your face aches. Johnny grins crookedly, bends down and gives you an almost cute kiss before yelling “ass up!” Your body almost flies down the bed with the force he drags your pants and panties off of you, and you let out a squeal which both of the men laugh at, “P-please, I can… I can give you money” you beg through your pouty lips and make them laugh harder, “sure,” Johnny comments, “got naw money to pay rent, how are ye supposed to pay us?”

“How,” your mouth hurts, “how do you-”

Simon releases his grip on your face and moves to pet your hair.

“So talkative. Take her mouth, Johnny.”

The man almost flies up to sit next to your head, pubic hair rubbing against your cheek when he drags his leaking cock over your lips. He’s big, awfully so, and he knows it because he pulls at your chin until you open it reluctantly, “nice ‘n wide now, sae ahhh,” then sinks in. The moan he lets out almost makes you rub your thighs together, it’s filthy and pornographic, and only intensifies when you swallow around him in an attempt to not puke up the dinner you’d shared with them. Simon smacks your thigh, which makes you avert your wet eyes from Johnny to him. He continues petting your hair while his other hand simultaneously moves downwards to your pussy, body easily moving in between your legs to make it difficult for you to close them. His middle and ring fingers spread your flaps apart and tease at your hole before dragging them upwards and collecting your juices. You fight but fail the loud moan that escapes your mouth, “Y-yeah just like that- fuck…” Johnny rambles on.

It’s embarrassing, and you have to hold back from crying when you see how wet you are. Simon gladly spreads his fingers to show off, before wiping them off on Johnny’s balls, making his breath hitch, and his next thrust a bit harsher. With the hand on your head, which has since long stopped stroking, he wraps his fingers in your hair suddenly and pulls you slightly upwards. Tears trickle down your cheeks, and your sobs only rile the man in your mouth up even more. Simon gets closer to your face, almost rips your hair off of your skull and moves his still-wet fingers down to your clit, rubs painfully - almost past the point of pleasure.

“You, are never leaving.”

[ciitroner]

Ever considered writing for Price?

I think he's hot so yeahh

I've had this teacher!Price x single mom!reader idea in my head for months, maybe I'll sit down to actually write it sometime.

I fully believe he's the type of guy to get off on going down on you, slurping and practically making out with your clit. Both his hands are busy, one cramming its way in and out of your pussy, while the other is holding yours. He grazes his thumb over your knuckles lovingly while he stares at your reactions. Loves the way your thighs squeeze his head when you finally come, head thrown back against the pillow and your one free hand clutching onto your breast. When you calm down, he comes up and gives you a deep kiss, forcing you to taste yourself.

"You alright, love?"

The day after, when he hugs you from behind in the kitchen, you turn around and tug on his beard. "This will be the death of me. My thighs are burning."

"Want me to shave it?"

"...no"

He gives you a small smile, a squeeze to your butt, and walks off to make himself a cup of tea. <3

[ciitroner]

came from your robot!konig posts (really juicy stuff by the way) and I don’t think I would be the only one who wants more😭 would you bless us with a full fanfic of him? From like beginning to end from those short drabbles pretty please? (Your requests are on so it’s okay that I wrote this right?)

As long as I say that my requests are on it’s always okay to throw in stuff, and even if they’re not open you can always write something - but I’ll probably just take a longer time to answer it.

If y’all want a full fanfic of the robot!König AU I could probably cook something up. I mean, I already had everything in mind and most things were already written down on @/kneelingshadowsalome’s page

But sure!

[ciitroner]

listen, if I'm gonna be stuck in this house and if I'm cooking and cleaning

I wanna decorate!!! God damn them!! I want cute nick nacks and fancy fuckin hand towels

I work hard to make this house a home 😤

Ghost would just shrug like it’s any other day (he’s secretly very happy) then pat your head while Soap cries because he loves you so much

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this is every single member of the 141

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What does the princess treatment from the boys look like cause this 9-5 is killing me.

Back hurts, shoulders hurt, feet hurt - If it's a better deal I'll take the kidnapped by two hot men for 200.

🥲

wc: 933 warnings: fluff, you get a massage after a hard day of work :), cute ending(?)

Don't really expect anything nice unless you've "deserved it", at least that's the mentality you'll find in Simon. It's Johnny who falls first, "love at first grind" he claims, grins and humps the air behind you like an airheaded fratboy. You recall the day you met him at the bar, cringe at yourself, and wish you'd kept to your sad little house for the night. Simon doesn't understand what Johnny obsesses over, but he still lets him keep you.

He finds you a bit hot when you're angry and screaming at him, pushing you even further by not responding - only tilting his head a bit. He bets you'd even try to punch him if you weren't bound to the headboard, the dumb little thing you are. Could break your arm so easily, he bets. He finds you slightly cuter when you're clinging to him, though, sleepy and tired after a long night. So what.

Over time, he gets more and more infatuated with you - but he refuses to admit that it's love. Simon Ghost Riley doesn't love. Yet, when he sees you in the kitchen - slightly teary eyed from the harsh affectionate ass-slap you got from Johnny when you asked where the baking powder was for the cake you're practically forced to bake, he gnaws slightly on his lower lip. Johnny showed you the cupboard where the newly bought baking powder was being kept and gave you a kiss before walking away to tend to some other important matter. They don't trust you being alone yet, especially in the kitchen, so Simon had to watch over you.

You whisk the batter, trying to imagine you're anywhere but here. He's scary. Basically acting like a second shadow, following each of your movements with his cold eyes. You scoop up some of the batter from the side of the bowl with your finger and turn around towards him, raising your finger, "want a taste, S-Simon?", you mentally curse yourself over the stutter. Forced to use their real names lately, you're not used to it - you hate how out of control you feel.

"No."

He turns around and walks off to the window, not daring to leave you alone for his quick smoke break. His eyes bore into yours as you shrug and pop it in your own mouth, trying to hide the humiliation from the asshole rejection. You put the batter in the cake pan before finally opening the oven and putting it in. Your body aches, and you lean against the kitchen counter with a sigh, rubbing and half-heartedly massaging your own shoulder. They'd told you to clean the house when you had screamed last night about how disgusting and dusty everything is, and how much you hate them. Johnny had just played it off as you needing a good dicking down, and Simon had just rolled his eyes.

"How long?" His voice suddenly speaks up, beside you. You jump in fright and notice that - for a big guy, he sure is quiet as a mouse. "about 20 more minutes..." you stare up at him, silently trying to figure out why he's so interested. He hums, and ushers you to the sofa, sighing in relief when dust particles don't fly up anywhere when you both sit down. "Did a good job today. Lay down."

You lay down on your back, and half-expect him to pull a Johnny and pounce on you.

"Your stomach, love, c'mon." He turns you around, and you oblige. He shocks you when he pulls your shirt up and unclasps your bra. Simon stands over you for a few seconds, before he scoots you into the back cushions and sits on the small empty space beside your butt. You close your eyes, burrowing your head in your arms, crossed under your face. It starts with slow strokes of his calloused and rough fingers down your back, until they settle at your lower back. Two thumbs on either side of your soft back massage your muscles with precise movements. He slowly moves upwards, taking his time to shift between massaging and stroking, sometimes even brushing his fingers through your scalp. He stops to knead a sore spot under your shoulder blades when you let out a slightly pained gasp and open your eyes in shock.

You both ignore the twitch in his pants.

He focuses on that specific muscle for a while, kneading it to dough, before moving on.

-----

You yawn, open your eyes, and notice the evening glow from the sun through the window in the living room. You'd fallen asleep and forgot-

"The cake!" You try to move up from the sofa, but a tug on your foot stops you, "easy, crazy." Johnny laughs, "Simon took care of it." You notice a blanket draped over you, only exposing your knees and down, he's massaging your feet and calves, as they're laid over his thighs, "Lay back, he told me not to stop unless ye cried for me to." His eyes shift to the TV, while he continues his ministrations. You push your head onto the pillow under your head again, probably put there after you'd fallen asleep.

You sigh, the tiredness and stress from the past few weeks weighing down on your eyelids, and you comfortably drowse off before you can hear the "g'night, princess." that leaves Simon's mouth when he strokes the back of his hand over your cheek.

His slight trance is interrupted by the man beside you, "ye burnt yerself?"

Simon scoffs slightly and crosses his arms, "forgot to use those pink fuckin' oven mitts you bought."

[ciitroner]

Are you aware of the things going on in the COD fandom right now?

Like a month after i start my blog too😭

I woke up about an hour ago to my feed filled with these types of asks and people a bit more involved and cunning who answer. Apparently, there've been mass reportings of noncon/dubcon fics and someone writing underage stuff which is honestly so disgusting.

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ghoap x reader but theyre all hatefucking

what a sight

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What if Y/N tries to kill herself because her kidnappers Johnny and Simon won’t let her go ,or kill them in desperation to get back. Anyway backstory 3 when I need to know how she gets herself kidnapped😞😩

Warnings: slight nsfw, mention of murder and suicide (nothing too extreme, I think. Yet, if you’re uncomfortable, don’t continue. It gets worse and worse.)

This is probably a boring answer: they’re smart people, they know not to leave anything sharp or something else you could hurt yourself with near you. Your handcuffs surely do the work of sometimes making you bleed if you move too much, trying and failing to get out.

If they’ve had a relatively good day, they’ll let your hands out of the cuffs. Bringing your almost limp body up to its feet (you haven’t moved much, as you were obviously cuffed during the hours they were gone.

“Cannae let ye out of yer cage, birdie.” You don’t trust them, they don’t trust you.

You get slightly lightheaded as Soap plays with you like a ragdoll cat, it’s tolerable until it’s not. He makes you do deep stretches, kicks your feet apart and bends you down - pushes his dick into your clothed cunt, and calls you his good little kitty. You make an effort to punch him between the legs while bent, although you don’t make it very far until Ghost grips your arm tightly.

You hiss and almost tear up, and they notice the slight bleeding. They’ll set you down on the bathroom counter and care for you, in their own ways. Your heart slightly softens in these moments, when it feels like they actually care like normal people, but they’re not normal people. And you know that very well.

Maybe something happens and they both have to run out of the bathroom to fix something. Gives you enough time to search for something sharp in the bathroom. You find a small pocket knife, and decide it’s your saviour.

Highly unlikely, but if you’re able to sneak up behind one of them and stab them in the back, you’ll get yourself a hard shove from the other, and you’ll get treated even worse afterwards. The knife was not enough to kill, but only enough to worsen the situation.

You stab yourself, they’ll find you before it’s lethal and make sure you never leave their eyesight ever again. They’ll be soft until your wounds heal, but their coldness manages to make you shiver still.

Fun answer: you kill one of them, the other will kill you, before killing himself. I cant see any of them wanting to live on alone, nor live with you without wanting to strangle the air out of your lungs everytime they see you.

Let’s say you kill them both, you’ll escape! Hopefully you’ll remember one of their passwords and being able to call the police. And then you spend the rest of your life in therapy, probably.

You manage to kill yourself! Congrats. They’re gonna keep your body :D

(Or well it kinda depends, if it’s the first month they’d probably bury you. If it’s gone maybe a year, they’d keep it since they can’t handle being without you. If it’s been a few years maybe they’ll join you in the afterlife)

[ciitroner]

You mentioned in one of your that the reader refuses to call them by their name. Is it because they haven’t told her? I’d think they’d want to hear reader moan their name 🙊

Oh they absolutely tell her, it’s coming in part 3 (I promise I’m writing it’s just that it never turns out the way I want to and I’ve deleted like 3 different versions😭😭)

So I’m thinking it’s more of a mental resistance where they still want to believe that they’re in control of at least something. Like “yeah you’ve got me locked up but I can still talk back” to prove that they’re not easy to break and that soap and ghost should just let them go. (They won’t💀)

They tell you their real names (when you’re all still on.. good terms), and you reply sweetly - testing to sound out their names and yk that boioioioing sound effect? Yeah that’s their dicks. At least you know what they want and you won’t give it to them. You’re not going to submit easily but they like a challenge. They’re never letting you go back home so it’s either live with them happily and they’ll treat you (almost) like an equal, or keep resisting which gets you punishments.

[ciitroner]

okok here me out!!! you said that reader had to sell most of her items because they had to pay for things. i imagine reader bringing their nice clothing to consignment shops or even selling online (maybe ebay or poshmark??) anyways, what if johnny and simon were keeping tabs on reader prior to that night at the bar.

what if johnny and simon were the ones buying their items? if they were doing it out of the kindness of their hearts, or if they simply bought the items to ready their room in the basement.. well i’ll have you decide.

Part 2 of 3 of the backstory

Wc: 1.4k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, not proofread, slight exhibitionism and voyeurism, alcohol intake (you’re bordering on tipsy), possessive behaviour, Johnny being a horndog, mention of kidnapping, clothed grinding, tell me if I missed any!

———

Interesting thought! I don't believe they would be the ones to buy your things though, as they have no interest in your old stuff. Simon and Johnny are nasty men, they get off on the fact that nothing in the cottage they're keeping you in belongs to you. You’re drinking some juice with your breakfast? Yeah, you’re going to have to use Simon’s mug, and don't believe that Johnny won't steal a gulp or two from the drink. The clothes you’re wearing all belong to them, apart from underwear (if they could, they would - honestly, but they don’t want to scare you off. As if they haven't already. Besides, it makes it easier for the panty sniffing…) Also, while you’re selling your stuff, they didn't know who you were yet! They may or may not have come across you at the café/restaurant you were working at, but only from afar - in those cases you were never assigned as their waitress. Both Simon and Johnny have always felt that there’s something missing, yeah they’re undeniably happy together - but yet… in the 1000-piece puzzle, only 999 have been put together and the last one’s been lost.

They didn't know that the last piece of their puzzle was right under their noses, so when they turn their full attention to you for the first time, a summer night, at a bar they crashed at to let loose - they find the last puzzle piece.

Dancing and pausing now and then to take a sip of your second drink, only to go back to swaying your hips on the dance floor right after. The dress you’re wearing compliments your curves, and your pretty lips lip-sync to the song blasting from the speakers.

It’s Johnny who jumps up first from his seat, leaving his beloved lieutenant behind, to approach the beautiful woman who caught their attention. He startles you at first, hands finding your thighs and pulling you flush against him. He chuckles lowly at your little jump and yelp, before you look behind yourself and meeting his bright blue eyes. Furthermore, he gives you a toothy smile, which is hard not to reciprocate, and you face forward again - dancing with him to the beat of the song, one hand on the back of his neck, travelling upwards to grab at his mohawk occasionally, and the other wandering. It’s curious, grabs at his bulging biceps, strokes the side of his face when he lays his head on your shoulder - kissing and sucking hickies into your neck, and grabs the hand groping at your thighs. His eyes meet with Simon’s when you aren’t paying attention, slowly turning you to face him so he could watch the show as he pleased.

It starts off innocent, or well - as innocent as slow grinding can be. You’re both enjoying each other's company, and he keeps his hands mostly to himself at first before becoming bolder. His head lifts off of your shoulder to bury it in your hair, and he takes a big whiff. Weird, you think at first, but shrug it off soon enough as he pulls you against him a bit harsher, his half hard cock desperately searching for your pussy through the layers of clothing. You hum softly when it rubs against you, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t wet at the moment. The man behind you whistles lowly when you start rubbing back against him, which encourages him to be braver. He moves a forearm in front of you and wraps it around your midsection, palm splayed open on your stomach. His other hand moves up to brush against your breasts, before gripping your chin. He relishes in your gasp, glad he heard it over the loud music that he’s now practically humping you to. He meets Simon’s eyes one last time, before angling your head towards him and leaning in to brush his lips against yours, “name’s Soap.” He says, right before diving in for a treat.

He’s good at kissing… and dancing, you note. Perhaps it was the alcohol in your system that made your body practically beg for the stranger behind you, but soon enough you’re leading the hand on your chin down to your breasts again. Which he gladly complies to, and moans at the feeling of fat under his hand, reaction clearly being seen in the palm on your stomach trembling slightly. You swear you can feel his dick throb, and you wonder if he’s fully hard yet, or if the dick that was slowly growing against your back throughout the night to what now was a beast had yet to reach it’s end goal. Said hand travels down to your thighs, rubbing circles into it, before giving it a harsh slap and finally breaking away from your kiss and turning you around. You almost lose your balance, but he keeps you steady - feeding the butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey, bonnie.” he grins, moving his hands to grab at your waist, manipulating you to be chest to chest with him. You can clearly feel his irritated cock on your stomach through his denim jeans, and you have to push down the urge to get down on your knees right in the middle of the bar. Face to face, you get a good look at him. He’s handsome, his physique complimented by an equal face. You both have to lean slightly closer to each other to be able to hear over the loud music, “Hi… Soap” you giggle at the unusual nickname, although almost back off immediately after at his peculiar reaction. His whole body almost shudders, and the hands on your waist quickly grab you harshly and lift you slightly off the ground. He grinds his dick right between your thighs, and it catches onto your clit - to which you moan loudly and fall forward into him.

“Ah fuck” he groans, bites his lip and moves you- rather indiscreetly, to a close corner of the dance floor. The wall hits your back and you moan into your second kiss when a hand moves closer and closer to where you need him, fingers dancing over the fabric of your dress, “ye’re pure soakin’, eh?” his fingers leave you, but before you can mourn the loss, he’s got his thigh propped up against you.

“S-Soap” you sweetly moan for him, and he feels as though he could die right there, leave for the pits of hell and still be satisfied. “C’mon lass,” he coos at your uneven grinding, and smirks at your nails digging into his shoulders, “drench my thigh, ‘n then we’ll deal with the formalities, aye?”

You circle and roll your whole body into the erratic movements, desperate but good enough to have both your pussy and mouth drooling. The music slowly becomes background sounds and the thing on the loudest volume in Johnny’s head is your moans and gasps. He decides to eat them, thus places his lips on yours once more - urging your hips to grind harder. Everything’s well until you pull away from your shared kiss only to have your eyes be met with a large man in a black balaclava. He was way bigger than Soap, and that was saying a lot. Your shocked scream got Soap tensing up, and looking behind himself. He sighs and slaps your cheek lightly with two fingers, “ye wee glaikit lass” he laughs, “thought you’d seen a ghost.”

You awkwardly laugh along and untangle your limbs, though, Soap isn’t letting you go at all. “Brilliant reaction in that case, as is his name.” He throws you a wink, while the man behind him only just stares at you. His black hoodie and jeans, paired with a pair of combat boots - make him blend into the dark background of the bar. You wouldn’t have noticed him if he didn’t want to be noticed. He finally lifts his hand and grasps the back of Soap’s neck, scruffing him, before leaning down to almost yell over the loud music into his ear, brown eyes never leaving yours. “Behave, sergeant.” And that’s all he needs to do before Soap reluctantly releases you and responds with an eye roll. “S’ry beauty, the beast needs me elsewhere.”

They both turn to leave but halt their movements when you shout your name towards them.

That was your second mistake.

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Real

[ciitroner]

i loved your ghoap x reader fic so much omg, was it just a one shot or will there be more to the kidnapper au? 🧡🧡 (also looking forward to keeping up with your blog!)

Thanks xoxo I’m glad you liked it

Ooh I could definitely add more to the kidnapper au if y’all want to!! Here’s a bit of a backstory drabble:)

Part 1 of 3

Wc: ~500

Warnings: nothing really, maybe a teeny tiny bit angsty.

Sigh

Recently fired from your waitress job, you’re slowly becoming short on money - and your landlord isn’t the sweetest guy per se. No other workplace accepts, some leaving sorry messages and others never answering. Maybe you had done something in your previous life to leave you in such a predicament, but it’s nothing you can help now. It starts with selling a few belongings, maybe your favourite mug which soon escalates to an instrument you’d saved up for for a long time, and when it ends in you selling the sofa you decide you’ve had enough. Another frustrated sigh leaves your lips, and you almost throw your phone against a wall, only stopping yourself because of the thought that the repair bill would be way more than you could handle. Around three months after your unemployment is the second time the landlord gives you the warning that he doesn’t like late payments, and by the fourth he’s telling you to get yourself together. As if it’s that easy. The universe isn’t on everyone’s side. By the fifth month, you only have your bed, a dumb vibrator - low on battery, and a few other things here and there.

“Get out as quick as possible, find yourself another place.” He crosses his arms, leaning on the doorframe and staring into your empty apartment from the tiny crack you’ve let out in your front door.

“P-please! I don’t have anywhere else to live. You need- have to understand.” You plead and plead on deaf ears. Words seemingly go in, and quickly get flicked out from the pinky roaming around his ear. He sighs and tells you to leave before two weeks, and closes the door on your face - almost catching your nose in the process.

For the first time in weeks the tears you’ve been holding back to convince yourself that you’re strong start to fall, and soon enough - you’re sobbing on the floor while leaning against your front door. Your eyes sting and the cries that fly out your mouth makes you cringe, pitying yourself even more. Salty tears catch on the corners of your lips and you wish you were anywhere but here. If only… if only. If only you were born a nepo baby, if only you had friends to depend on, if only you had your own Prince Charming to wipe your tears. After a while of sniffling you mutter a “whatever” to yourself, getting up from the fetal position to wash your face.

While washing up, you have a mental debate on whether to call an old friend of yours, and soon enough your phone beeps with each outgoing ring. “Hello?”

She sounds enthusiastic to talk to you after so long and sympathies with you. Explains that you absolutely can stay in the guest bedroom of her and her boyfriend's house until you get your life together again. It feels so long since you smiled, but at the moment - your cheeks hurt, because maybe everything isn’t against you after all. Thank you’s fly out your mouth every other second until you finally say your goodbyes. And well, maybe you could indulge yourself in something nice for once. You decide on a bar, before fixing your makeup and putting on your prettiest dress that you hadn’t the heart to sell.

That was your first mistake.

[ciitroner]

Rough Day

Ghoap x kidnapped!reader

Wc: 1.3k

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI), afab!reader, noncon/dubcon-ish???, not proofread, kidnapping, oral sex (fem receiving), cunnilingus, reader is kinda touch starved, dark fic, mentions of creampie, Simon and Johnny are mean :(, Simon calls Johnny “pup” (once), voyeurism, one-time-mention of pee (not piss kink), reader is restrained and threatened (kinda), Soap acts like a wild animal sorry that’s how it goes 🤷‍♀️, also reader refuses to call them by their names lol, tell me if I missed any!

The sounds of clinks and jingles can be heard as the numerous locks unlock on the door, “Fuuuck. Hate this fuckin’ job sometimes.” You hear a deep, frustrated voice groan, paralleling the whistling creak of the wooden rectangle. Some hefty objects, perhaps a few bags, are thrown on the ground, and another voice replies curtly, “Manners, Johnny.”

Their heavy footsteps slowly move around the house, which is located in the middle of pretty much nowhere. Your breath hitches when the steps move closer to the dark room you’re locked in, chained to the headboard of their shared bed. They don’t come in yet, though, acting as if you don’t even exist. Acting as if they didn’t take you away from your life, locking you up in a house for them to play dolly with you. “Eh? Dinnae act like yer not agreein’ with me, Lt” the muffled voice rumbles from the other side of your door, coming closer and closer, until a ray of light peeks through the doorcrack that keeps getting bigger. He swiftly moves into the room and turns on the ceiling light, a poor little lightbulb hanging by an old cord. The sudden shift in brightness makes you blink a few times until your eyes adjust. You’re sure they have way more money than they’re letting on; yet they keep their pretty prisoner in a humble house - which could only be described as something from a cliché horror film. “Hey, lassie.”

His eyes meet yours, and you writhe against the headboard, trying to break free - albeit for naught. Your wrists hurt from the previous numerous attempts, and you quickly give up and settle down when he moves into the room, sighing. He sheds his clothes, only leaving him in his boxers, before he lies down on the bed next to you, lifting your tank top slightly and circling his cold finger on your stomach - dipping it down to the hem of your sweatpants from time to time. You shiver slightly and let out an audible gasp, trying to squirm free from his touch. “Had a rough day, lovie. Dinnae test me, aye?” He kisses your tummy before squeezing your waist with one hand and holding up his head with the other whilst lying on his side. Ghost moves into the room, and your eyes shift to his figure in the doorway. Soap notices your absent eyes and looks behind him, “Simon, need’ta fuck her.” In which the masked man only shrugs, “Go on then, pup.” Before chucking off his clothes as well, changing into a pair of sweatpants, and sitting down on the bed beside you.

The creaking bed dips down to one side, and you look over at Ghost, his muscles left on display. He’s big, and that’s accentuated by the phone he pulls out. It’s small in his hands, and you bet that he’s pressed the wrong letter on the keyboard one too many times because of his big fingers - which are twice as large as one of your own. Without the mask, now replaced with a balaclava, you can much easier see his brown eyes, and the fluttering blonde eyelashes every time he blinks. He starts mindlessly scrolling somewhere, furrowing his brows sporadically, but your attention is quickly shifted back to the man now between your legs.

“C’mon, lift yer hips.” His hands find the hem of your pants, but you refuse to budge. As grateful you are for the two to be back, as human contact is near impossible in your… new life, you hate when they touch you. Ghost appears to understand your situation slightly, or at least he seems to pretend-empathize with the ill-fated girl lying on their bed, “Easy, Johnny. Poor thing looks like she’s about to wet herself.” He snorts, sharing a laugh with the man forcefully tugging your bottoms off. The panic in your eyes is clear as day, when he carelessly throws them somewhere behind him, letting them scatter on the slightly dusty wooden floor. His fingers find your clit, and he slowly circles it, playing with it like a toy while he converses with Ghost for a bit. You don’t listen in, but try to focus on not getting wet, though his skilled fingers and the shackles aren't giving you much freedom.

After a while of kicking his legs back and forth like a teenage girl talking to her crush whilst lying on her stomach, Soap turns his head to you - giving you a toothy grin. He positions himself on his knees, dick throbbing against his boxers. He grips your thighs and pulls you closer to him before removing his fingers from your clit and moving his head down to kiss it, darting out his tongue and licking down to your hole. “Fuck, hen, yer pussy n’ yer attitude are givin’ me two whole different signals.” He inhales loudly, and you let out a quiet whine. You’ve learned that they either like it when you talk back to them or hate it - which leads to you getting gagged; and not trying to test the waters - you bite your lips instead. “Only if ye were a wee bit better actor, maybe I’d believe yer complaints, bonnie.” And with that, he starts eating you out like a starving man. He leaves no place untouched, bites your inner thighs and grins when you close them on his head - trapping him between them.

His wet tongue glides over your glistening pussy, pushing it into you before travelling upwards. You choke back a sob of pleasure when two of his fingers start dancing around your hole while he sucks on your clit - biting it occasionally for the pleasure of hearing a moan leave your mouth. It’s downright filthy, and he keeps mumbling incoherent things to your pussy, before plunging his fingers into you. A loud whine leaves your mouth, followed by sweet little ah’s, which prompts him to groan against you. “Yeah, good girl, moanin’ like a bitch in heat.” Your head flies back and your toes curl at the third finger he crams into you. Pouting, you look to the side, not being able to bear the sight of Soap hunched over your bottom half like a wild man. Your eyes meet Ghost’s for a short second, before they travel down to the bulge between his pants, clearly aroused by the action going on beside him. His eyes are half-lidded, and you can tell he’s smiling at you before palming his clothed dick and looking down at Soap fingering you to oblivion.

Soap scissors his fingers and licks his name onto your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Suddenly, a loud mewl can be heard from you when you finally cum. Your eyes are closed shut, and only open when Ghost lightly slaps your cheeks, “Open your eyes, sweetheart. Come on.” You almost let out a scream when you’re met face to face with Soap. His jaw is wet, and his mouth is drooling. His leaking cock’s hard against your stomach and twitches slightly when he pulls you in for a deep kiss. “mmph taste so fuckin’ good” he moans against your mouth, biting your lower lip. One hand leaves your hips to guide his cock to your wet cunt, and you sigh because apparently, the concept of condoms doesn’t exist in the scot’s head. You feel like you need a break though, so when he tries to push in, you attempt to stop him with a weak, “W-wait I-”

His other hand leaves your hip and squishes your cheeks together until your lips form a cute little pout, which he can’t help but kiss. “Haud yer wheesht” he hisses, and pushes his cock into you faster than you’d like. Ghost pets your hair and softly speaks, “Don’t be greedy, let him cum and spread you out for me, hm?” Your lips quiver and they both laugh at you, “be a good girl, and you’ll get treated like a princess afterwards, love.”