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mistyresolve · 5 months

Text

| RTB - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Pilot Reader

Word Count - 3.4k

Summary - The reader is the pilot, AKA Stitch, of an apache helicopter, one the most dangerous, advanced killers in the sky. She’s been the 141′s go-to when they need aerial support for a year. After their latest mission, Ghost seeks out Stitch to offer a special thank you.

Warnings/Tags - 18+ ONLY, swearing, dry humping, switch, unprotected sex, creampie

A/N - If you haven't already, I would suggest you read Incident Report before this one

Masterlist ❤︎

Soot and smoke coated Ghost’s tongue and every breath felt like an attack on his lungs. The smell of burning flesh and gunpowder made his head spin. All that combined with adrenaline and anger, it was his life support. He clung to his senses with a feverish need. Rubble and bullet shells littered the ground around them. His once-black uniform took on a greyish hue from all the dust. Sweat rolled down his back and he had to blink it from his eyes.

Beside him, Price was on the radio, his outrage tangible as he called for aerial backup for a third time, “I’ve got my men pinned here! Where the fuck is my support!”.

Ghost felt a bullet's heat as it raced past the exposed skin of his neck, leaving behind the ghost of a burn. He ducked down behind the concrete barrier, cursing at himself, “We won’t be able to hold this position for much longer, Price. We need a plan to get us the fuck out of here,” Simon repositioned himself for a better vantage point. Ghost had long since run out of ammo and had resorted to picking up magazines from his dead comrades. He silently thanked every one of them, ripping off the dog tags from the few he could to take back to base with him.

Price gave him a curt nod, “Chopper is five minutes out. They were diverted from another mission.” his face was grim and every muscle in his body was taut, readying to run for new cover or the bite of a bullet. Five minutes was a lot of time in situations like this, a lot could happen in a matter of seconds. He could die in half that.

The team was forced into a corner of the compound, and they were getting hammered. There was nowhere left to go. He kept one eye on the darkening sky beyond the compound's wall, hoping to catch a glimpse of the incoming heli. He figured the pilots on board would have reached out by now, but the radio remained utterly and eerily silent.

He craned his neck, hearing the distant sound of its propellors, but with the ruckus around them, it was difficult to determine exactly how far out it was. Something in his soul urged him to bring his radio to his mouth, “We’re in the southwest corner,” he was speaking to the pilots, who were most likely biding their time before revealing their presence to the enemy. If that were the case they were probably dark, using minimal instruments to keep their profile as discreet as possible.

Then he saw it. The slightly darker patch of sky.

Then it was firing, and screams followed.

And just like that, this fight was shifted in their favour.

Bursts of orange and red as fire erupted from the helicopter's guns in erratic intervals, and in between they would shift positions, making it nearly impossible to predict where they would shoot from next.

Then a very familiar voice came across the radio, “Hello boys.”

An involuntary smile split across Ghost’s face.

“You’re fashionably late,” Price quipped back.

“And here I thought you’d be excited to see us,” you replied as you dipped the heli back behind the walls, using it as cover as you moved closer to the closed gates keeping them from their escape, “Should I knock?”

They didn’t bother with a reply before Dutch let loose, blasting open the gates. You could nearly hear his smile, “Ladies first.”

Being diverted from a different mission meant you didn’t have nearly enough firepower or fuel to do any real damage, but you could do enough so the soldier below would be able to breathe a little and regain their footing.

You glanced down at your fuel gauge, cursing, “We’ve got five minutes of fuel before we’re RTB. Give me some targets,” You couldn’t stop yourself from searching the ground below in hopes of seeing a familiar figure.

Someone pointed a laser at one of the watchtowers, marking it and the people within as prey. You angled the aircraft, giving Dutch a clear view of the tower. With the help of the last HELLFIRE missile you had, it was desecrated in a matter of seconds.

The floodlights that were pointed to the outside of the compound turned on, momentarily blinding you. The enemy used the distraction to shoot back at you. Bullets dinged off the sides of the Apache.

“Smoke!” someone called from over the radio.

“Flares,” your muscle memories kicked in, your thumb finding the appropriate buttons as your eyes still had yet to adjust. Somewhere beyond the cockpit, you heard as your flares interrupt your death. You gritted your teeth, you weren’t sure you had the firepower left to fight this fight, but the thought of leaving those guys down there helpless wasn’t one you were willing to have.

Your attention snagged on the fuel.

You didn’t have a choice. You were already cutting it close.

Dutch listed off what he had left to throw at him. The list was devastatingly short.

“I have one more good run before I have to turn back.”

Another laser pointed to a truck on the other side of the now blown open door, a mounted machine gun giving suppressant fire to the ground crew. With that truck, even with the gate opened, they weren’t going anywhere.

“Copy,” Dutch replied, his head already turned and locking in on the target. He unloaded the last of his rounds into the truck and the surrounding area.

Reluctantly, you pulled back from the fight, “We’re RTB,” again you search for Ghost amongst the group. Finally catching the flash of white of his skull mask. The nerves that gripped your chest loosened, “And as much as I love these play dates with you guys try and stay out of trouble will you?”

You’d arrived back to base a few hours ago but still had yet to change out of your jumpsuit. You were immediately dragged into a debrief. You checked your watch for what seemed like the hundredth time since this meeting began.

Task Force 141 has yet to return, and you were beginning to ruminate. While in the sky it was easier to ignore your feelings, having to focus on not being struck by an anti-air and falling out of the sky didn’t allow for such mundane activities. Now that you were on the ground, you had all the time and safety in the world to just think.

You could say that’s why you loved flying so much. You’d never be able to say it out loud under the fear that you’d be grounded for a month under the mental health act; but, you’d sooner die than give up flying.

Suppressing a yawn you sat next to Dutch in the room, arms crossed and legs stretched out in front of you. Your eyes grew heavy as you blinked up at the screen before you. You leaned closer to Dutch, “You think they’d notice if I just left?”

A mischievous smile tugged at his mouth, “Not if you crawled.”

You pinched his thigh, scowling, “You’re a pervert.”

There were probably twenty other people in this room right now. You could undoubtedly sneak out.

A shiver raced down your spine, and your instinct told you that someone was looking at you. You peeked over your shoulder and locked eyes with the tall ominous figure standing at the back of the room. His hand still hovering over the doorknob. He jerked his chin to the hallway. A silent invitation to join him.

Dutch was already rolling his eyes in pretend irritation, “You’re boyfriend beckons you.”

You made a face at him, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Tell him that.”

You bit your lip to keep from grinning at the idea. You two were by no means together. Not to say that there wasn’t something there that could potentially foster such as relationship, but now wasn’t the right time. Neither of you had the time or the means for it. It would only compromise both of your work.

And relationships between two soldiers were frowned upon by the higher-ups.

You stood up silently, kicking Dutches ankles on your way by.

Ghost slipped out of the room all too silently. You met him just down the hall.

His eyes dipped to your chest and heated. You removed the top of your jumpsuit and tied it around your waist, revealing the plain black tank underneath that did everything right to show off your curves.

Then he was looking everywhere but you, his shoulders tensing, before he started to walk down the hallway. You fell into pace beside him.

You check over him, looking for any signs of injury. Once satisfied that you couldn’t find anything you tilted your face up to his, “You guys should've had an aircraft on standby for that mission,” you reprimanded, half annoyed with him for getting into danger.

He shrugged, “It was supposed to be covert.”

You analyzed his dark uniform, perfect for blending into the night and the shadows. He didn’t have his gun, and he carried his tactical vest in his hand.

“You guys were lucky we had enough fuel to divert our route. What if we weren’t there?” you bit out, anger flushing your skin.

He opened a door for you. The door to his accommodations, you realized. You couldn’t help but notice the space still smelled like you. Or your signature scene of eucalyptus and lavender. You’ve been spending a condemning amount of time here, and with him.

“Good thing we’re lucky,” he pulled at the words with his tongue before turning back to you, eyes flashing to your figure again. His hands reached down to the know that kept your jumpsuit tied to your waist and tugged you closer to him, his other hand wrapping around the back of your neck. You could still smell the fight on him. Dirt and smoke. A now familiar smell.

Your fingers hooked around his belt loops. Heat radiated off of him and warmed your front. Already you were breathless.

He shook his head, “It’s a damn good thing you were there.”

A question formed and you tilted your head at him, lips parting, “How did you know to tell us where you were? How did you know we were already there?” You had made sure your ETA was skewed to disorientate the enemy if they had access to your guys’ comms.

“I figured there was a reason you guys were dark,” his hand traced the lines of your body, memorizing the feel of you under his fingers. They twitched impatiently against you. He slowly walked you backwards to the door to his bedroom, taking his time in watching you stumble over your weakening knees. “How can I thank you?”

If he could read your mind and all the filthy thoughts that popped into your mind, he hid it well. Your ears burned in chagrin. You tugged his shirt out from his pants, diving underneath to touch his skin, “Let me touch you.”

Ghost bit back a hiss when you dug your nails into his abdomen. He kicked the door closed behind him, reaching back only to lock it. Within seconds, his shirt was discarded somewhere on the floor, his muscles on full display as he did so. Your mouth went dry and the sight and the heat that was just at the tips of your ears shot down between your legs. No amount of time would ever tire you of seeing this man undress.

Next was his mask, revealing the devilishly beautiful man underneath. The only way you could describe him was as “sinful”. Black still smeared across his features but it only accentuated his features.

Fuck, you would eat out of the palm of his hand if he told you to.

Whatever he saw on your face made him look away from you with a shy smile, a breath of a laugh escaping him.

You brought his face back to yours, and you had to stand on your toes to reach his mouth. You’d be a fool to think that the kiss was anything but greedy. His mouth immediately opened to yours and he tilted your head with a hand to deepen it. You pressed yourself into him, needing to feel him against every inch of you. A calloused hand reached to touch the bare skin under your tank and traced the line of your spine. Your tongue brushed against him, and you turned to liquid.

He undid the knot of your jumpsuit, and you stepped out of it. Leaving you bare apart from the tank top, a bra, and underwear.

This time, it was your turn to guide him. You took him to his bed, “Lay down.”

He didn’t waste a second and pulled you down with him. You were a tangle of limbs before you planted your knees on either side of his hips. With shaking fingers, you shamelessly outlined the lines and curves of his abs and chest.

Not once did either of you break the kiss, which had become a mess of breath and lips and teeth.

You pressed your hips into his, finding his own arousal there. He groaned at the pressure, hands flying to your waist, and pulling you harder to him. Already a carnal heat that only showed up when you were with him was building somewhere low in your womb. And even lower still.

God, he felt good.

He was going to be the death of you. You were going to burn up in his arms until there was nothing left of you but your need for him.

He paused for a second, his hand disappearing under the waistband of his pants to readjust himself to better align with your strides. You tested, feeling the full length of him pressed to your core, “Carry on,” before his smile could take form it fell away to a hiss when you began a languid pace.

You rolled yourself down on him, your mouth finding the pulse at his throat and licked a stripe it.

Simon liked to pride himself on his control over his needs. He wasn’t a teenage boy after all. He was a man who was more than capable of asserting some sort of rule over his body.

Until just now.

Right then, his entire mind went blank.

He wasn’t sure if he had inhaled too much smoke or if he over-exerted himself today, but that control was nowhere to be seen. His hands fell to your thighs, allowing you full reign on the speed and intensity.

You felt a knot at the apex of your tights tighten, and the liquid arousal that accompanied your desire. You hadn’t even cum yet and you were already soaking through your panties and his pants.

Your kisses to his skin turn into hot desperate breaths, and it sent tingles throughout his body. Your moans were like fuel to a flame and it was driving him insane.

You clung to him, his skin slick with yours and his sweat, as you chased after your climax. He let you use him however you needed. Some ludicrous and giddy part of him revelled at the fact that he wasn’t even inside you and you were still half-wild for him.

Suddenly, your pace stuttered and became erratic. That knot finally loosened and you melted onto him, your body twitching, but you maintained some form of a rhythm.

You pulled back to look at him, his eyes squeezed shut and his bottom lips pulled between his teeth.

You felt him jerk under you, pressing himself impossibly closer to you, his mouth falling open into a downright filthy moan.

You welcomed the wet warmth between him and you that followed.

You chased after his release with him.

You also came back down with him, slowing down to a purr on top of him.

He was breathless, his body jolting with every change of direction.

He would have been a little embarrassed for cumming in his pants if it hadn’t felt so fucking good.

“So sensitive,” you crooned, drawing a line from his heart to the line of hair that faded into the cover of his pants. At first, you weren’t sure he heard you, but then he was growling and flipping you off him. You were face down on the bad, trapped underneath him, his knees moving to spread your legs apart.

“Shouldn’ve said that,” he snarled, his voice dangerous.

He pressed himself into your backside.

He was still devastatingly hard.

You whimpered into his bed, arching your back.

A hand slapped your clothes pussy and you mewled at him in understanding.

Do. Not. Move.

Then the fingers of the same hand outlined your folds over the already damp fabric, focusing on your clit. With his weight on top of you giving your lungs little room to expand and the fact that your brain was short-circuiting your breaths become shallow and unproductive.

He pressed his fingers into your cunt, the only thing keeping him from actually entering you was your panties.

You writhed, desperate for friction. A second slap against your heat stilled you.

“Ohmygod,” you breathed, your legs trembling.

He pushed the cursed fabric down your legs, stopping at your knees. His fingers delved into the slickness there. He swore, almost impressed with how wet you actually were.

Spread your arousal everywhere, across your folds, the sides of your thighs, up to the rounds of your ass. He wanted you a mess in his bed. And you were. You weren’t sure if you were drooling or not, but there was a high chance you were.

Then his attention was back at your core, finger sliding into you without so much as a warning. Your greedy pussy tightened around his fingers, milking them as if they were his cock. His approving groan was nearly enough to send you over the edge. He was whispering naughty, impish things into your ear. Your name rolled off his tongue in a way that made to want to scream.

Still sensitive from before, it didn’t take much from him to entice another orgasm from you. Time wrapped but it couldn’t have been less than a minute before you were spasming around his fingers, and your mind was momentarily fried.

He was whispering in your ear. Your comprehension went out the window so didn’t know what he was saying but from the tone of his voice, he was mocking you.

You felt him shift so he was behind you. He attempted to knock your legs further apart but your panties were still locked around your knees, tying them together.

You felt something warm and velvety soft tap at your entrance. Once, twice. He slid his cock between his fld, coating himself in you.

He asked you a question, probably for permission. The thought that you could string together a coherent sentence right now was laughable. You weren’t even sure you could be trusted to provide your own name.

You could only nod and with your last dregs of will, lift your hips to his.

There was no amount the sex or foreplay that could prepare you for the sheer fucking size of him. He wasn’t just long, not that his eight inches was something to roll your eyes at, but he was thick. Thick enough that when you took him into your mouth, your jaw would ache for days afterward. He was always gentle and never shoved himself inside you like an animal, but you still needed a few seconds to catch your breath each time.

The broken sound that same out of you was naughty, and Simon had to bite his lip to keep from cumming from the sound alone. You were also impossibly tight, but he’d be damned if he got bested by you a second time tonight.

He cruised into a fast pace, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. The tip of his dick hit your cervix with every thrust. And with every retreat, he brushed against your g spot.

In these moments, there was only him. Only the sounds of his breath, and the feel of his skin. It made him addicting. When with him, especially like this, it was like a moment of reprieve from worries and stresses in life.

The world could be ending and you wouldn’t care. There could be air raids and a fire outside your door and you would still feel completely safe with him. Death and hurt couldn’t reach you when you were in his arms.

His rhythm faltered when you squeezed around him, and he cursed, his arms moved from your ass to brace around you. He just arms shook to keep from crushing you.

He could feel you quivering, both around him and beneath him as your third orgasm approached.

You were going to be the death of him, and he didn’t mind one bit.

You writhed under him as you reached your undoeing, unsure if you wanted him further in or out of you.

You could feel his seed spurt out of him, and coat your inner walls. You could feel his cock twitch with every spray.

He started to slow, letting you reel yourself back into your body. You were spooled out across his bed, onto the floor, floating in the air.

He slid off the bed, carefully tucking himself back into his pants. Which, only now did you realize he didn’t have the patient to remove. He was all wandering eyes and a rueful grin. He was slightly out of breath when he spoke, “So sensitive.”

A/N: You like that?

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #cod fanfic #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #cod smut #call of duty smut

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acapelladitty · 4 months

Text

friction and harmony

Pairing: Cooper Howard/Lucy Maclean

Summary: One cruel incident pushes Lucy over the edge and a fight with Cooper turns physical in a way which changes their dynamic forever. (4.7k words)

(warnings for: blood, gun violence, first time sex, biting, rough sex, heavy petting, unprotected sex, arguments, verbal cruelty, desperation, physical violence, mutual orgasm, mild foreplay)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Keeping close to the fire as the approaching night stole the heat from the air, Lucy couldn't stop her racing, disjointed thoughts from playing the earlier days events with Cooper in a grim and repeating loop. With every passing moment, she could feel the annoyance in her chest roiling anew and her mouth set into a tight line as she recalled her role in the violence.

The handkerchief coming away from his lips stained with fresh blood, the old man who had introduced himself as Mr. Daniels glared at it distastefully as he recovered from his coughing fit and returned the filthy rag to his inner pocket.

"Nasty bit of business." Mr. Daniels muttered, mostly to himself, before glancing back at the pair who stood with their caps in hand. "But anyway, what was my offer again? Oh, yeah. Twenty caps, three vials."

"Seems reasonable."

Casting Lucy a withering look at her audible enthusiasm, Cooper clearly disagreed with her naive assessment.

"I could make your fine ass walk to the next town over and get me five vials for half that." He was quick to counter, crossing his arms over his chest as Cooper split his attention between Lucy and the obvious tremble of the old mans limbs as he struggled to bring his lit cigarette to his lips. "So let's re-assess the situation here."

Mr. Daniels shrugged with a nasty cough as he cleared his throat of phlegm. "Can't do any better than that. Got shit to buy and shit to pay off."

His face sunken and pallid, the old man was clearly unwell. Most likely dying, if the bloodied handkerchief was anything to go by, and Lucy felt a swell of pity in her heart as she listened to Cooper continue to argue his point without care or mercy.

"Ain't asking for the deal of the century here, but I ain't some dumbass vault dweller-"

"Hey!" Lucy interjected defensively.

"- who don't know how these here exchanges work. I'll give you fifteen for three. Final offer."

Unable to rise from his chair due to whatever ailments were afflicting him, Mr Daniels pointed at a rusted metal box which sat off to the side of his chair as he caught Lucy's eye and nodded to accept the ghouls spoken offer.

"Go look in there, Miss. You'll find what you and your ghoul friend need."

Nodding with a wide smile, Lucy diligently walked over and opened the container. Inside lay a handful of vials of the lurid yellow drug which she had quickly come to discover Cooper needed to delay the inevitable and prevent himself from turning feral. What made up the odd compound, she had no idea, but it was almost the same consistency as rad-away if it were developed in a completely off colour.

Cooper's golden rule of being side-tracked by bullshit was a beast of his own making as ensuring a constant supply of this stuff had proven to be their biggest time waste as they traversed the wastelands. Not only that, but a low supply often left Cooper in a hell of a mood as his already short temper existed on a knife edge to make him snappy and irritable.

Returning with the goods, Lucy handed them off to Cooper who accepted with a grunt. Something strange played on his leathered features and it gave Lucy pause as she glanced quickly between him and Mr Daniels but she shook it off as they concluded their deal.

Cooper spoke first, with Lucy following closely.

"Thank you, Mr. Daniels."

"Yeah, thank you! We really appreciat-"

Lucy's words cut off into a horrified gasp as the back of Mr Daniels head exploded in a shower of blood; viscera and brain quick to decorate the wooden boards behind his chair.

"No! Cooper!"

Unapologetic, Cooper had the grace to at least shrug out an explanation as he held her eye.

"Like putting down a sick dog, darlin'. Better to go out while the going's good and before the scavengers come to take you piece by piece."

Stalking over to the container which Lucy had taken the chem from, Cooper ignored her horrified spluttering as he tipped the entire box into one of his larger pockets - the clink of the vials a welcome distraction from the stare he could feel burning into the back of his skull.

"You killed him! And now you're," Lucy paused, so aghast that words failed her for a moment, "robbing him too? He didn't eve- we're better than this."

Fixing the edge of his hat so it would stay more comfortably atop his skull, Cooper refuted her point with a single tilt of his head.

"No, we ain't."

So, Lucy had fallen into an old, tried and tested punishment which she found worked wonders on Norm and others who had annoyed her down in the vault.

The silent treatment.

Since returning to their makeshift camp, she had not uttered a single word to her companion, making a point of huffing and looking away every time he caught her eye. Thus far, nothing had come of it but as dinner finished cooking on the fire, Cooper finally addressed her directly.

"As much as I'm enjoying the peace and quiet, sweetie, are you gonna sit there with that big pouting lip tripping you up all night or are you gonna pull your weight around here and plate up? Ass jerky is off the menu for little girls who won't do their chores."

In no mood for his nasty teasing, Lucy shot him a sour look as she remained stubbornly quiet.

"Don't eat then." Cooper shrugged. "See if I give a shit. I've got food, silence, and enough chem to blow your tits clean off. Life is good for a ghoul today."

Unable to let that slide and ignoring the heat of hearing him refer - crudely mind you - to her chest, Lucy dug her heels into the ground as she remained seated on an upturned barrel.

"What you did was wrong."

"Oh, she does speak." Feigning surprise, Cooper had the gall to place one hand over his chest as the other dropped a piece of meat into his mouth - his lips chewing at it noisily.

"What you did was wrong." Lucy repeated. "That old man wasn't a threat to us and you killed him."

"Bleeding heart, vaultie." Cooper barely refrained from an obvious eye-roll. "What would you rather do? Huh? Leave him for the next people to come and harvest the good parts that were left of him? I did him a kindness and you're too blind to see that."

Taking the insult in stride, Lucy was is no mood to back down on this as she met Cooper with an equal level of venom.

"You were a monster today."

"Oh, you're the monster, sweetie. Had anyone else found that old coot, they wouldn't have been half as nice. A quick shot to the head is a better death than most get out here. And I get some extra sauce outta his stash. Win/win, vaultie."

"Your chem isn't worth killing people for, Cooper." As indignant as ever, Lucy's arms came to rest on her knees as her gaze bored into his own - attempting to make him see her point though sheer willpower alone.

Chem was a sensitive subject for Cooper and his dependence on finding the drug had led him into acts which would make the average person, even in this shithole world, recoil in disgust. But without it, he would lose what little part of himself remained and, with that, his only chance to find his daughter and punish those responsible for fucking the world up as much as it was.

"We need those meds." Cooper growled, frustration at her utter refusal to see the necessity of his actions making his temper flair. "Unless you fancy your chances at taking me on when the last of my marbles goes and I become a real monster. See me as I am now, vaultie, and imagine how my turning would go. It ain't gonna be pretty."

"I'll do what you need me t-"

"Is that right? Will you put a bullet between my eyes without flinching? Carve me up like a fresh piece of meat with my own damn knife? Cut off my head like you did that other sorry scientist fucker?"

With nothing to say to that as a queasiness enters her features, Lucy fell back on her earlier argument.

"You didn't have to kill him."

Her comment on his need for chem having kicked the hornets nest of his attitude, Cooper slowly stood from his seated position as he towered over her - his words low and clipped, full of a warning that she was too stupid to ignore.

"If I turn, then no amount of batting those big eyes at me is going to stop me ripping you to shreds when I'm feral. I've already got quite the taste for you, sweetie. I'll seal the deal with a smile."

"Yeah, but you didn't have to KILL him!"

Lucy also stood to her feet as she held her hands on her hips and the air between them sizzled with tension as neither proved willing to concede.

"And when I'm done," Cooper continued with fire in his tone, "and your little dumbass is lying there torn and lifeless with most of your insides on the outside, then I'll send the pieces that are left over to your cowardly dear old daddy. See how he likes seeing another of the women in his life in bits."

As angry as he was, an immediate regret washed over Cooper as those final snarled words snapped free. In that same moment, Lucy froze and the indignant expression which curled her features slipped into something slack and almost lifeless.

The silence hung heavy for a moment.

Striking quicker than a cobra, Lucy's hand lashed out in the space between them and Cooper felt the hot sting of her slap as it rocked his head to the side and pulled a surprised grunt from his lips.

Instinct taking over, Cooper responded in kind as he used his much larger hand to shove her chest roughly, pushing her away with enough strength to knock her flat to the ground; her ass colliding with the dusty landscape in a solid, painful sounding thud.

"Motherfucker!"

Lucy howled the word as if it were a battle cry, scrambling to her feet with a graceful sweep of her body as she flew at him like a hellcat. Her lovely face twisted in anger as she attacked, the dark locks of her hair whirled around her shoulders as she pounded her fists against his chest.

Angry, sure, but even in her anger, Lucy Maclean was no fighter and the lack of impact that her blows were making did little to settle her mood - if anything they only served to whip her into a greater frenzy.

"You piece of shit! I hate you! Hate you! Hate that stupid hat, and coat, and your shitty rules and-"

"Then fuck off and find someone else who'll put up with your shit. I don't need your help to kill your daddy."

Halting her fists, Lucy's furious gaze - even more beautiful in its passion - blazed in Cooper's face and despite the sting of his own anger, he couldn't help but fight back a smirk as the adrenaline of their argument caused heat to lance through his groin.

"You would be dead without me." Huffing her hair out of her face, Lucy hurled the words like a fist, casting up her choice to save him for the first time since the event took place.

Matching her energy, Cooper couldn't help but retort with his own act of mercy.

"And I could have left you to be used and sold as a breeding bitch to some nasty fuckers who wouldn't have treated you half as sweetly as I have. Another fair exchange between us."

"I hate you!"

"Now, why the fuck should that matte-"

Her breath hot against his face, it took Cooper a moment to register the feeling of Lucy's lips on his own as she smashed her face against his. The taste of her flooded him in an instant, a sweetness which he hadn't sampled in decades as her hands clung to the edges of his coat desperately, her closed eyes the polar opposite to his own wide-blown gaze.

Stunned into silence, Cooper allowed her to explore his mouth as his body relaxed into her own - memories of his unexpected voyeurism and accompanying decision making him slack and pliant.

If she wants this, then she can have it.

Consequences be damned.

Lucy only pulled away when he bit at her lower lip, the sharp pain bringing her to her senses as she snatched her mouth away.

"Ow. That hurt."

Her eyes blown and lips looking as plump as ever, Cooper cannot even pretend to be considering his options as he takes in her wide features - so easily wearing the arousal and anger which powers her.

Oh, fuck this.

"Plenty more where that came from, sweetheart."

Cooper snatched her close, chasing her kiss with one of his own as he pressed chapped lips to her much softer ones in a quick, filthy kiss.

Lucy pulled away first this time with a muted moan as she brought her hand up to his face and stroked her fingers along the ridges of his cheek. "Do you want to have sex with me, Cooper?"

"Fuck, darlin', don't think there's a man alive who would say no to that."

"You did."

Hissing as her chest brushed his own, Cooper disregarded the accusation in her tone.

"Things change. You should know that better than anyone."

"Let me see it." Lucy breathed with a considerate hum, her hands lowering to graze his lower stomach where his filthy shirt tucked into his pants. "I've thought about it, you know, how it might look. How it might feel in my hand, or inside me."

Momentarily concerned this woman may actually kill him with her shit, Cooper held back a groan at that confession - her lustful advances catching him off guard as he gathered himself enough to match her boldness.

"I ain't disappointed you yet."

Fumbling with his fly to pull his cock free, Cooper was quick to tug along the full length to ensure that nothing would catch in his slacks as he fucked her. But his movements were cut short by Lucy's hand knocking his own free as she wrapped her soft fingers around his cock.

"Oh, it's so," Lucy glanced down between them with a flushed grin as she sought out the right word to use, "thick. Okay dokay. I can do that. But none of the others have been this thick."

Deciding then and there they he would fuck her very brains out if it were the last thing he did, Cooper's chest puffed out slightly as he took in the praise with an elevated sense of male pride.

"Touch it then, darling. Get a good feel for it before it's hollowing you out and making you scream."

Bold as brass as her chest pressed flush against him, Lucy did as told and rolled her fingers along his length, mapping out every ridge and mark which marred the livid flesh. Imagining how good it would feel inside her, she buried her moan into his chest - a childish glee making her grin wide as she stroked him.

Wanting to keep his own hands busy, Cooper slipped his fingers in the space between them as he trailed his hands down her collarbone and into her dingy tank-top. She was warm and so fucking soft beneath his fingers that he exhaled steadily, his hands cupping her breasts as they slipped with her bra.

Unable to wait much longer as she called to him like a siren, his hands tugged her tank top and bra down until he were capable of freeing her tits; each breast as perky as the other as they quickly peaked in the warm air, the hard nipples surrounded by a lovely patch of darkened skin that made his mouth water.

Her skin was smooth, only the slightest hints of grime and filth messing up the perfect canvas and Cooper pushed her backwards enough to be able to bend and drop his head to her chest, the movement forcing her to release his cock. A fact he didn't care too much about as he latched his lips to the swell of her left tit, his mouth licking across the grimy skin as his blunted teeth pressed just enough to make her shudder as she pushed herself harshly into him.

"No biting anything off." Lucy gasped, only the slightest tinge of worry leaking through the lustful pant.

"Not making any promises, darlin'." Cooper answered, his voice strained as he fought the urge to do just that.

Just off, to the side of her right nipple, sat a single dark freckle and he was drawn to it like a moth, sucking the skin around it with a harshness which he knew would leave a livid mark.

"Damn, Cooper." Lucy hissed and he growled into her skin as her hand looped around his neck, fingernails digging into the sensitive skin at the nape.

"Watch those nails, little kitten. Ain't easy growing back skin."

"Gross."

Remaining hunched, Cooper's shoulders shuffled his leather duster free as he dropped it to the floor to provide some padding against the harsh ground. Lucy followed his lead, allowing him to pull her down as her hand returned to, and then refused to drop from, his cock - fingers circling the base of his length playfully as they fell to the floor.

Feeling painfully overdressed, Lucy quickly rolled to her back to pull her pants off - the blue fabric slipping free to a messy heap as she quickly readjusted to her previous positioning. Splaying her knees on either side of his hips, she teased the tip of his cock with her clothed sex for a moment before settling down, her ass pressing against his lower stomach as she straddled him.

Lucy sighed; her focus dropping past her exposed breasts to the prone ghoul below her, Cooper's hungry eyes splitting their attention between her face and chest as he gazed up at her.

"You sure about this, Lucy Maclean." Cooper asked, his cowboy hat balancing precariously atop his head as he reclined it back. "Cause it's cruel to tease a man like this if you wanna back out."

"Mmm-hmm." She responded with a hum. "I've been thinking about it for a while, Mr. Ghoul."

"Oh, I know that, darlin'. I caught quite the interesting little show last week in that storage unit."

Gasping at the reveal, Lucy rolled her hips atop his groin, her ass brushing his cock as her eyes widened.

"You saw me?"

"Coat in hand, sweetheart."

"So you knew."

In place of a response, Cooper offered a wolfish grin which was in equal parts guilty and unapologetic. Moving with a fluid roll, Cooper reversed their positions - placing Lucy flat against his coat as he pressed his heavy body down atop her.

"If we play this game, we play by my rules."

Exhilarated by how easy he handled her, his strength making her head swim with possibility, Lucy hooked her fingers within the band of her panties as she raised her groin enough to slip them past her ass and drop them off to the side.

"Okay dokay."

Fully exposed, Lucy reclined against the softened leather and some part of her knew that Cooper wouldn't be stripping off in a similar fashion; a fact which made disappointment bloom in her chest. The few glances of his skin she had snuck as they travelled told her that his entire frame was as vividly corroded as his face and hands and she wanted to see it.

Wanted to feel it under her fingers and her lips as she trailed herself across his body, exploring every roughened inch with a wicked curiosity.

But she understood his hesitation and she pushed the thoughts aside with ease as she gazed up into his eyes, the whites stark against the shadows of his sunken skin and she shivered at the intensity that poured from them.

His hand immediately dropping to her inner thigh, Cooper teased the skin there as he trailed his fingers up, ghosting across her slit as his digits brushed through the soft, dark curls which sat prettily to frame her cunt.

Lucy widened her thighs, encouraging him to slip his hand lower and it was an invitation he accepted with enthusiam - two fingers pressing between her slit to feel the growing moisture there, the digits coming away wet with her arousal.

"Soaked already, sweetie." Cooper teased, enjoying the flush in her cheeks. "Is that how all you valtuies react to the touch of a real man?"

"Cooper," all business as she quickly grabbed his fingers and used them to masturbate herself, her body jerking as his roughened skin grazed her throbbing clit, Lucy tightened her grip of his neck and hissed her demand, "shut up."

Amused and painfully aroused by her sheer boldness, Cooper filed away this side of her for future consideration. He may tease her, hurt her, make her feel like shit for her ignorance of how the real world worked, but here like this, he would treat her as an equal to see where the game led.

Adjusting his positioning, the lower half of Lucy's leg was quick to snake around his body as he dragged the blunted head of his cock across her glistening slit, the softness of her drawing a languid groan from Cooper's mouth as he coated himself in her slick - foreplay the furthest thing from either of their minds.

Jerking his hips forward in one fluid movement, Cooper was immediately grateful for how desensitised his skin had grown due to its various abuses as the wet heat which enveloped his cock was almost enough to have him shooting off then and there.

"Fucking hell." He swore, teeth biting into his lower lip as he buried his cock so deeply that his balls pressed against her ass. It was a violent thrust, animalistic and determined and Lucy Maclean met him with her own ferociousness as her nails carved fresh, sharp crescents into the skin of his neck.

The sudden fullness was overwhelming after so long of having nothing but her own fingers and Lucy basked in the discomfort. It was pain and pleasure mixed into one, and it only grew more intense as Cooper quickly set a brutal pace; his cock hammering in and out as his groin bumped against her ass with every thrust.

Incomprehensible sounds escaped Lucy at the sudden assault, a desperate mixture of muted pleas, whines and groans which only served to encourage Cooper to exhaust himself as he chased the pleasure which he has denied himself since her first offer to fuck him.

The cool, controlled façade long since abandoned, Cooper gnashed his teeth as he dropped his mouth to her neck - biting up her creamy skin as he craved a simple taste, his tongue licking free the developing sweat which their desperate fuck created.

Sparks of pleasure alighting across her skin as the length of his cock brushed against the nerves deep within her cunt with little effort, Lucy worked herself hard as she clenched around his cock to pull him as deep as possible. She had always liked it on the rougher side, the sensation of discomfort she found herself forced to endure eating her as Cooper's punishing pace glanced off her cervix and made her breath come in short, chaotic pants.

"Don't hold back, sweetie. Let me hear it."

A low cry broke free of Lucy's lips as she took his advice and Cooper responded by burying his full length within her in one particularly savage thrust which made her cry rise in pitch as her wide eyes met his own, her arousal blazing as her pupils dilated and lashes fluttered

Cooper snapped his hips forward and every thrust drew a fresh whimper from Lucy's lips as her orgasm quickly approached the point of no return, his cock and overwhelming presence making her writhe in place. With a slight shift in angle, the band of arousal within her shattered and pleasure rocketed through Lucy's nerves as her fingers clawed desperately at the thin fabric of Cooper's shirt.

"Cooper. Cooper, oh my go- Cooper."

Her lips wrapped around his name like a prayer, alternating between a blessing and a curse and he swallowed it up with a feral grin as he felt her come around him. Her walls clenching and fluttering, the pull of her muscles as she wordlessly dragged his cock deeper was enough to have him growling like a feral beast as he neared his own release.

Breath shuddering and balls tightening as he sank himself as deeply as he could, Cooper buried his orgasm in her neck as his teeth locked around the sensitive juncture where Lucy's neck met her shoulder. Sucking a livid mark into the skin, he felt his release flood her, mixing with her own as he cupped her left tit with his hand and squeezed roughly.

Cooper stayed there for a few seconds, enjoying the tight heat of her cunt until it was almost painful against his overstimulated cock and he pulled free with an obscenely wet noise which furrowed his brow at just how filthy it sounded. He was quick to drop his body to the side of her, most of his frame laying off the leather duster as he allowed the lady to keep the sweet spot.

"Wow." Lucy breathed out, puffing her hair from her lips as she shuffled her panties back up to cover her ass - the sticky discomfort of her soaked cunt unable to be fixed until they stumbled across some spare water to wet one of the rags which Cooper carried. "That was," she paused to seek out the best wording, "amazing. Cooper- you were- well you were great."

Ego inflating at the easy praise, Cooper's sweat-slicked body fought him every step of the way as he tried to hide how out of breath he was.

"Went easy on you this time, vaultie." He crooned, his gaze flicking to his sewn finger as he spotted the droplets of her release which had coated his fingers as he pulled his cock free. Bringing the digit to his mouth, he took a small taste and hummed with deep satisfaction as the sweet tang of her flooded his mouth. Immediately deciding he would need a better sample the next time they fucked, Cooper allowed her to respond to his teasing as he tilted his head to meet her eye.

"Holding back on me, huh?" Freshly fucked, Lucy's expression was wild yet sated, dark hair falling across her eyes as she stretched her arms overhead before tucking her chest back into her bra. "I won't break from a little bit of exercise, Mr. Ghoul. I can handle it."

Taking the opportunity, Lucy curled her body into his side, the warmth of his skin seeping into her exposed arms as she siphoned some of his heat to stave off the sudden chill. His only movement coming from his hands as he tucked his cock back away in his slacks, the length still coated in her mess, Cooper couldn't shift the shit-eating grin which stretched his lips as he raised one arm to act as a pillow for his head.

"Oh I doubt there's much you can't handle, Lucy Maclean."

Smiling at the way his accented vowels rolled over her name, Lucy tucked herself more deeply into his side and allowed herself to relax - excited for what was to come now that she'd finally satisfied her curiosity about what kind of lover her ghoul companion would be.

A damn good one, as it turned out, asshole behaviours aside

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 6

Part 7

#this has lived rent free in my head for over a week so if it flops then im gonna self-immolate cause i need others to suffer with me #ghoulcy #vaultghoul #cooper x lucy #cooper howard #lucy maclean #fallout #fallout fanfic #fallout tv series #cooper howard x lucy maclean #ghoul x lucy #lucy x ghoul #lucy x cooper #fallout 2024 #the ghoul x lucy maclean #walton goggins #ella purnell

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kitkatscabinet · 11 months

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Whumptober - 09: Human shield/hostage

Simon Riley x gn! reader

You’d fucked up.

It was as simple as that and if you somehow get out of this alive you knew Simon was going to have your fucking head for worrying him. That and he’d make your life a living hell of PT and combat training.

You don’t even know how you’re managing to think about your potentially grim and annoying future when there’s a gun barrel pressed into the back of your neck, digging into the cervical column of your spine.

Your knees sting from the cool cement you’ve been kneeling on for what feels like hours. They’re bloody and scraped to shit and your feet have long gone numb, attempts to wiggle your toes thwarted by the tingling pins and needles.

Your wrists and hands are hardly faring any better, the thick rope having cut off circulation and rubbed the skin bloody and raw from your escape attempt. The one that had earned you the butt of a rifle to the gut so hard you’d almost thrown up.

Sticky blood still drips down your forehead from where you’d been struck, pouring into your eye and rendering you half-blind.

Whatever plans your captors have are derailed when Simon, no, the Ghost barrels into the room, an entity out for blood. He stops the second he assesses the situation, placing his hands up in a surrendering gesture when the muzzle of the captor's rifle digs more harshly into your spine.

To the untrained eye, Ghost looked as calm as possible, seemingly barely phased by the scene in front of him. To you who knew him better than any living person, however, you knew that was far from the case.

You’re glad Ghost is wearing his hood, he’s always had such an expressive face. You’d seen the way his eyes, the ones that always stared at you so softly, had widened in panic before he’d composed himself.

He’s trying to defuse the situation or stall long enough for a sniper to get a good shot, which is unlikely given the incredibly small windows.

It had been nothing short of a miracle that you and Ghost had even been deployed on the same mission (lack of available personnel), and you couldn’t be more thankful if you tried. Not because you thought he’d be able to save you, no matter how much you hoped, but because selfishly it gave you one last opportunity to drink him in.

Desperately you prayed that Simon wouldn’t be forced to watch your brains splatter against the floor, though you can’t help but be glad that the last thing you see will be his eyes. The eyes that keep flickering back to yours to reassure you, though you think it's more for his benefit as he too memorises your features desperately.

It’s also his way of silently apologising for putting on such a cold front. Training indicated he had to pretend not to know you very well, otherwise, the first instance of his true feelings shining through would result poorly for the both of you. It would give the enemy even more leverage over the situation.

You can’t run the risk of nodding along or giving any indication that you understand and trust him more than anything, you just have to let it shine through on your mostly impassive face. They wouldn’t get to witness any of your panic, you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Negotiations don’t seem to be getting anywhere when you finally tune back into the conversation. The situation is incredibly grim and just as you are about to accept your death an ear-shattering shot echoes through the room.

You’d never be able to truly remember the next few seconds if you tried, adrenaline kicking into overdrive when your body hits the floor covered in blood before your brain registers that you are very not dead despite the gunfire.

Everyone turns to the man holding the gun to your head in confusion. One, two, three, four seconds pass as it registers that he had not been the one to fire. Instead, it’s his body hitting the floor with a thud as red sprays from his skull.

Those four seconds are all Ghost needs before he raises his rifle and takes out the other three men with a yell. It doesn’t take another four before he’s sliding onto his knees beside you, taking your head into his hands and pulling you against his chest as he pleads for you not to be dead.

Your eyes open through the blood that’s drenched your upper half and Simon inhales shakily in relief when you finally murmur that it’s not yours. Your face is buried against his neck and his arms ensnare your shoulders, holding you crushingly tight against him as his shoulders shake slightly.

You feel, because you can’t see anything past his vest, his head turn and his nose press tightly to your hairline as his breathing slowly evens out.

“S’ok. I’m ok, you saved me” Your voice is hoarse with unshed tears and stress that finally burst forth as the dam wall you’d been keeping up crumbles. Simon mumbles something but it’s too soft for you to hear, you don’t ask him to repeat it because you understand the sentiment.

His comms flare to life but Simon ignores them in favour of clutching you tighter against him, it takes you gently nudging him to answer for him to relent his grip even a little as he has to pull away a little to answer. Though he’s diving back against you almost instantly, this time he pulls off his mask, letting the bare skin of his nose press against your pounding pulse point.

You don’t make any move to push him away, even as your arms and legs ache from the position because you understand. You don’t doubt you’d be just as clingy and desperate had the roles been reversed.

Chin resting on his shoulder you speak softly and slowly, just for him. It’s a bunch of random nonsense that you won’t remember later but it doesn’t matter. It’s just another way to reassure him and you that you’re still alive and breathing.

That you aren’t going anywhere. Not yet, and if the world lets you have your way, not ever.

#cod simon riley #x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #ghost

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cactusisconfused · 2 months

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✨Guess who has an ideaaaaaa✨

I saw this post about ghost having lost some of his teeth from over time and for some reason I thought of the exact opposite thing.

It all started out with Soap’s notice of Simon’s oddly sharp canines.

Soap overtime has gotten very few glimpses of ghosts face, especially when they’re still finding grounding with each other after meeting. The first time Soap sees ghost without his mask, Ghost doesn’t speak. The next time he takes it off and he does speak, but Soap is too caught up in awe to even think there’s something different about ghost.

He doesn’t notice them until their first kiss. The kiss itself was uncoordinated yet so passionate- all tongue and teeth- given their far too many close calls on this last mission.

It’s Soap letting out a small hiss as his tongue feels as though it had been pricked. Any thought soap had about whatever just pricked his tongue left the atmosphere as Ghost made a soft noise in the back of his throat. The sound had been so vulnerable yet so Simon. It had Soap practically melting for the man.

It wasn’t until the next time he had seen ghost maskless that Simon smiled after something Soap said.

At first he was blinded by the beauty of the man in front of him, how could he not? What with the sun from outside the window shining on Simon’s pale skin, his light freckles being illuminated by the warm hue.

But there, in that perfectly crooked smile, were the ever sharp canines. As pointed as a spear and as white as a cloud.

Now Soap isn’t stupid, quite contrary really. But after this observation, some other things about ghost seemed to be connected.

How Simon had these almost inhuman canines.

How Simon was always pale and dressed to the nines- all in dark, grim clothes- to never be touched by the golden sun above them unless it was indirectly- like through a window.

How Simon was always frigid to the touch.

How Simon rarely ever ate with the rest of the task force.

Even on missions, Simon would just disappear sometimes, eventually coming back with far more blood than he had before.

At first, Soap had thought Ghost had just run into some altercations- which he probably did. At least that was soaps previous thought before he stumbled upon ghost as they were clearing a building. The man was hovering over the enemies body, blood dripping from his mouth that becomes soon to be wiped away by the Brit’s sleeve. Simon had explained that he had lost his gun in the fight, and as a quick resort before the man could call for back up, he had bitten him.

Simon hadn’t seemed proud of the action. Johnny didn’t push, but he certainly filed that thought into the back of his head.

Now, Soap isn’t saying his boyfriend is a vampire per se, but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it- especially after that.

At first Soap tried something simple, just to test out this silly little thought.

On a recon mission, soap had picked up a small but sturdy stick and sharpened the end slightly with his pocket knife, making a stake. He simply pocketed the thing and went on his way.

When he got back to base he went to ghosts room to ‘show it’ to him.

“Hey L.T, got you a gift.” Ghost had looked up from his desk and looked at Soap, who then looked at the makeshift stake. Simon had just looked at it for a moment and nodded, putting his hand out to take the offering then giving soap a masked kiss on the cheek.

Soap paused for a moment at the lack of reaction towards the stake- at least the lack of a negative reaction. The man simply accepted it…though really Simon is probably used to the odd gifts by now- (given the growing collection of rocks on ghost’s shelves gifted to him by Soap.)

Soap had simply nodded and gave a “of course, Si.”

The next thing Soap had tried was garlic. He waited until they were both on leave and he made some simply spaghetti with garlic. Now he didn’t actually put the garlic in. If his “suspicions” were correct and Ghost was a vampire, he’s not about to poison his boyfriend.

Once again, Simon made no reaction to the garlic as Johnny was cutting it, despite the garlic letting out a potent smell. Simon had simply moved to wrap his arms around Johnny’s waist and rested his head on the Scot’s shoulder, his eyes closed. Perfectly golden eyelash’s fluttering.

By the time they finished eating Soap simply accepted that ghost wasn’t a vampire. Not that he actually thought Simon was- that would be just silly- but whatever experiment he was conducting came to be a failure. Not that he minded much.

Little did Soap know that Ghost was very thankful that Johnny didn’t put the garlic in, given that he is, in fact, a vampire.

Anyway this was just a fun idea that I had that became a lot longer than I expected. I might do something more with this, I might not. We’ll seeee.

Also here’s the post that inspired me ^^^^

#cod mw3 #ghoap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #cod mwii #simon riley #johnny mactavish #i love them #soap is very in love #so is ghost #he collects all the trinkets #they’re gay your honor

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blingblong55 · 8 months

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Tummy ache-141 & König

Based on a request: Listen. 141 (plus König if you want) with reader being know as someone who has the sweetest voice, friendlies tone, and is everyone's friend because of this but then when they finally hear them laugh. They let out the MOST DIABOLICAL, CRAZY, ABNORMAL, AND UNNATURAL LAUGH THEY HAVE EVER HEARD COMING FROM A HUMAN BEING!!!! (This is me, I was told I laugh like a witch, or a gremlin, or a undiagnosed mental person.) Thank you 😊 ---- GN!Reader, platonic!relationship, funny laugh, fluff?? ----

Being the smallest in the team, height-wise, the men who work with you always perceive you as something tiny and adorable. Your voice has always been so sweet and soft, so when Soap tells a joke in the late hours of the night, you laugh so hard that it genuinely scares them all.

The room is dim, your shadow cast on the wall as you rock back and forth with your "gremlin" laughter. Gaz is the first one to laugh at this, finds it quite funny how a cute little thing like you can laugh this loud and so…weird? He is going to be bringing this up in the future.

Ghost is the second one to react, he begins to say his horrible jokes. His deep laughter mixed with that stare he gave you dealt the deal that you would now be known as Grim, the soldier with the laughter and his newest goal is to make you laugh as hard and as much as possible. This is why now that Soap got that laugh out of you, Ghost keeps adding more jokes to the point you start to tear up and beg for him to stop because your tummy hurts.

Price joined afterwards, cigar held between his fingers as smoke fell from his cough of laughs. Tears get wiped the louder Ghost makes you laugh. Clouds of smoke fill the room, you enjoy this small moment since it will be the last one before going on an operation. When Price can't take the pain from laughing, he walks out of the room.

Soap and König join last and all they can do is bring a louder laughter to the room. The men only bring the volume of the room to rise, everyone inside adding more fuel to the fire and without knowing, soldiers from other sides of base begin to peek into the room, wanting more on the gun. Soap is the kind of man to push people when he laughs and naturally, the tall man König is became the target.

For nearly thirty minutes the jokes and laughs came along all until everyone lay on their beds, trying to catch their breath.

This is the rare moment soldiers like them and you get. It is beautiful, truly magical to have a sit-down, to listen, to smile and to feel that just for a moment all is fine. No blood on the dark military clothes, no worry about what is out there. A gun, bullet, a cry for a medic, all that is out of this room. Warmth, friends and a good rest, that is what stays in this room. This is a good tummy ache.

A/N: having a Writing/English class and my head is only filled with what I've done for the past week. Rhetorical this and that and now what you just read is my last piece of energy.

Tags:

@warenai @woogabooba @liyanahelena @keepitreal001 @johfaam0 @spicypicklesoh @viomast @vampsquerade @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @saoirse06 @ikohniik @strawberrychita @sae1kie @Llelannie @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @the_royal_bee @soapybutt17 @a-goose-with-a-knife

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

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Creep Reader surviving in an Invader Zim/Grim Adventures est town and the Yan entities that center around them. Once every few months a group of humans are moved overnight into a cozy new home in a friendly new town. With no way out of the fog that surrounds it, the humans are either forced to adapt to their new lives and rolls given to them - or face the consequences and creatures that lure in the shadows. Most succumb to the madness or live in the terror of the unknown - Creep Reader is trying to figure out where to put the new chair made out of human spines their neighbor gave them and having a tea party with their neighbor who thinks she's a real life barbie doll and has a closet full of funky smelling human sized dolls she refers to as past lovers

The horrors find a gore obsessed, desensitized human an absolute treasure and work in their favor. Creep Reader's roll is eventually swapped from underpaid worker to mayor and invited to executions daily like a celebrity getting an invite to fans birthday parties. It gets a little repetitive to have to welcome the new bus full of screaming and crying residents, but they're quite happy with their new life

Creep Reader: Hey so- welcome to the town. Please try not to yell or anything or- [immediately gets cut off by a sobbing resident who then picked up by a giant praying mantis in a suit and carried off into the night]

Creep Reader: ....As I was saying - please try not to raise your voices as my giant praying mantis assistant takes all volumes above what I'm at now as a threat toward me

[A group of slashers sit at a slumber party, watching the spilling blood of the last victim they slaughtered forms into the first lettor of your name]

Yan Slasher #1: Oooooo, someone has a crush on The Mayor~

Yan Slasher #2, blushing: Nuh uh

Yan Slasher #1: Uh huh

Yan Slasher #2, throwing their knife at a body crawling towards the door: Nuh uh

[During a meeting with the new residents the mailman comes crawling through the third story window carries two packages]

Mailman: you can't escape what's delivered to you....

[In the resident's box is a single bullet - one that wad removed from their heart eight years ago as a police chief. They run outside only to be gunned down immediately. Reader opens their to find a teddy bear and a cake saying "Happy Birthday." The mailman turns them to face the window where the same message is written in the recently deceased blood]

Creep Reader: Aw thats so sweet.

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere blurb #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #yandere insert #yandere teratophilia

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aliceisathome · 3 months

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My Stand-In and Ming's redemption arc is GO! Main priorities:

Make Joe the happiest he could ever be - for life

Make Tong the most miserable he could ever be - for life

Simple yes?

In the love nest Joe is asking all the pertinent questions and Ming is answering honestly. It suits him. As do the matching pjs . And look at our cat trying to be puppyish, while our puppy is trying out some cat standoffishness. So cute.

Scared, vulnerable (half naked) Ming is very sexy - Joe held out longer than I would have. And his reaction when Ming stopped him turning over? Oh man.

This was very slapstick - loved it.

Bonus meta moment with the title of the film Ming's funding for him.

You can see Joe melt when he realises that Ming gave up his privacy on the off chance he would be found by Joe again. Lovely little moment.

Tong, you smug, stupid bastard.

This isn't the old Ming who'd do anything for you - this is new, improved, boyfriend-protecting Ming who's grabbing this second chance with both hands (and other body parts) and not letting go.

The conversation back at Joe's place reminded me of this conversation from Utsukushii Kare

Tong is making a massive mistake getting Ming's mum involved (and interesting staging - he's virtually hiding behind her). She seems like another piece of work, possibly better suited to Tong than lovely Mai.

Ming's wearing a jacket Hilary Clinton would be proud of and he's not going to let this manipulative, narcissistic bastard or his mum get away with this so he spikes their guns by telling his dad himself. What a star.

Next week looks grim, even considering the usual Episode 11 of Doom standards but I have faith that Ming is absolutely stubborn enough to get his parents on board and Joe is absolutely smitten enough to help. Now if the BL gods would just grant us a miracle and send Yoryak from Wandee Goodday over to give Tong a proper beating followed by Charn to ensure that he gets zero in the divorce, that would be grand.

Both Up and Poom have acted their socks off in this series - they've done brilliantly. And Mek has managed to make himself completely loathsome. So good.

#thai bl #bl drama #asianlgbtqdramas #My Stand In #My Stand In ep 10 #MingJoe #JoeMing #Up Poompat #Poom Phuripan #When are we going to get some Mike and Jim action?#Mek Jirakit

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sipsteainanxiety · 2 years

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waaaa no bc 🥺🥺 it’d been two years since the apocalypse started and society went to shit. you’d been on your own, for the most part, forced to keep moving from place to place as you looked for someone—anyone—who was still alive. you’d lost a lot, you’d gained little, but you were still kicking and breathing. that had to count for something, right?

you thought you’d seen everything, thought you’d become an expert on how to avoid and kill clickers, stalkers, and bloaters alike. but what you hadn’t accounted for were, well, people. who could blame you, though? you’d been by yourself for years.

one moment you were tentatively picking your way to a strange, high-tech fence, the next you were tumbling into a hole feet first. you landed clumsily—your ankle made an odd cracking sound—and you had to bite back a shout as you crumpled to the ground. winded.

how were you supposed to know there were traps in the area? sure you probably could have been more perceptive, but you were caught off guard. and now you were stuck in a hole that was too deep to pull yourself out of with your injured ankle and too steep to climb. you resigned yourself to sitting on the ground with your pistol gripped tightly in your hand. your eyes never once left the opening of the hole.

surely whoever dug this hole—made this trap—would still be around, right? you swallowed thickly.

you were lucky that he was.

katsuki, when he found you hours later, was a surprise you hadn't been expecting. you heard his steps before you saw him peek into your little hole. you didn’t think he expected to see the barrel of a gun pointing up at him, but then again, neither did you. he was the first person you’d seen in ages—you lowered your gun first. he glared down at you with ruby eyes that seemingly seared right through your soul.

it took a lot of convincing on your part, assuring him that you weren't infected. he didn't believe you, of course he didn't, and he was more than willing to leave you in the hole to die if you were lying. but... he hadn't seen another person in so long... his resolve wavered. he brought over a ladder to get you out and before you could even step foot out of the hole, he scanned you. green. you were safe. still, he didn't let his guard down.

he took you to his home base—a heavily fortified area beyond that same high-tech fence you'd seen. there was no infected in sight. now that your adrenaline had faded away, you could feel the shooting pain in your ankle. you sheepishly asked him if he had a medkit as you awkwardly limped behind him. he... wasn't much for conversation.

katsuki gave you clothes, let you shower. he dropped off a large medkit in the bedroom he'd let you have so you could wrap up your ankle. he had running water, working lights. he had a garden and a little farm. and he was alone.

you could tell he'd had his fair share of loss as well. it lingered in the air, potent at times. but still, he'd made something peaceful in these exhausting, terrifying times. a little safe haven that he dedicated hours and hours to cultivating and protecting. you respected that.

your ankle worsened overnight, became swollen and painful to stand on. so he let you stay, albeit begrudgingly. sending you back out into the wilderness would be a death sentence and he knew that. but you had to pull your weight—as much as you could, anyways. you didn't mind. you had your skills you'd developed over the years.

days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months. he didn't bother to kick you out, even after your ankle had fully healed. he'd grown used to you, and you to him. you helped him with his chores. you had dinner with him every evening. you woke up with him in the morning to go on little jogs around the fence perimeter. you shared quiet laughs and grim acknowledgements. you had your highs, and you had your lows.

it was only inevitable, you think, that you'd both become so tightly intertwined together that it was difficult for you to be separated.

katsuki kissed you, one night, after the sun had set and you both stood out on his house's porch, staring out into the darkness. fireflies dotted the air. the wind's cool caress along your face was replaced by his warm palm. he kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered—like you were the only thing tethering him to the earth. he told you, in a hushed voice, that he had something to protect, now, with you by his side. he had never known fear until you squirmed your way into his heart.

things changed, that night, for the better. your life—once so tainted by fear and blood—had turned into something so much sweeter in a way you didn't think was possible. you had him and he had you.

and together you would both love each other. for a long, long time.

#no one talk to me i am still devastated after tlou ep3 #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou drabble #i woke up sad the other day cuz i was still thinking abt bill & frank PLSSSS #tw apocalypse #fun fact: eventually u and katsuki gain friends thru the radio #kiri asido kami sero #and u all live together in that lil neighborhood<3

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captain-mj · 3 months

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09Soapghost heellll yeah. Captain MacTavish going uno reverse and going aha now you can’t get rid of me. Prepare to be made to heel

Draft

You got the psychic messages I was adding to the post

It started with the interrogation. That was it. With Ghost breaking that person down to nothing with Soap's help. If Soap gave a suggestion, which he did only when he wasn't sure he could stomach doing it himself so rarely, Ghost would do it.

Right now, he was running a flame over one of his knives, no doubt about to do something awful with it while Soap sat in front of the guy, waiting for the fear to build enough for him to back down.

And when Ghost put the burning red knife next to his eye, swaying it slightly like he might just drop it on him, he broke. He blabbered on and on and on about this and that and whatever. Soap took the important things down.

"Can I see my wife?"

Soap was just about to answer when Ghost did. He never spoke during things like this. Not wanting people to hear his voice. But Price had told him to kill the guy afterward and that was enough for him to not care. "Yeah. You can see her." He cocked his gun and put it between his eyes.

"My wife isn't dead." The man looked angry.

"Course she is. Suicide to be exact. Apparently a couple of our boys got a little rough. Made some comments. I wonder, did she kill herself to prevent being defiled or because she was afraid of being used against you? Which one? Did she love your country more than you? Just like you did her."

The man started to curse and sob and bitch in Russian.

Ghost let him for a moment, enjoying this Soap realized, before moving the sunglasses to the top of his head to uncover his eyes. "Look me in the eyes. I want to see you die."

The gunshot was loud and it echoed. And Ghost put the gun back in place.

"His wife is safe and sound in a house not too far from here. Why did you lie?"

"So when he gets to whatever afterlife there is, he searches for her for years, not know she just isn't there yet. I like the think the grim reaper is in on the joke and plays along."

"You're a sick fucking bastard." Soap said and meant it.

Ghost looked at him. And those eyes... stone cold dead. Nothing fucking there. On anyone else, they'd be gorgeous. Beautiful browns like several of the sweet little things Soap picked up at bars. But there was not a hint of emotion in those things at all. "You know I am."

That's when Soap realized that Ghost was a little feral. Demented even. Something was Fucking wrong with him.

It didn’t scare him as much as it should. His head gets a little fuzzy at the thought actually.

There were other moments. Times where Ghost would be a little more fucked up around him. Letting Soap catch him licking one of his knives or purposely dragging out someone's death for his own pleasure.

Somehow it was made worse by the moments of Ghost's humanity. HIs humming. His inane way of making tea and how he disliked coffee and his stupid jokes. It was at such odds with the way he looked at him, dangerous and mutant.

Until Soap found himself cornered by Ghost who was trying to tower over him despite their size difference being laughably small. Only an inch or so. And his shoulders weren't that bad, but they weren't much against his own. Riley just wasn't doing a good job of being intimidating, especially considering Soap had seen him do far better with enemies.

"MacTavish." He growled at him.

Soap looked at him. "Simon. Heel, boy."

Ghost stared at him blankly, only those dead black eyes looking at him.

"You're not getting rid of me, Simon. So go ahead and get used to it."

He scoffed like Johnny was the dumbest motherfucker ever. "You don't own me. Can't tell me what to do."

"Heel, Simon." Soap whispered at him, patting his side. "You're not going to get my attention like this."

Riley growled at him again.

"That's your problem. Can barely touch ya. You hide under that mask like a coward. So you skulk around and hope I'll kick you away."

Riley made a ragged noise and almost barked at him. "Fuck you."

"I'll kick you when I want." Soap hissed and shoved him to the side, noticing how he moved so easily.

That exchange was why he didn't feel as much as surprise as one would expect to find Ghost unmasked in his room late at night, knife in hand.

Soap looked at Riley, watching his breathing as ragged as it was. Looking at how he looked defenseless despite holding a knife. He flipped it in his fingers and held out the handle.

“Captain, I’d let you do anything to me.” His tone was steady, even maybe a tad breathless. There was no hesitation or pain in the admittance.

Soap frowned at him but his interest was undeniable piqued. “Anything I wanted?” He took the knife and dragged it along his jugular. Just letting him feel it.

It was the first break in the facade. A small painful sound. “Yes. Anything. I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“For giving you this burden.” Ghost choked out. “Anything you want.”

Soap shouldn’t push. He knew Ghost didn’t say things like this lightly. But he did anyway. “Even sex? I know how you are.”

Ghost shivered but it wasn’t from fear. His pupils were blown and he reacted like he had not considered this option. “I haven't had sex in years. But if it would please you. I’d let you fuck me however you want. Even if it’s the same way they did. Even if it's worse. As long as it's you."

“You’d let me kill you.” Soap waited for something. A survival instinct of some kind. But Ghost licked his pretty lips.

“Johnny, if you asked, I’d beg you to. If that’s what you wanted.”

“Beg.”

Ghost gently grabbed the wrist that was controlling the knife as it went further down but still didn’t cut. He just needed the stability. “Please. Whatever you want. You want me dead? Do it. I’ll write up a note saying i asked for it. You want me kill someone for you and I will. Bleed me dry, Johnny. I’ll enjoy it.”

Soap looked at where he was clearly hard in his pants. “Should I get you off first?”

“If you think I deserve it.” Ghost exposed his throat for him, swallowing.

The knife hit the floor and Soap kissed him properly. Really kissed him. He dragged him up and out of the chair. Ghost sobbed against his mouth but he ignored it, instead laying him out over his desk.

Soap wasn’t cruel. He could be stern and mean but cruelness was never his thing. And in this moment, he wished nothing more to be cruel. To be able to rend Ghost down in a way that he clearly needed.

Instead, he undid his belt. "Simon."

"Yes, sir?" Ghost looked at him, biting his lip delicately.

"I am going to fuck you. Gonna let you sit there and just feel it. Be real good to you. And when I'm done, you're going to warm my cock under my desk."

Ghost softened, eyelashes fluttering. If not for the scars, he'd be model material. But Soap preferred him with the scars. "Thank you."

He kept lotion at his desk, something that Gaz usually teased him over, but it was perfect for right now. Using a generous amount to make it easier for him. One finger in and he already felt tighter than anything else Soap had fucked in... ever. "You weren't kidding. Practically a virgin huh?"

Ghost tensed up and Soap could feel it around his finger. "Hey, it's okay. I like it. Feels like I'm getting to break you in."

A sweet moan. "Yes. You want me to tell you how big you feel? I know you're probably packing. I'll even exaggerate. Tell you how you're breaking me."

"Only if that's what it really feels like." Soap assured, realizing just how much of a freak Ghost was. And subsequently how much of a freak he was himself, because this was all getting him going. Still, he worked him open until he could easily take three fingers and the lotion was starting to overflow.

Soap knew what he had. He had been turned down by a partner or two because of the size. And the way Ghost arched to keep taking it. Thighs trembling. It gave him a sense of satisfaction.

"I don't need to make you crave me. You already do."

"Yes, sir." He sounded strained but he managed the words.

"How do you feel?"

Ghost put his forehead against the soft wood. "Like you're breaking me." He shook and sobbed, but Soap knew if he pulled that pretty head up and made him look at him, there wouldn't actually be any tears.

A slow gentle push and pull. Soap didn't mind, the tightness and the pressure doing everything he needed. Ghost never asked for more. Though if it was because he was pleased, it was too much or he'd only take what he was being given was a mystery.

He abused his prostate. Mentally tallied how many times he hit it dead on as Ghost's body betrayed him. Causing his hips to cant up for more or his body to thrash until he fell against the desk like his strings had been cut.

And then Soap felt the tell tale tightening around his cock. Rhythmic and still desperate. "You came?"

Ghost nodded against the desk but didn't show his face. The back of his neck was a bright red.

"So the dead can blush."

Soap sped up a little, focusing on his own pleasure, and Ghost would clench every time he went all the way in, and then he came too. Deep inside so Ghost would struggle to clean it out.

Ghost got up and got on his knees. Soap gave him his shirt back so he wouldn't be half dressed.

"My life is yours." Simon Riley mumbled to him and the look he gave him was the same dead eyed stare as always.

Soap smiled at him anyway. "Thank you. It's a gift I'll appreciate."

For a brief moment, there seemed to be something like contentment in Ghost's eyes before closing his eyes and starting his job of pleasing his Captain.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost #ghoap

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mactavishenjoyer · 5 months

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Okay I need a Ghostroach au fanfic where after 09'Ghost gets shot he wakes up as 22' Ghost. (Still not a writer so sorry if it's bad)

He didn't have the pleasure of being thrown into another body while it was asleep like in the movies. He awoke into this world in the middle of a battle. Does it truly even count as another body if it's still him? That's unimportant he just has to finish this fight. It's unimportant what it's for. He just has to survive it. "L.T. what the fuck are you doing?" A familiar voice said, pulling Ghost behind a wall for cover. This man sure looked like the captain just shorter and without an eye scar. Ghost came a little bit more aware of his surroundings...well he actually became aware that Roach wasn't with them "Where's Roach?" Ghost said hoping that he imagined him getting shot. Please let that have been all in his head. "Who?" Soap responded with a look of confusion.

It had been weeks since Ghost had woken up in the world. Weeks of searching for Roach. He never joined 141 which means he has to be still out there or he died before he even got the chance. Ghost tried shaking the thoughts out his head. Roach had to still be alive, he was Roach after all. He sat across Price, his heart racing. "I couldn't find a Sergeant Gary "Roach" Sanderson." As those words left prices's mouth Ghost felt his heart sink, maybe Roach never existed here. Would that be better? He would have never had to go through all the pain he did before but Ghost deep in his heart was selfish, he wanted to hold Roach. "But I did find a Gary Sanderson" price slid over the files in his hand "According to our records he was dishonorably discharged from the military. So are you going to tell me what this is about?"

"Unimportant to any mission, sir."

"that wasn't what I asked."

"He's someone important to Simon Riley. I need to make sure he's safe."

Everything felt like a blur after that. All Ghost could focus on was the fact Gary was alive. Price gave Ghost his address and within the same week Ghost was standing outside his door. His heart was racing as he waited for someone to answer the door. After seconds that felt like minutes someone did. Gary had all the same scars....every single one his had. "Oh, I wasn't expecting a visit from the grim reaper! May I help you?" Gary's laugh even sounded the same. "Gary I-" ghost thoughts were cut off by the sight of a little girl hugging Gary's leg, She had Gary's eyes,"You have a daughter?". Gary turned to his little girl, telling her to go play upstairs. She ran off and Gary turned back to Ghost

"You are standing like a military douche. What the fuck do you want?"

"to talk."

"oh, really? Someone that comes to talk comes with a gun? You know you assholes won't fucking leave me alone. I haven't said shit about what happened so go tell general s-" Gary's rant was cut off by Ghost kissing him. Ghost slammed the door shut as his mask fell to the floor. "Simon?" Gary said, stomach turning as if seeing a ghost"I thought you where fucking dead.".

They sat in Gary's living room, drinking tea. "Why didn't you fucking tell me you where alive?" Gary looked as if he was fighting back tears "I got told in a fucking hallway at 20 that the love of my fucking life was murdered with his family.". "I'm sorry " was all ghost could muster to say, knowing that the truth was unbelievable. But wasn't that what Gary was upset at? That Ghost never told the truth? "It's been 10 fucking years, Simon. A sorry isn't going to fucking cut it.". Ghost felt as if he was choking "who did you have a kid with?" Ghost said trying to ignore that he can't truly apologize for what he did to this Gary because it wasn't him that did it. "...just like you... never liked the attention being on you, huh?" Gary's voice was softer now "After I thought you died, I threw myself at anyone who would have me to try to distract myself. I thought it was easier....until I got a Superior's wife pregnant. I didn't know she was married. I got dishonorably discharged. Beaten almost to death and then paid to keep quiet about it. Riley thinks her mom is dead. You know .... since lying about people being dead always makes things easier." Ghost would roll his eyes at that last sentence if it wasn't for the realization that Gary named his daughter Riley. "Her name's Riley?" Ghost felt emotions he didn't think he was capable of feeling anymore.

"Yes, named after my dead boyfriend who's sitting in my living room....why are you here?"

"because I love you."

Or something like that. This is long enough and I'm not a writer so idk how to end it. Especially since the angst In me wants to trick y'all into thinking everything is going to be happy just to kill roach.

Part 2 of the idea

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gibsongirled · 8 days

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the two strangers.

description: schlatt's used to smuggling weird stuff to people, but never a girl. you don't make it that easily for him to smuggle out either.

warnings: mentions of guns

The water stains on the walls of Schlatt’s rundown apartment looked like they could be a part of the Rorschach test.

Sometimes he’ll sit in the living room on his off days and just stare at the wall, trying to make out what shape or pattern the stains had for him that day. The walls would offer splotchy dots of insects, two people dancing off rhythm, or his mother’s face- the last one makes him squeeze his eyes shut until he sees stars behind his eyelids. Curse those damn water stains.

Schlatt’s work wasn’t all that much. He got drafted into the fun job of burning the dead, infected bodies five months into the apocalypse when the military found him wandering on the side of the road with a bat in his hand and the clothes that he looted from some shop, and took him to a quarantined zone with the other members of civilization- and Ted, he was surprised and glad when he saw him. And when he wasn’t burning bodies, he was running supplies for all sorts of people for extra ration cards. First aid kit in this economy? Yeah, that’d be five ration cards. Ted ran his own operation too, it wasn’t just him swiping shit under the government’s noses, and he wasn’t the only one in the business. Sometimes Schlatt hated how Ted managed to get in situations that were not easy to get out of.

Ted and his group of acapella boy scouts (okay, maybe that wording was a bit harsh) had found you near an abandoned mall at the edge of the quarantined zone with your hands scraped and caked with dirt and grim. You were scuttling around in the dark like some rat and jumped at the sudden flash of light that was pointed at you, raising your arms in a defensive stance as if you were expecting someone to attack you. That was probably five weeks ago and you’re not that sure because you’re basing the time on the worn out calendar that hung on the wall in your room- a firefighter calendar, seriously?

The weekly questionnaire had become embedded in your brain to the point that you were sure you could recite all the questions in your sleep. What’s your name? Would they mind if you gave them a fake name? You weren’t even in the database - the lab you worked at made sure before they ushered you and everyone out - and you doubt they’ll even know your actual name, but you were a good sport and gave them your name anyway. How old are you? Simple, your twenty-fifth birthday is next week… or next month. Seriously, you needed to find an actual calendar that wasn’t stuck in 2021. Some math question you knew off the top of your head. Stand on your left foot, stand on your right foot. Hold both arms out. Jesus Christ, you haven’t done stuff like this since high school gym class, but you complied and they left you alone until you have to do that all over again next week. Be a scientist, they said. You’ll get good money, they said. No wonder those people are dead now.

“Jesus Christ- you’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me, Ted!” Schlatt erratically waves a hand in your direction, making a face that looks like a scowl when he meets your eyes. You lean on the doorframe, watching the conversation between the two men unfold in the hallway. The sun peeks through the cracked windows, specks of dust dancing along with the light. Ted sheepishly glances at you before returning to his friend, trying to explain the situation with exaggerated hand movements. Eugh, theatre kids.

“She’s worth a lot-” he gets cut off by another scowl from Schlatt, who gives you a stink eye. You mirror his expression, scrunching up your nose as you cross your arms. “And I’m giving you half the share, Schlatt. You just need to take her to the hospital - you know the one - in Salt Lake City.”

You knew the hospital too. It was connected to the lab you worked in Little Rock before the outbreak, and it was also the first hospital in the system to lose contact with your lab a few days before the outbreak. You and the others didn’t think much of it- systems go offline sometimes, plus with the shitty old equipment, it was either you or them who were bound to lose contact at some point. But you waited for it to come back online with no luck, thus cutting connection with another lab that was trying to help you cure the flu. You couldn’t even call it the “flu” now.

“Why can’t Charlie take her?” Schlatt asks, rolling his shoulders back. “I thought he did most of the smuggling.”

“He’s busy… with other stuff,” Ted replies back, “look, you’d be doing me a huge favor here.”

Schlatt grunts, knowing how many favors Ted owed him over the years. He thinks the deal over. Getting half of the share wasn’t that bad- smuggling some random girl out wasn’t the greatest idea that Ted had, but if it pays then sure, he was doing it for the money anyway. “Ugh, fine.”

The small room that you had in Ted’s apartment looked better than Schlatt’s apartment.

The stripped, oddly colored wallpaper’s peeling down, exposing the grimy, white paint underneath. Your eyes dart around the splotchy dots, trying to connect and make odd shapes. You sit on the couch, your bag of supplies that Ted gave you beside you and hands on your knees as you intently stare at Schlatt, who sits on the armchair opposite from you. He gives you a pointed look, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” comes your quick reply. Schlatt leaves it at that, not wanting to engage further in the already short conversation with you. You tap your fingers on your knees, seemingly bored at sitting still in a room with a man who didn’t look too thrilled to talk to you.

“We’re waiting for night, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, cool.”

Night came faster than you expected. Of course, the added bonus was that you slept upright on the couch to speed up the time faster. Though now you had to deal with a kink in your neck. The edge of the quarantined zone is surrounded by guards on the night shift. Whether it was walking on the grounds or on top of the lookout, you couldn’t really get past them unless you were one of them, or invisible. Schlatt shushes you, index finger against his lips and you nodded, giving him a slight thumbs up at which Schlatt looks at you with a confused look on his face before going back to scanning the layout of how you two were supposed to go out undetected.

Schlatt spots an exit that was left unguarded and he beckons you with his hand to follow behind him. The two of you crouch behind the sandbags nearing the exit until Schlatt gets spotted, a flashlight points at him. The source of light then points at you, you look up to see the perplexed look on the guard’s face. So much for wanting a quiet exit.

“Hey, don’t move! Don’t you fuckin’ move!” The guard starts, darting the flashlight between the two of you. You freeze like a deer in headlights, staying in your crouched position, looking at the guard who probably isn’t even paid much to deal with shit like this.

“Hey, Jack-” Schlatt starts, slowly standing up and gesturing with his hand for you to do the same. You straighten back up like those inflatable balloon men at car dealerships, hands at your side as the heel of your boot digs into the coarse dirt.

The guard cuts him off, “It’s James.”

You make a face at the name. Damn J names. “Oh yeah right,” Schlatt forces a smile on his face. “Look, man, you know me. I ran shit for you” Schlatt raises his hands up in surrender and you do the same. “We’re friends, right? Just let us through.” The guard - unamused with his words - raises his gun, pointing it towards you and then at Schlatt. Shit.

In a quick flash before you could even process what had happened, you feel Schlatt grab your hand, pulling you hard after him as a shot goes off in the air and the guard limps on the ground, clutching his leg. You almost trip on your legs, unable to follow the fast pace that Schlatt had set out, dragging you behind like a rag doll.

“Come on, Doc! Catch up!” Schlatt barks his words at you, his grip on your hand tightening as you try to match up to his pace.

Eventually, the two of you stand outside the quarantined zone. You can hear the alarms ringing out in the distance behind you, your heart thumping in your chest as you pant. In the dark, Schlatt lets go of your hand, opting to adjust the strap on his backpack. You look at him, squinting in the darkness, trying to make out the features on his face.

“So, where to next?”

#— writing #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #schlatt x you

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mauesartetc · 1 year

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Thoughts on Helluva Boss 205 ("Unhappy Campers")

Wow, this... This one may actually be worse than Murder Family. That's impressive.

Is anyone else noticing a pattern of Helluva Boss episodes going absolutely nowhere? Each one ends without affecting the larger plot in any meaningful way. Season 1's structure was fairly episodic as well, but at least back then there was some sense of progression.

I usually include separate lists of pros and cons in these critiques, but in this case, I have so few compliments to give this thing it's not worth it. I tried my best to find more to like about this episode, but it gave me bupkis to work with. So I'll just present all my notes in chronological order.

Let's get this over with.

-Looks like the rehab facility where Barb used to live is located in Sloth (on account of the floating islands and all the pink in the environment), just like the hospital in this season's previous episode. We've never seen care centers in any other ring, so... Does Hell society's opinion of sick people dictate that they're just lazy? Some clarification on that might be nice.

-"She's got a job now. A life. Don't fuck it up by findin' her." Holy shit, the nurse is the most mature, sympathetic character in this entire episode. Tasing Blitzo in the butthole earns her bonus points in my book. Nurse Pussyface, you are way too good for this show.

-Why is Blitzo even trying to visit his sister if he's been kicked out of the facility several times and knows she hates him? What's the impetus? "Look, I know you hate my guts, but Dad's dead, and he named you in the will." Or maybe he had an experience that reminded him of her and figured he'd drop by to see how she was? Y'know, something.

-By the way, Helluva's animation is usually a highlight, but here there's not much to say about it. It wasn't especially memorable or ambitious; just kinda... passable. Even the climactic fight scene (which I'll get to later) didn't have much to write home about.

-How the hell didn't the client notice the holes in his boat before he rowed it out into deep water? Because I'm pretty sure it would leak when it was still in the shallow end of the lake, unless this is a unique real-life boating phenomenon I'm not aware of. Also, you'd think this guy was a bit too gung-ho to get out on the lake for someone who can't swim. Did someone have a gun to your head, dude?

Fun fact: Did y'all know I was on staff at a summer camp once? We had a pond, canoes, and a boathouse just like the camp in this episode. One thing we had that this camp apparently doesn't, however, is this important rule: No one gets in a canoe without a life jacket. EVER. But, well... We see later that the adults at this camp don't care much about safety, so I guess that's fair enough. (Though I'm curious how they manage to stay open, or what the client's loved ones have to say about his mysterious disappearance.)

-What did the client do to get sent to Hell after he died? Mrs. Mayberry murdered someone, so that's why she's here, but this kid seems pretty chill-? (And don't even try to explain this on Twitter, writers. If it's not in the story itself, it ain't canon.) I also can't help but notice that his design reflects the way he died, but every other sinner's appearance is just random. Consistency? Who needs it!

-Some unintentional hilarity for ya: Here's Millie's face after the client recounted his death.

And she holds this pose for the remainder of the scene. Was there NO direction on how to animate Millie here?! This is a grim situation and she's smiling?! I get that she's a demon, but damn that is cold. It's never been clearer that half her role in this story is just smiling and looking cute, to the point the animators don't know what else to do with her.

-Richard Horvitz's valley girl voice was kinda funny. I dug it. Not sure why Moxxie and Millie had to dress in drag for anything other than cheap laughs, though.

-I know Millie's hurtin' for more development, but this story's conflict would have made SO much more sense from a character standpoint if Moxxie were getting all the praise from the campers. Think about it: He's the one Blitzo always shits on and doesn't believe in. He's the one whose father doesn't love him. He's the one who never gets positive attention from anyone except his wife. Suddenly the conflict is much more compelling: Now that he has approval from these humans, maybe he doesn't need it from Blitzo anymore (not sure why he needed his approval in the first place, but whatever). Maybe he'd realize what he's been missing, and how shitty Blitzo's treatment has been in comparison. Could this be the breaking point that finally gets him to muster some self-respect and quit IMP? We'll never know, because the episode has miscalculated where the most interesting dilemma actually lies.

As far as we can tell, Millie's had zero reason to doubt herself, and we never see her being mistreated like Moxxie has.

Take these lines of dialogue: "And for once I feel like... Like I'm important! Like I'm somebody to be proud of!"

Wouldn't they fit so much better if they came out of Moxxie's mouth?

-I kinda liked how the lyrics of Millie's song were humble while Moxxie's lyrics were egotistical, showing that being down to earth will win you friends while being self-centered will turn people off. But is that really the kind of message we need in an adult show? It's a useful lesson for children, but after you hit the age of this series' target demographic, most people will have the social skills to know better than to pull what Moxxie did at the campfire.

-Speaking of Moxxie being super immature, why does he weep when a bunch of preteens ignores him? They're...They're kids, Mox. They aren't your peers. Literally who cares. This behavior makes no sense outside of (once again) cheap humor. I could understand being bummed out that you're not good with kids if you wanted to have your own someday, but even that doesn't warrant actual tears. And this makes him look like a massive hypocrite later on when he asks Millie why it matters what "these yokels" feel about her. I mean... You seemed to care a lot about how they saw you, Moxxie...

-Moxxie's excuse for why it's so hard for him to get information on the case is that everyone's too busy "swooning over" Millie. Here's a thought: Why doesn't Millie get the info? She's the one everyone likes, so it should be a snap, right? Well, once again, the characters get railroaded because the writers can't entertain any other plot ideas. And of course Moxxie ends up getting blamed for everything as if he's the only one who fucked up here.

-Why the hell would a summer camp show so much favoritism toward a single camper that they set up a friggin' concert for this camper and this camper only? Yeah yeah, "viral sensation" and everything, but 1) The news crew can wait another day or so for camp to end in order to conduct an interview (y'know, something that wouldn't require a huge-ass stage and pyrotechnics that'd cost the camp boatloads of money), and 2) The camp staff thinks Millie is a child. How fucking irresponsible can you get to lavish this much attention on a kid? Think it'll go to her head or something? Psssh nah. Also, you're telling me none of the other campers are the tiniest bit jealous? How do you think they feel, seeing this one kid get treated like a god while they're left in the dust?

Okay, plot-wise, the writers decided they wanted Millie to sing a song so she's occupied during the final showdown with the killer. Easy solution: Camp talent show. That way, the adults treat all the campers equally, and Millie gets her (more believable) moment in the spotlight.

-Oh hey, we finally see Asmodean crystals in action. And of course the first one we see is a butt plug.

SuCh a MAturE shOw, GUys! (Sorry, I'm still laughing my head off at that.)

So, a bit of backstory for those who aren't familiar: We first learned of Asmodean crystals in the Season 2 premiere, when Stolas opened the grimoire to reveal Norse runes on its pages. Someone on the internet was kind enough to translate:

Now here's the deal: Blitzo tells the lust demon to open the portal with his crystal (even threatening him at gunpoint), leading me to believe only non-imps could use Asmodean crystals and that's why he needed the grimoire to get to the human world.

But guess what happens later:

Blitzo's sister Barb, another imp, uses a crystal on her bracelet to open a portal back to Hell. So what exactly was the point of stealing the grimoire from Stolas??

BLITZO. YOU. DENSE. MOTHERFUCKER.

Okay, maybe I'll be generous and acknowledge that there might be another explanation, like Blitzo getting banned from using Asmodean crystals because he's misused them in the past. (Maybe there's a spell that causes the crystals to burn him every time he tries to hold one. Something of that nature.) But at this point I don't trust these writers to fill in their plot holes. Or plot portals, as the case may be.

-The portals themselves are kinda pretty, though. I can appreciate that they look different from the portals created by the grimoire.

-Moxxie calls Blitzo "sir" in this episode despite Blitzo telling him to use his first name in Truth Seekers. Moxxie then uses it in "Ozzie's" (if I remember correctly), but now he's back to "sir" for unexplained reasons-? Coupled with how their relationship has reverted back to square one with Blitzo learning nothing (as well as no one bringing up the agents or what they can do to stop them leaking the proof that demons exist), do the writers just want us to forget that episode or what?

-Blitzo chastises Moxxie for dragging the case out for a week, but it took him a week to track down Barb. This hypocrisy is never addressed.

-At the boathouse, Blitzo tells Moxxie he's looking for his sister, then kicks down the door, revealing Barb inside. Moxxie asks, "Do you know her?" "Do I know her? That's my sister, fuckface!" That's... oddly repetitive, writers. I get that Moxxie wouldn't immediately make the connection since Barb's disguised as a human, but there's a more graceful way to handle that in the dialogue. Something like, "Is this her?" "Oh, now you're on the ball!"

-In an earlier post I expressed concern that these writers wouldn't handle Barb's addiction well, and I'm somewhat relieved they didn't go into it. But I also predicted she'd amount to a genderbent Blitzo instead of having her own personality, and... well...

Overindulges in addictive substances? Check. Runs a business that requires travel to the human world? Check. Pottymouth? Check. Uses sexuality as leverage? Check.

It would've been nice to at least get a hint about what Blitzo did to make her hate him so much (and perhaps confronting that would make him rethink how he treats Moxxie-?), but I guess we'll have to find out when she comes back in seven episodes or so. Yaaaaay.

-Barb says she picked this particular human as her supplier because teenagers are easy to manipulate, but she really had no way to accomplish that other than flashing her panties at him? Assuming Barb and Blitzo are the same age, she's in her 30s, and... it's just a tad creepy and uncalled for, even if this kid's legal. That's a pretty big age (and power) gap regardless. This is one of those times when it looks a lot more predatory when you switch the genders, but, importantly, women can be predators too. Bad optics, y'all.

-The climactic fight scenes in prior episodes were snappy and exciting, but this one's pacing felt really sluggish. I get that the song in the background had a slower tempo than we're used to in these action scenes, but would it have been so hard to double-time the animation? Also, previous fight scenes were notable for their creative choreography, but Barb wrapped her tail around Moxxie twice in a row. Having trouble coming up with new fight moves, guys? Like damn, she's an acrobat. She could do so much more.

-In another edition of "characters being idiots because plot", Moxxie and Millie make out in front of everyone who thinks they're related. They couldn't have run off to somewhere more private?? Apparently no; this needed to happen so Millie's internet fame would be dashed... or, here's another option: Show how the internet popularity cycle is so damn short that everyone's already moved on to the next sensation. You could have made that funny if you actually put in some effort. Like... The faux-incest was just so unnecessary.

-Much like Murder Family, another unfunny ending where Moxxie's dreams are crushed. Blitzo gets his hopes up only to call him a "fuckin' disgrace". But remember, guys: He'S HArd oN hiM BEcauSE hE CAreS! (Fuck it, I think I'll just edit a supercut of every time Blitzo has berated Moxxie, pre- and post-Truth Seekers.)

Oh and look, Millie's glaring at Blitzo, which is totally the same as opening her mouth to tell him off like he deserves, right?

She'll take on a whole gang of mobsters out of love for Moxxie, but standing up to Blitzo? Whoa, that's a step too far. Y'know, because he's the writers' favorite and he shouldn't have to experience any complications from his behavior. Same old story as it's been for a season and a half.

This ending would've been a million times better if it left off on a cliffhanger. Maybe this could have been Moxxie's final breaking point. After Blitzo calls him a disgrace, Moxxie could take a deep breath and...

MOXXIE: (flatly) I quit.

Then he walks out of the room. Everyone looks after him, stunned. When he closes the door, the screen cuts to black and the credits roll.

Oh shit, what's going to happen next? How will Blitzo deal with this? How will it affect Moxxie and Millie's home life? What kind of new job will Moxxie find to keep food on the table? Will he ever come back to IMP, or will Blitzo find a replacement? I know these writers aren't too interested in serialization or any sense of continuity outside of the stupid romance subplot (or hell, inside it), but good god, it would give viewers some exciting possibilities to look forward to.

This episode had so much potential and followed through on none of it. "Unhappy Campers" turned out to be a more fitting title than expected, as that's exactly what I was while watching this.

(Also this show needs a continuity coordinator like yesterday.)

#helluva boss #helluva critical #critique #criticism #review #writing #long post

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cripcross · 11 months

Text

LATE PAYMENT.

🔞 this post contains mature themes. mature audiences only, minors do not interact. ageless/anonymous accounts that interact with my account will be blocked.

pairing: dark!post-outbreak!joel miller, afab!reader 😇 warnings: DARK THEMES: DUBCON! (straight porn), p in v sex, creampie, unprotected sex, joel is manipulative and mean, gunplay, slight predator/prey dynamic, reader is described to be shorter than joel, unspecified age gap, pure filth. summary: you're late with a payment and joel isn't too happy.

Everything seemed to be graying.

Losing life, losing potential. It was a continuous cycle. The streaks of dried blood on the cracked pavement, the run-down buildings, the cries of people in need, the dead bodies dumped into fires. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Endless amounts of fear coursed through your veins. Eyes wide, meekly gazing up at the towering figure above you. Stronger, calloused hands grasped at your sides, digging the cold metal of a gun barrel deeper into the side of your head. He cornered you into the back of an alley, with ease, behind one of the many deserted buildings in the QZ.

Joel Miller. His presence, alone, was intimidating. The man you admired from afar. Seeing him work around the QZ, never taking a moment to waste his time. He was a smuggler who didn't fuck around. Joel―the same man was who holding a fucking gun to your head, right now.

"You're seven short. I gave you a week. The fuck 're the rest of the cards?" He snapped, in an unforgiving tone. Joel's inky, rage-ridden eyes stared down at you, with an almost predatorial gaze.

Fuck.

The ration cards.

After making the poor decision to purchase pills from Joel and be late with your payment, the unmistakable feeling of regret began to pitch in. The pills weren't even for you. It was for your neighbor junkie who took advantage of your kindness.

Did Joel give a fuck? No.

His anger was a ticking time bomb. He was getting fed up with your antics. "You know how to fuckin' speak? I asked you a question. Stop fuckin' about and answer." Joel spat. The metal pressed harder against your skull, making you let out a small whimper of pain.

Glancing up with a blank stare, your first instinct was to plead with stumbles and stutters. "Please... p-please, Joel. I'm sorry."

Still pressing the cold, metal barrel of his pistol against your skull, Joel used his free hand to roughly grab your jaw. "How fuckin' pathetic. Think you can beg ya' way outta this? Jesus, you really are a dumb slut." His words cut deep, deep down to the crevice between your legs.

Thousands of possible options to free yourself flowed through your mind. Kick him. Punch him. Scream. Yell. With the smallest amount of hope, you pitifully attempted to move. Joel's grip on your jaw tightens and he presses your head back against the chipped, alleyway wall. "'m serious. 'm this close to blowin' a fuckin' hole in your head." Joel warned in a low tone.

One more potential option that rids all self-respect―take Joel by surprise and kiss him. A silent plea for a second chance. A second chance for your life and for the wet spot in your panties. Sex is majority of what men want as a payment. What makes him different?

Without thinking of repercussions or consequences, you lean up as much as he possibly allows you and press a soft kiss to Joel's lips. A fucking fantasy in your head makes you believe that Joel kissed you back, for the most imperceptible second, even though he ripped away from you in a heartbeat.

You could've sworn that your unexpected actions caused a look of surprise on Joel's face, for a brief moment, before his steeled expression took over, once again. "Fuck is wrong with you?" Joel had a grim look in his eyes. His fingers dug into your cheeks, physically forcing your head upward.

Awaiting your response, a specific thought clicked, deep inside of Joel's mind. "Should fuckin' shoot you, but that ain't what you want, huh, sweet girl?" He murmured huskily, before taking your silence as a chance to speak again. "You want me to take you right here, in this fuckin' alley? Use your words and speak to me properly." Joel said.

"Yes, I want it... I want you." You find yourself nodding, almost in a desperate manner. Joel has a deranged, half-smile plastered on his face. He removes his hand from your face and aimlessly tosses his pistol to the cracked, concrete ground, not faraway from one of the nearby dumpsters. "'Course you do. Seen me around the QZ, practically needin' your pussy to be filled by me, hm?"

As Joel rambles, he undoes his belt, lets his boxers and jeans pool at his boots, and allows his crown jewel to spring free. His cock is girthy and long, with a vein running from his shaft to his throbbing, leaky tip. You blink, admiring his cock, in all its glory. Fuck, he was big. With an uninterested expression, Joel nods toward the pants you were still wearing. "Hurry up and take your fuckin' pants off." He orders.

Spending a moment to clumsily strip your bottoms off, Joel has a stern gaze on you, the entire time. Once done, Joel takes a single step towards you. "Jesus, you're fuckin' soaked." He mumbles. His stronger hands grasp on to your waist, lifting you with ease and pressing you against the wall. Now, Joel has you sandwiched between him and the cracked, alleyway wall.

In this new position, you have an unspeakable urge to kiss Joel, but you know that he'd fucking hate that. He runs the tip of his cock along the sopping, puffy slit of your cunt, mixing his pre-cum with your juices. He softly slaps the tip of his cock against your clit and without wasting another second, Joel pushes his member in, in, and in. The soft sound of your wet pussy squelching around his cock is enough to drive Joel mad. He's stretching your cunt and, fuck, it burns. "So tight..." Joel grunts.

One hand of his is placed firmly on one side of your waist, and the other on your ass. He's slowly kneading the skin without thinking. You let out a small whimper, feeling his leaky tip gently brush against the sensitive spot, deep inside of you. It doesn't take much for Joel to initiate his frantic thrusts. His hips lightly slam against the inner pads of your thighs, mimicking the same, soft slaps of his balls against your leaking slit.

"This what you wanted, hm?" Joel says lowly, burying his head in your neck. Your response of a wordless, frenzied nod, accompanied with pornographic 'ugh, ugh, ugh's, was enough for Joel. You could feel every fucking inch of his cock and, fuck, did it feel good. Small tears formed in the corners of your eyes. Mouth slightly agape and mind too fucked-out, only uttering whines and moans. "Shit... shit, shit..." Letting out a soft gasp, your hips involuntarily started moving back on his, in small movements. Wanting more. Needing more.

The hand that was on your ass, was now pressed firmly on your mouth. "Shut up. Curfew's―fuck―gonna start soon. Don't need FEDRA findin' us." Joel grunted into the hot skin of your neck. Only the muffled whines and soft, lewd noise of his heavy balls slapping against your cunt were faintly heard in the alleyway. Every squelch, every squeeze, every time Joel bottomed out, more liquid leaked out of your sopping slit. "You gonna be good for me?" His voice was soft, a brief, surprising change in his hardened personality.

Not leaving a second for Joel to ponder, your head nodded in a frantic, longing manner. If the words didn't come out muffled, due to Joel's stronger, calloused hand pressed firmly on your mouth, you would've chanted a firm 'yes, yes, yes'.

Joel removed his hand from your mouth to place it back under the fat of your ass. His hips snapped against yours, with his thrusts quickly transitioning from precise to sloppy. The way your pussy clenched and swallowed him, Joel's cock had a ring of your white, sweetness smeared around his hard shaft. He couldn't last long with your cunt, no way in hell. A long spill of curse words from Joel was muttered in the shell of your ear.

Both sensing each other's urgent need to release, every movement heightened. "Fuck, need... please... cum inside me..." Panting softly, your hands instinctively found a soft grip in Joel's graying, curly hair. Usually, he would've hated any form of physical touch besides fucking, but Joel did the unexpected, this time around. His dominant hand gripped your throat, pressing a sloppy kiss to your mouth. With a suppressed moan and hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing the slightest, you came on Joel's cock.

That milky, white consistency of yours spurted on Joel's cock, dripping out of your slit and between your thighs. Joel's face found its way back into the crook of your neck, with the tip of his cock bulging, just right, against your g-spot. "Fuck, fuck..." Joel growled. Clenching tightly around his cock, your mouth fell agape, once again, feeling a sudden fervor in the pit of your stomach. His semen squirted out of his tip, spurting a similar consistency against your cervix.

Not even minutes later, Joel returned to his brooding, persisting self. He pulled out of your cunt, placing you on the ground on slightly trembling legs. Not uttering a single word or sharing a glance in your direction, he properly dressed himself again before picking up his pistol from the cracked ground and turning to leave the wretched alleyway. His actions were leaving you in a whirlwind of confusion and hurt.

"Don't be late on your next payment." Joel called out, turning the corner and leaving your sight.

What the fuck?

🚀 authors note: whew, apologies for not posting in a while. it's gonna be a little bit till my next post, since it's exam week 😔 writers block got me down bad lately, shit's crazyy. always gotta give n pull thru for daddy joel, tho !!

#🚀. cripcross #joel miller smut #post-outbreak!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #the last of us hbo #the last of us smut #pedro pascal smut #joel miller x afab!reader #my writing

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