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#gromsko mw2
soullessdianthus · 6 months
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have you written anything for a perv!gromsko? he is my favorite and i would love to see you write for him!
A/N: I decided to write him in the most stereotypical way which is misogynistic (men in Poland are like this fr *COUGHS*). Just because I gave myself a pass to do that bc I'm Polish, okay? *Muah* to this anon for Polish reference! (づ ̄ ³ ̄)づ
Warnings: misogyny, sabotage in workplace, nsfw (overstimulation, darcyphilia, cockwarming, throat training, dumbification maybe?)
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✧°. Gromsko is a misogynistic kind of pervert. Born and raised in a traditional Polish family he grew unaware of his deepest, darkest desires. Until.
✧°. When you enrolled into the SpecGru forces, he couldn’t believe something as delicate as a girl found herself here, within the private military company. Of course Sobiesław knew women were stronger than it seemed, but not in a fucking battlefield. In his opinion they should worry about hearth and home not a bloodshed. 
✧°. Obviously he had been working with some scary women before, but never with someone like you – still young, perhaps naive even. Your pretty body untouched with little to no scars. You were definitely a description of a delicate flower in his eyes.
✧°. His mother and grandmother raised him well – he would never risk the life of a devoted woman in a place like this. So since the first day Kościuszko saw you enter the gym hall, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.
✧°. Perv!Gromsko would stare from his spot, surrounded by his friends, yet it was you who got his full attention. How your body flexes and muscles stretch while working out or how your breasts bounce as you run on the treadmill. Dear God, don’t give him ideas.
✧°. He was already dreaming of you riding his cock into oblivion, naked while he was in full uniform. Sobiesław’s coarse hands pressing down onto your hips, making you sink further against him and his girl mewling from pleasure.
✧°. Sneaking behind everyone’s back Perv!Gromsko would do everything to be assigned with you while on a mission. Sobiesław very carefully sabotaged your work just for the superiors to punish you. 
✧°. Why? Because he would defend you in front of them, telling them you need another chance, that he would guide you. And since he was an honored soldier within the company, they made him your temporary superior as he had a higher rank than you. From now on, he was responsible for you and your doings. 
✧°. Gromsko had you where he wanted to since the very beginning – vulnerable and dependent. 
✧°. Perv!Sobiesław believed it was meant that way, because women should listen to their husbands, right? First thing he wanted to change in your training routine was cardio. 
✧°. Your comrade told you to show up at his dorm’s door in the evening. Without much thinking of it, you came straight to him, thinking he would take you to gym – how foolish.
✧°. A loud gasp escaped your mouth, when the man that was supposed to help you with your training session was pressing your face into the bedroom’s wall as his huge hands were groping your breasts! Perv!Gromsko would correct your stamina by relentlessly thrusting into your tight cunt, causing you to beg for a break with tears streaming down your eyes. 
✧°. Evening sessions with Sobiesław became an almost daily occurrence. The man would bend you in different positions on his bed, thrusting deep into your pretty pussy until you couldn’t cum anymore. Perv!Gromsko would mock your lack of stamina and threaten he would not allow you to go on a mission if you hadn’t tried harder.
✧°. So he began training your throat breath by telling you to keep his cock in your wet mouth for a good while, sucking gently from time to time. Of course your tears and sobs were causing him to feel pity for you, but Sobiesław was doing this to help you become better! :( 
✧°. He was reading a book, the one from his grandma, while you were laying between his toned legs, keeping his throbbing member warm. You would whine from time to time from the lack of enough oxygen. But then Gromsko would simply caress your pretty, silly head and tell you how good job you’re doing. <3
✧°. “Such a good girl f’me.”
✧°. “No dalej, dasz radę, Mała [pol.: Come on, you can do this, little one].”
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xbruised-peachx · 2 months
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OH DAMN IT AH SHIT AH FUCK OH NO OH GOD MY 4K SPECIAL FOR TWITTER NOOOOO
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additional transparent versions
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nrdmssgs · 6 months
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How your first kisses with Nikto and Gromsko would feel
Masterlist Part 1 (Gaz, Soap, Ghost) Part 2 (Price, Nikolai, König)
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Never wrote for these two, but... hey, why not? Maybe I got too carried away with Niktos drama.
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Nikto
A few saw the fear in this man's eyes. But here you are: looking him deep in the eyes and witnessing panic taking over Niktos mind.
The only time, he takes off his mask with you around is when you are sleeping. No matter how much reassurance you gave him - he only allows himself to spend a few hours without disguise, strictly when you can't see him.
Sometimes you wake up, feeling him sliding under your blanket, pressing his chest against your back. But he never lets you turn back to face him. Any attempt of yours ends up with Nikto hugging you tighter, burying his face somewhere between a pillow and your hair, muttering 'Spi krepko, moy svet*'.
You are his light, so he is determined to never darken your life with the sight of his face. So imagine his horror when he wakes up from the touch of your fingers on his cheek. He must have relaxed too much, didn't notice you shifting in your sleep. And now it is too late: you see, even worse - you feel his ugliness on the tips of your fingers.
He freezes, but something unkind awakes in his eyes. Guilt, self-hatred, doubt.
"We must go." Nikto snarls raspy and sharply pulls away from your hands. He must disappear from your sight, stop harassing your soft soul with his face right now.
You know, how bad it is when this 'we' appears instead of 'I'. This rarely happens, but when it starts - he abandons you for weeks, sometimes for months, hiding somewhere from the entire world. And you can't let this situation escalate.
With one swift motion, you catch his hand and pull it to your face. His name, not a call sign, his real name escapes from your lips and that catches his attention.
"Look at me. Stay close and look at me, love." You talk to him, as if you are guiding him through all his terrors towards a solace, he usually finds in your eyes.
As his fingers trace your features, you mimic his movements, letting him feel, how his touch feels against your skin. Slowly, his breath steadies.
You don't rush it: you let him calm down and get comfortable before you lean closer and plant the softest kiss at the corner of his lips. Nikto doesn't lean back, doesn't push you away, but he presses his lips firmly together and slowly shakes his head in silent refusal.
I can't.
You learned to understand him, even when he doesn't let some thoughts out. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but you learned to read it in his eyes. And now you see regret and sorrow. His face stays calm, but his eyes scream 'I would give anything to be able to dare, but I can't'.
So you do it for him: dare to cross this line instead of him. Your first kiss is left unanswered, but as you brush your lips against his again and again - he closes his eyes, lowers his head in a final attempt to regain control over himself, but fails and catches your lips in a short, but desperate kiss.
His answer to your caresses is like a distant storm - abrupt touches to your lips resemble lightning dancing over the horizon, his hands slowly bringing you closer shatter your mind like a thunder. Never have you ever felt so much from so little contact. This man has such a power over you - it should scare you. But you feel like you want more: you want his lips to linger on yours for a longer time, you want his hands running all over your body.
You allow yourself just a taste - a tip of your tongue lightly traces just a few millimeters of his Niktos lips, and he groans quietly. As he pauses for a moment to look you in the eyes and maybe find there regret or disgust, you can barely calm down your deepened breath and ask, plead to keep kissing you.
He traces his fingers over your jawline and deepens the kiss, gradually leaving sorrow and fear of scaring you away behind. For who is he to deny his light's wish? Nobody. Nikto.
Spi krepko, moy svet* - sleep well, my light
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Sobieslaw "Gromsko" Kościuszko
Two main things, you've learned about this big burly loud guy over the years of your friendship are his incredible hospitality and absolute forgiveness. Those, who don't know him, may be afraid of Gromsko the first time they see him, but you know the guy too well for that. He is a giant softie, when it comes to you.
So there were no allegations, when you not even offered, but straight presented him with a fait accompli, that you are cooking a dinner at his place the next time, you visit him. You didn't tell him, but you were afraid, that if he cooks once again for you - you are not leaving his house, you are rolling out of it. His eagerness to feed you could compete only with your granny`s. Maybe it was a cultural thing, maybe he genuinely was worried about you being too small - but Gromsko saw it like his top priority mission.
"Sobieslaw, stop it right now, or I'm chopping your fingers off!" You laugh, maneuvering a kitchen knife, so that it touches only carrot. It's impossible to shield a cutting board from him, as Gromsko practically envelops you, laying his chin on the top of your head and stealing a bite of every single ingredient, you use.
"I'm helping, słoneczko*!" You like the feeling of his voice, reverberating in his broad chest. It is like a purring cat, pressed against your back.
Maybe you lean back on him too obviously, because at some point he smirks and asks if you need more space.
"I'm fine, So. Just... just try to not eat our dinner before I even cooked it, ok?" You are still giggling and don't even notice, how he drops his face into your hair and just stands like that, drowning in your scent.
"Good. It is good, you feel fine, when I'm around." Suddenly his voice is much softer, and you hear him right above your ear.
He brushes your hair off the side and plants a small warm kiss right behind your ear. You freeze, not sure, how to interpret this sudden shift in your friend's behavior.
"I should stop, or you're chopping my fingers right now?" He is so close, yet he doesn't touch you anymore. Not until you let him.
You slowly turn to him. "I should, if you didn't mean, what you just did."
His face lights with the happiest, widest smile.
"Oh, but I do, słońce. I certainly do."
His kiss on your lips is incredibly soft, his warm breath tickles your skin, as he cups your face. Sobieslaw is caring in every his motion, helping you to relax and just live in this moment. He smiles into your kiss, gives you a complete freedom to do whatever you feel like, only showing you, that there is nothing, he wouldn't do for you. As his tongue brushes against yours, warmth ignites deep in your chest and feels you with a sensational feeling. Feeling of becoming his.
słoneczko and słońce - sunshine
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fnny-bnny · 10 months
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gromsko nsft a-z alphabet
a/n: lol i have a huge language fetish sorry not sorry. thank you to the polish speaker who helped with translations! if you see this, please let me know if you want to be tagged or not ☺️
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render by @namedlunagoddess; saved from twitter
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
he’s very big on aftercare! part of his aftercare for himself is ensuring that he’s not only satisfied you, but has also done his part in making you feel safe and secure, especially for quickies. he keeps a towel warmer nearby so that when he cleans you up he’s not using a cold rag. he’s big on cuddling too- thoroughly enjoys skin to skin contact with you. it makes him feel good. makes him feel like he’s protecting you and in a way he kind of is.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
! huge tit guy ! loves pawing and groping and kissing and biting your breasts and nipples until they're all puffy and sensitive for when he pinches them between his calloused fingers
he loves his mouth and tongue. loves the way he can draw out such intense reactions from you when he eats you out or even just kisses you. uses lip balm daily to keep his lips soft for you
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
loves cumming inside you. prefers your cunt, but he'll gladly cum wherever you prefer if you're not super into that. if you do let him cum inside you, he’ll watch as it drips out of you just so he can fuck it back into you as you whine into his neck
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
honestly a huge medfet and somno fan. 100% fantasizes about fucking you while you're passed out under anesthesia. they're just fantasies, of course, but that doesn't stop him from thinking about it!
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
don't get it twisted, because sobi can FUCK. i feel like he was a big fan of casual sex/friends with benefits when he was younger but as he's matured and grown emotionally, he prefers to have a single partner. he knows that he's got plenty of experience, though, so he doesn't worry about not being able to satisfy you
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
loves loves loves the mastery position!! easy access to kiss your chest and lips and to see your reactions as he fucks into you. easy for him to hold you to his body and easy access to your clit! he loves to wrap his arms around you while he’s inside you. makes him go crazy in the best way
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
goes with the flow! if you're giggling, he's giggling right along with you. loves it when you're giggling about something before he slips inside you because then he can kiss you and feel you moan into his mouth as he stretches you out
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
he keeps himself trimmed just enough but he leaves some around the base of his cock because he likes feeling your nose pressed into him. also enjoys the way you get dripping wet from smelling his musk
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
always always always soft with you, even if he’s not romantic in the traditional sense. he’ll be telling you one thing (“such a greedy cunt, kochanie. i can feel it swallowing my fucking fingers. so messy because of me.”) but he’s got a smile on his face while pressing kisses to any part of your skin that he can get to
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
shower jerker for sure! gets off on the idea of you being on your knees for him while you’re under the water, his fist in your hair to keep you still as he fucks your throat
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
medfet, cockwarming, small cumplay kink, and very into facefucking! also this may be a controversial opinion, but i think for quickies specifically he’s into the idea of being caught by someone. he’s proud that he’s yours and he wants people to know that! very into marking you as well
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
either your apartment or his, but if those aren’t available, his locked office or the back of his car will do the trick. so long as he has privacy he's good but he absolutely prefers somewhere familiar where he feels safe and comfortable
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
seeing you swoon over him and/or something he does for you gets him semi at best and rock hard at worst. he once caught you staring as he was loading crates into a supply truck, tossing them around like it was nothing. he found you after he finished, dragging you into a bathroom stall so he could have his way with you
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
make you cry out of pain! he hates seeing you hurt and he never wants to be the reason you’re hurting, physically or emotionally. if it ever happened, he’d coddle you for days after, apologizing to you profusely in whispered english and polish with every apology followed up with a soft kiss to your skin until he’s sure you’re ok
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
he is a MUNCH, your honor!!!! lives for giving head and couldn't really care less if he received it or not (not to say he'll complain if/when you go down on him). he's incredibly skilled. frequently eats the filling out of pączki before eating the actual pastry itself just because he can
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
goes with the flow for this as well, but definitely leans towards slow and sensual if he’s got nothing else to do. he’s a passionate man and he enjoys getting to know what makes you tick, as well as finding new things that you both enjoy. he sees sex as a bonding activity to be enjoyed, and enjoy it he does!
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
huge fan of quickies. loves pulling you into his office for a fervent makeout session before a meeting so he can get you hot and bothered. pulls you into an empty meeting room or secluded storage office after the meeting is over so he can finish what he started
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
he’s game to experiment, especially if it’s something you bring up to him but, even if you asked, he would never take risks he deemed truly serious with you. one time you brought up knife and gun play to him, not to ask for it, you were just expressing your surprise at finding out people were into it, and he shut the idea of it down immediately. “absolutely fucking not. i’ll do so many things for you, baby, and you know that. that is not one of them. it never has been and it never will be. i love you too much.”
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
can and will go for 2-3 rounds if you're down for it. he’s very proud of this and will absolutely show off at the beginning of the relationship because of it (he stills shows off, but he’ll never tell anyone that)
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
owns a sleeve! he only really uses it if he's away from you for more than a couple weeks at a time. very much prefers the real thing
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
doesn't like to tease on purpose, at least not too much. he does know what gets you going, though, so he uses that to his advantage if he ever does want to get you wet without touching you
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
not loud volume wise, but he’s very vocal in the bedroom. hushed dirty talking in both polish and english (Kurwa- Dokładnie tak, nie przestawaj. Twoja cipka jest dla mnie taka mokra. Zostałaś kurwa stworzona dla mnie, stworzona dla tego kutasa. That’s it, baby. All for me.), grunts and groans, and lots of panting from him! he lowkey gets off on hearing himself, he sees it as showing you how good you make him feel
W = Wild card(s) (random headcanon(s) for the character)
has a shibari fantasy! wants to tie you up and take his time with you. he feels so bad for leaving you on your lonesome when he's on a mission for long stretches, especially when he's on ones where he's not allowed to contact you, that he really views it as a way to make it up to you and to spend quality time with you
also has a subbing fantasy. would go wild in the sweetest way if you ever took control from him, especially when he’s just getting back from a mission. don’t get me wrong, he loves the dynamic you two have already, but there’s something about the way you hold him close to your chest while you rake your fingers through his hair and across his scalp while you’re grinding slowly against him that he goes soft for
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
6 1/2 in or 16.5cm, thick but not painfully or uncomfortably so, uncut!!, and a deliciously heavy sack 😌
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
a little higher than average but he's nowhere near being a nympho. he’s just pent up from being in the field for so long and he wants to show you that he’s still got it after he hasn’t seen you for a while
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
doesn’t fall asleep until he’s sure you’re safe and comfortable. he’s big on aftercare, and this is part of it. he stays awake to run his fingers through your hair and across your skin. he also really enjoys humming to you, favoring polish lullabies to soothe himself and you (kotki dwa is his favorite, but you didn’t hear that from me)
in this context, kochanie - honey/sweetheart/baby
“fuck, you feel so good. your pussy is so wet for me. you were fucking made for me, made for this dick. that’s it, baby. all for me.”
kotki dwa is a popular polish lullaby/nursery rhyme. i like to think that his grandmother would sing it to him after a nightmare to get him back to sleep. i feel like he’s a very sentimental person, so it only makes sense that he’s kept the tradition alive
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namikaaah · 1 month
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"Gromsko"
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I don't really like it, but let it be🤕
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b1rds3ye · 8 months
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Of Dreams and Legends
In the middle of the night you have a heart to heart with the legendary Gromsko. You learn what inspires him to keep fighting, and somehow, that includes you.
Pairing: Sobiesław “Gromsko” Kościuszko x GN!Reader
Genre: Fluff, Confessions, Friends to Lovers
Word Count: 3.1k
Warning: My interpretation of Gromsko’s character, Reader doesn’t know Polish
A/N: Something about Gromsko’s voicelines and bio just makes him seem like an old heroic story in the making to me, so I wrote about it a lil 😌
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The air held a chill tonight, lightly nipping at the exposed skin on your neck and face. Zipping up your jumper you laid with your back against the cold surface to look up to the skies. It probably would be for the best that you head back inside, but it wasn’t every night the sky would be this clear. To admire the sublime in the stars as they twinkled down at you. These days they are known as nothing more than gargantuan balls of gas, the unwanted remains of the universe, but how could one not romanticise the sight above you? Up in the expansive skies, every battle paled in comparison. These mundane balls of gas have been unchanging for millenia, the skies you are looking up now, how many others are admiring it? Not just tonight but in the years of yore. Battle armour, weaponry, nation borders and all would have changed, yet when all was done and dusted, you would all be looking up at the same skies.
A bang and a foreign curse had you jolting out of your reverie. Gaze upside down, you shot a glare at who was intruding, only to relax at the welcome sight of a familiar face.
“Sobiesław?”
“Serduszko, you do not make it easy to find you,” he grunted, grabbing his leg to manually get it over the railing.
“I just wanted to admire the night skies.”
“On the roof of our base?”
You shrugged. Sobiesław walked towards you, each footstep heavy against the roof panels, sending reverberations that vibrated rhythmically against your back with a pleasant hum.
He stood beside you, feet by your knees as he followed your gaze to the skies. Hands as fists on his waist, he made a startled noise before turning to you again.
“Did you not wish to be found? I will return to the others, alone time can be good for a soldier.”
“No, no. You’re always welcome,” you grinned.
Sobiesław’s face always held a slight scowl, it was intimidating until you realised it was unintentional. He says it was because he has spent years surrounded by skurwysyny (a word he has refused to translate for you but given how freely he says it to the enemy, you got the gist of it). Still, despite his natural frown, it softens at your words.
“It is hard to see but there is a star formation, named after a Polish king.”
You offer an inquisitive tilt of the head at his comment, wordlessly inviting him as you shift to the side to make space for him. He situated himself down beside you with a grunt of effort and you were lost for words as he adjusted to get himself comfortable against the rough texture of the roof. Sobiesław wasn’t the tallest nor the most imposing of soldiers in your company, but he managed to become a member of SpecGru for a reason. His frame was broad and sturdy, the breathing image of the quintessential soldier, postered on walls as propaganda to rouse even the most reluctant to action. His form emanated a comforting and welcome heat that soothed the bite of the night air. All of a sudden you felt rather sleepy.
Sobiesław raised an arm, pointing at the night sky. Even under his clothes you could see the curves of his muscles stretch out the wrinkles of his sleeve. The boulder that was his shoulder leading to the chain of muscle that was his bicep, linking to his forearm that was slightly flexed with the angle of his hand. Even his finger, relaxedly pointed to a dark patch in the sky, seemed determined.
“It is hard to see, but it should be there.”
Sobiesław pulls himself closer to you so that you can follow his directed hand better, a move that made you far too conscious that you were with him, alone and isolated from the rest of the company. And with the slight quirk of his lip, you were sure he was aware too.
“Scutum Sobiescianum, Shield of Sobieski. A Polish king who defended Vienna from the Turks. This was centuries ago, but I still feel great pride when I hear such an achievement.”
You stay quiet as you squint, trying to look into the supposed darkness to find this supposed constellation of defence. After some investigating you let out a sigh of defeat. You dropped your head onto the roof, creating a light thud. Sobiesław let out a hearty chuckle, turning his body so he can reach over with his far arm, offering you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. You responded with a pout, his sheer strength meant that your body shook slightly with each pat.
“Do not worry, you do not have to see it, just know it is there,” Sobiesław reassured, giving your shoulder an extra squeeze before retreating his arm. “Aiding as a shield for allies is honourable, even if he was only abiding by a treaty.”
“You’ve always liked your history, haven’t you?”
“Greatly. Learning about the victories of the past is motivating.”
You’re not surprised. Sobiesław was not an old man and he didn’t carry himself as such, but he conducted himself in a way you have not seen in anyone else, especially on the battlefield. In combat, a soldier is selfish out of the primal need for survival. One follows orders because that’s the best chance they have of keeping their head attached to their shoulders. To deny themselves the responsibility of atrocities committed, even complacency and teamwork is just a desperate act of self-preservation, one that everyone is guilty of and can not condemn.
But Sobiesław was different. He never seemed to fight for himself. On missions, even under the glare of his signature glasses, he was always looking past the objective, over the horizon and to something greater. No matter how long he spent on foreign soil, he left the stamp of his motherland under his boots as he marched onward. Whenever you fell in battle, body unrecognisable in a coating of blood that you’re not sure is yours or the enemy’s, he is there to pick you up. Not only literally but spiritually as he rouses you to keep fighting with words of encouragement that strike the cords of your heart. Words that you swore were taken from an ancient scripture with how they unleash reservoirs of energy lost deep in your soul. His words were loud and panicked, but not once is it out of concern for his own well-being, or how the mission or his military career could be jeopardised if anything else goes wrong. In those moments, he was fighting and breathing for you.
“Did it motivate you to enlist?”
“Yes. It motivated me before I realised.”
You frowned at his odd answer.
“How so?”
“I had a dream,” he stated, nostalgia warming his voice. He pulled his head in, craning his neck at an odd angle to speak to you quietly, like he was giving you the secrets of the universe. With a wave of the hand he ushers you in and you entertain him.
“When I was little, I always dreamt of a hussar before I even knew what they were. I think it was fate, a sign from above for me to enlist.”
You stare at him in disbelief.
“There was actually a painting of a hussar in the living room of my babcia… I don’t tell anyone that last bit, it is more fun that way.”
You failed miserably at stifling a laugh, in return he smiles as he pulls away. Even with the extra tidbit of information, his motivations still felt almost fable-like, like a myth in the making.
“I can see it,” you giggled, lifting your arms up in the air as you gestured animatedly. “The old wives will be talking about the legendary Gromsko. The quintessential soldier, called to action by the restless spirit of an old warrior in his dreams. He becomes the inspiration for all the future generations. The story of the chosen one who saves the world!”
“I tell you too much,” Sobiesław groans.
“They should make a movie out of you.”
“I am too boring.”
“You’re too humble.”
Sobiesław laughed, but you did not. Leaving the sight of the stars - you had still been half-heartedly trying to distinguish the shield of a king from the darkness - you fully turned to him. You ignored the dull throb of your arm now squished between your body weight and the roof, far too distracted by how close you were to him now that the two of you were facing each other.
“Truly. Even without the dreams I think you’re an inspiration.”
You didn’t realise how sentimental you sounded until you released your words into the air. You consequently chewed at your lips, forcefully sealing them. Your voice didn’t have to fight against the midnight breeze, instead your words settled comfortably in the small space between the two of you, warm and festering in the silence.
Sobiesław was unresponsive, eyebrows far more furrowed than usual. Feigning your embarrassment as getting comfortable against the ceiling, you dipped your head down to avoid seeing his reaction.
“Do you still have that dream?” You asked hurriedly.
“... No.”
It wasn’t everyday you heard Sobiesław hesitate. He had a gruff voice that was quick to speak his mind. It was so honest that his thoughts were often unfiltered in Polish and accompanied with colourful curses to add some extra honesty. There was even the odd, throaty, unintelligible sound as his mouth worked quicker than his mind. But here he was, strategising his next words to you.
“I stopped having that dream when I joined SpecGru.”
You blinked, almost fully flinching away from him in a knee-jerk reaction.
“Ah…”
You couldn’t help but shrink into yourself, drawing your knees close to your vitals. While you did not regret joining SpecGru, you knew for a fact it was not for the faint of heart. What made waking up at base easier was the people there, with a certain Polish man heartily hollering good morning to you on the daily at 6am sharp with a voice that consequently woke up the rest of the barracks. The fact he never failed to give you a pat on the back, still having the energy to look optimistically to the next day even with the losses of a mission gone south. Even on quiet nights like these, while few and far between, you would be able to catch a glimpse of the man under the near brutish exterior. Behind the mythos and acts of altruism was a human with their own selfish needs and doubts. A sensitive man who related to you and brought you comfort when the darkness of battle bled over to your consciousness.
You had only hoped you could have done the same for him.
“I take it SpecGru didn’t meet expectations?”
You couldn’t stop the waver in your voice.
“Huh? No, it exceeded them, Serduszko.”
He turned away, back flat on the roof. Once again he looks to the cosmos, honing in on something beyond your comprehension.
“I am not done yet. I still wish to see the glory of Poland, but I want my own happiness.”
“Naturally,” you nod. Out of all the soldiers you knew, no one deserved a happy ending more than him. One where the monster is slain, peace is restored, and the hero lives happily ever after.
“I dream of returning home, I will bring my friends of new to the land of old.”
You offered a light hum of approval. It was such a simple wish, but wasn’t that the case for all heroes? To wish for something so mundane but to naturally bring greatness? Even when their dreams are supposedly selfish, their innate kindness brings glory to the good and delivers swift justice to those necessary.
“You are there,” Sobiesław murmured. Like a dream you question if he even spoke, voice so airy it blended with the rush of the breeze against your ears. Even the coarse edges of his voice become one with the low tones emanating from a nearby ventilation unit.
“You are in all of my dreams.”
Sobiesław is not looking at you, attention still trained on the stars, perhaps waiting for one to shoot across the sky. To make a wish, any little bit of aid to make a dream come true and you’re tempted to try and shoot one down for him with a rifle. Anything for him. Perhaps it was possible to fight selflessly, to bring another’s dream to fruition. Was there such a thing as staying alive for someone else? To spend your missions ensuring you return to base not for your own self, but so Sobiesław will have someone to bring home? But you can not guarantee your own life. You refused to make empty promises - Sobiesław absolutely hates them - so instead, you only offer your flimsy honesty.
“I think that dream is doable.”
“You are the hardest part about it.”
“What?”
You sat up immediately. You shot a light-hearted glare but your heart genuinely felt a pang at the sadness invading Sobiesław’s voice. How his nose twitches, trying to prevent a frown from settling on his face.
“But I’m right here!” You brought both hands to hammer at your chest, nailing in your point. “I better not be kicked out of SpecGru anytime soon. I’d love to be one of the friends you bring back home-”
“Ha!”
Sobiesław lets out a singular laugh, all air escaping his lungs to create a foreign sound that is as bitter as it is loud. You were sure he frightened a couple birds in a nearby tree who decided to migrate early from the disruption. You hoped none of the operators went to bed early else they would have had a nasty wake up call as his voice travelled in all directions, invading any of the open windows in the base.
When the echoes of his laugh settled to the ground, it dragged the warmth in the air with it. A sombre coldness came tenfold, you started to wrap your arms around your form, entering a foetal position as you looked at Sobiesław.
“It is my fault,” his confession comes out in a low groan, bringing up a hand to rub at his face. In between rubs he lets out a few quiet curses, words strained. When he is done, he still isn’t looking at you.
“I do not want to bring you back to Poland as just a friend.”
He dared to look at you and the light in his eyes snatched the air out of your lungs. Even under furrowed eyebrows his pupils were blown wide, taking you in as if you were the stars themselves. All seeing, all knowing. Even though you thought nothing special of yourself he turns to you with reverence as if you were the one who could make all his dreams come true.
You bring your gaze up to the sky, in hopes that the infinite expanse of the universe could do anything for your pounding heart. But they did little to settle your heart or your hasty breaths. The stars above really weren’t anything of wonder, were they? A shooting star is only a meteor, a large rock that will disintegrate in due time. The heroes of the past were often only average joes that were in the right place at the right time. Dreams were only the remnants of memories and experiences being fired off by neurons, to be forgotten in the void once one wakes up.
And yet you couldn’t help but romanticise it all the same.
It wouldn’t hurt, would it? Just like how Sobiesław keeps prancing around the base telling everyone his childhood dreams of a hussar were “fate”, couldn’t you make this fate too? Magical, like a prophecy. A promise that could survive any time or mission, that holds strong even against fate itself. The tale of Sobiesław’s recurring dreams that guide him to glory and consequently to you. A legend of your own.
“Then don’t,” you whispered.
“Take me to Poland as your lover.”
You didn’t think Sobiesław could look at you anymore in awe than before, but tonight was full of surprises. A heavy pause stills the air as he takes just a moment too long to understand your words. You couldn’t help but smile at how his face contorted with shock and confusion, he probably didn’t expect you to reciprocate so suddenly. But just like him, you had been dreaming of a scenario like this.
“You always have such good ideas,” Sobiesław chuckled. His boyish grin is roughened by his ragged features, but it doesn’t make it any less endearing. Pure and genuine, it had been a long time since you had seen such an expression on him. Sitting up, he reaches over to slide you across to him and again you find yourself ogling his impressive musculature. The fibres of his body swelling and flexing, his every move seemed to embody the strength of a hundred warriors. Such power and potential devoted to little old you as Sobiesław pulls you flush to his own body.
He’s like an overgrown heater, his body warmth emanating even through the thick wool of his jumper. Warm as though he was the very campfire that soldiers lit up for peace and respite at the end of a day of bloodshed. But not as warm as the lips that pressed against yours when you tilted your head to look up at him. His lips were a little chapped, the remnants of his celebratory vodka adding a crisp tang to the kiss. His actions driven by sheer passion, an arm now circling your shoulder blades and pulling you impossibly tight to him. You were trapped in his embrace, whole body entranced by his. All that was on your mind was the feeling of his being surrounding you. His calloused hands gripped onto you with a pleasant burn. Even as you struggled to breathe through your nose, your senses were filled with his cologne spiked with the smell of gunpowder and wilderness.
He let out a disapproving huff as you reluctantly pull away from him for some air, but Sobiesław still looks ever the victorious soldier.
“You make me indulge too much, Serduszko,” he exhaled.
You pressed your cheek into the fabric of his jumper, breaking into a fond smile as you cuddle into him.
“You know, you’ve never told me what that meant.”
Sobiesław took a moment to pull his head back far enough to plant a kiss on your forehead.
“It means ‘sweetheart’,” he replied smugly.
You froze.
“You mean, you called me that on missions? When we were talking to our contractors? Our direct superiors?!”
“Uh… Good thing no one else speaks Polish here, yes?”
With a joyous laugh like his, you can’t bring yourself to be angry.
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Call of Duty Masterlist
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wannabehussar · 3 months
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Komsko nation how we feeling tonight?
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bonkchai · 11 months
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Shout out to my silly boy Gromsko who gets literally no love. I love him so dearly. Also, someone pointed this out but I forgot who it was, but can we talk about how strong this mf must be to carry that with one hand? This mf LIFTS. Like he’s gotta be strong as shit, also he’s just cutie patootie as a whole. His voice is my favorite thing. STOP! SLEEPING! ON! GROMSKO! Give my baby girl some love please 😕. Where are his fics ☹️.
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tacticalanklebiter3000 · 10 months
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COD ask thingy - Gromsko, glasses
Gromsko x Reader
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cw: strangers meet, Gromkso thinks you're a cutie :3c, fluff, something cute and short
the corner store was quiet as this hour, very little workers and even fewer people. the florescent lights were somehow too bright and remarkably dim. corner stores at late night hours were just an extension of limbo, you were sure.
you wandered the aisles, adjusting your glasses to see the aisle markers more clearly. directories lead you on your way to the item you were looking for, but one exceptionally large man stood between you and it. the last stop on your list and you just had to just-
'-gonna squeeze right behind yo-ow!'
"o kurwa! bardzo przepraszam!" Gromsko had turned around too fast for his wide frame. [fuck-! I'm so sorry!]
he had completely missed your warning that you were right behind him and whipped around. ceral box in hand, he accidently knocked your glasses right off with the side. it caught you both off guard. you, left more stunned than him without your glasses.
Gromsko scrambled to pick up your glasses from the floor, completely forgetting his box of cereal. "im so sorry," he repeated, his polish accent thick.
you rubbed your aching nose and politely waved off his apology. Gromsko set your glasses in your palm; thankfully, nothing broken. when your glasses where finally situated properly, the two of you met eyes.
"I am. so sorry," he looked like he was going to out himself in the corner for accidently bumping you.
"it's ok! just an accident! happy my glasses aren't broken," you laughed, looking up at him.
buh dum
Gromsko met your eyes, immediately enamored by the way the light reflexed off of your frames and into your eyes. he seemed to lose his train of thought at the proper sight of you. usually he wasn't at a loss for words, but you were breathtaking. your face flushes, hoping you didn't have something on it that would make him stare.
"uhm t-thank you, by the way! for gabbing my glasses." he nodded and smiled, a bit lopsided and nervous. you smiled back and gave him a soft wave. "have a good night."
"ty też- I- you too!"
late-night corner store trips are his new favorite.
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alligatorstomachacid · 6 months
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Gunslinger!Ghost is haunting me fr! I love cowboys 😻. Ask me about him, even though I'm on the verge of dying I want thirst asks of this man, along with Mace, Gromsko, and Gaz! Check my writing list please! I may slow down on my spiderman stuff tbh. The hyper fixation is slowly going down, but I know it'll be back.
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mr-not-null · 1 year
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canwaym · 10 months
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It was a hit on Twitter, but maybe you guys will like them too. Your fav military men with neon cat edit by yours truly free to use
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More yet to come, you can suggest whoever you would like me to do next~
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xbruised-peachx · 10 months
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first time making something like an animatic, was very interesting and fun (it took me at least 30-40 hours please send help /j)
IB this art from @yooo-lets-go!
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nrdmssgs · 5 months
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Prazdnik (part 1)
Masterlist
Part 2
Pairing: Nikto x reader Fluff. This guy can't let himself just start a happy life, but its all fluff. AN: I swear, I don't have a single idea, how this happened, but I woke up with the strongest itch to comfort Nikto today. Summary: you are trying to express your gratitude and comfort your colleague in a not-so-conventional way.
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You figured out, that Nikto is not a big fan of communicating with others, when he was off duty. You asked him to teach you how to pick locks without extra noise. And so he did - he spent much time and effort between missions to make sure, you know your ways around different types of locks. But every time, you tried to thank him after yet another lesson - he stood up and left the room. As awkward as it looked from the outside, it never seemed to bother him.
He never joined your little group celebrations. Of course, others too sometimes passed them due to various reasons, but Nikto never came. At first, you thought, he just had a full life outside the work and had no time for his colleagues, but soon you noticed, he rarely left the base, even when he had such an opportunity.
On a rare occasion, he was ok with you siting beside him in the armory, as he took care of his gear. Although every time, you approached him, Nikto 'greeted' you with 'is it going to be a question about lock picking or some more of your nonsense?'. 'Nonsense' was you asking him little, not too intimate questions about his life and culture. You just wanted to find out, what makes this man smile, what, if anything at all, brings him peace and comforts him.
Nikto never overshared, but little by little he opened up. He seemed especially at ease, when he told you something about his childhood: little children games, they played with other kids from the neighborhood, his favorite radio-shows from back then, celebrations, they used to have. You couldn't be a hundred percent sure because of his mask - but you thought, his eyes seemed softer at these moments.
There was only one way to find out for sure, if those memories really made him as happy, as you thought. And it also provided you with a way to thank him for his help. So you sank into studying endless forums and videos, to make a surprise. After weeks of preparing (after all, you didn't have that much spare time between the missions, trainings and paper work) you gave a final look to your private room and sighed. It would either humiliate you till the end of times, or bring a smile on his face. So... worth a risk.
"I taught you for almost half a year... only for you to not be able to pick the simplest lock? And where could you possibly lose a key to your own room?" Nikto grumbles, following you down an empty corridor. He was clearly not happy with you interrupting his first calm evening after the mission, and it made you regret your idea in advance.
He opens your door with such ease, as if he was holding not a picklock, but your key. You await any reaction on what he sees inside your room, but Nikto turns away and starts walking back, not even peeking inside.
"Wait! I have to show you something! Its important!" You grab him by the sleeve in desperation and drag back.
Nikto freezes on your threshold, finally seeing, what is exactly going on in your room. He looks back at you in confusion.
"What's this all about? Is it some joke?" He carefully rounds up a large sheet of craft paper laid out on the floor. A sheet, that you painted for almost a week, occasionally looking at photographs of festive tables from Russia.
"Its a surprise. I know, celebrations are not your thing really and you dont celebrate Christmas. But I thought that maybe, just maybe, youll be willing to celebrate something from your childhood with me. This is... skatert`*" You feel awkward. It's a good thing, your room is lit up only with a few candles (one covered with a peeling grater, because he told him, thats how they used to make a fancy lamp out of practically nothing). This way he won't see blush on your face.
He descends on the floor, and moves away a few plates and tangerines, you placed on the paper to be able to properly read, what you've written in the middle of your improvised festive table. You are ready to die of shame then and there, but he reaches out an open palm to you.
"Give me a pen. There is a mistake. 'S novym godom*' goes with 'M' at the end." You can't believe your ears, but pull out a pen from the pocket.
Nikto takes it, but doesn't proceed to correct your writing - he still looks you in the eyes.
"Sadis`, nauchu tebya, kak pravil`no*." You don't understand a single word, put he pats the empty space beside him and you sit down.
"So, what's about all this with a New Year in October?" You almost see amused wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, as if Nikto is smiling. But his question still comes out in a cautious tone.
"Well... Consider this a rehearsal. I wanted to give you your favorite holiday, but I probably made the wrong salad, and the tablecloth is not the same as in your childhood, and instead of champagne we will have tea and instead of a TV... a box with a hole and painted buttons. So you can tell me what to fix, and I'll work on the 'Novyy God 2.0' till the end of December."
Nikto turns to you fully and tilts his head to the side. "You're saying, this is supposed to resemble an Olivier salad?"
"I know, it looks all wrong, but hear me out!" You move a plate with your interpretation of Russian festive food to him. "It tastes much better than it looks! Try!"
He hesitates for a minute, then another. Then he moves the candles further away, so his face remains in the darkness and unfastens the straps holding his mask in place. On one hand you don't mean to make him uncomfortable with your stare, but on the other you genuinely care for his initial reaction to what you've cooked, so you glance at him briefly. You can still see the outlines of scarred skin, but everything you care for is a tiny shadow of a smile, you notice on his lips.
"Kak ty... ok, this tastes much better than it looks." For the first time you hear some unmasked joy in his voice.
For some time, the room falls into a comfortable silence. The candlelight flickers, casting vague shadows on both of you. You rejoice simply at the opportunity to sit quietly next to him and enjoy the moment, while munching on what you've prepared - even if the table is not real, and there are still two and a half months before the holiday. Nikto traces the flowers, you painted on paper with his fingers.
"You even made a TV... What for?" His voice, much softer and quieter than usual, sounds somewhere above your ear. While eating, you moved a bit closer to him and Nikto didn't seem to protest.
"Oh, that's the best part! I remember you telling me, that you used to listen to New Year greetings from the president on radio and television. So today I will work as a president... I don’t know, president of our base."
"My fucking god, you serious?" Nikto almost choked on yet another spoon of salad.
You didn't give yourself time to develop any shame or cringe and proceeded to the big box with a square cut out hole. If you are disgracing yourself for this man to have some good memories of today - you are going all the way down.
"Ok, I have a little speech here. Please bear with the shittiest version of Russian, you've ever heard..."
When you begin to hesitatingly and slowly read the congratulations, Nikto presses his fist to his face and quietly shakes in silent laughter. As you end and proceed to back to your place - he can't hold back his chuckles. It’s so unusual to see this man relaxed, maybe even happy.
"Idi syuda, prezident ty moy*." He motions for you to come over and allows you to sit down and lean against his shoulder, adjusting you so, that his face stays out of your sight. You press yourself against his side, enjoying the unexpected but warm gesture. Who knows, if there ever will be one more time, when you can feel his soft human nature?
But soon his body tenses, his hand, almost covering your shoulders, retreats.
"We don't do this stuff in Russia." Nikto gestures up, and you don't get it right away, what does he mean. But then you see, what exactly he noticed, and curse under your breath. You absolutely forgot a branch of dry eucalyptus that you hung from the ceiling of your room so that it always smells nice.
"No-no-no, Nikto! It's not, what you think, I never meant to-"
"Good thing, of course, you didn't." He jerks away and reaches for his mask. And at this moment a strange, almost crazy idea appears in your head.
"Nikto? How do you do it in Russia?" He freezes with a mask in his hands, his eyes piercing you, as if he tries to read you mind.
"...how we do what?"
"How you... steal a kiss to find out if you have chances? We have this silly thing with a mistletoe. And how do you guys do that?"
He seems to stop breathing. You see his intense gray-blue eyes, studying you, as if this was the first time, he ever saw you. What you make out are his features right now as Nikto hides his face beneath the shadow of his mask.
"We ask. Sometimes, just go for it. There is one tradition, that can be potentially used for this purpose, but..."
"Show me!" Words leave your mouth sooner than you manage to fully understand, what you are asking for.
He hesitates, looking at you, then at the candles. Then he tears off a piece of paper laid out on the floor and divides it in half. Nikto hands one half to you.
“Here you need to write your deepest wish. Don't show it to anyone.” Your wish fits into one short word. He does the same with his piece of paper and surprisingly his wish also looks short.
“Now you need to burn the wish over your glass, so that the ashes fall into the champagne.”
You do as he tells, watching ashes falling into a cup of tea, while he lights up his piece with the nearest candle.
"Now you drink. And then you must kiss somebody, otherwise, the wish never comes true." His voice is barely audible, as if Nikto talks to himself. You drink your tea, not paying attention to the smoky burnt paper taste. When you move closer to him - he doesn't pull you away. But as your face leans closer to his, he sighs apologetically, covers your forehead with his hand and presses his lips against it.
It's not even a kiss, but the strangest caress, you've ever felt. Niktos breath smells of ash and a tangerine, he was eating previously. A celebration, with a drop of sorrow. A happiest moment, that is never allowed. A feast in the middle of a battleground. That's him - that is Nikto.
"Prazdnik moy...*" He whispers and stays like this for a few moments. But then he stands up and disappears behind the door of your room with a quite "I'm sorry."
At the bottom of his mug there is still a piece of unburned paper. Two barely readable letters: "o" and "u" are still there. And if you ever notice them - you will understand, that you two share a wish.
*skatert` (here and next Russian) - a table cloth
*S novym godom - Happy New Year
*Sadis`, nauchu tebya, kak pravil`no - come sit here, I’ll teach you how to do it right
*Idi syuda, prezident ty moy - come here, my president
*Prazdnik moy - my holiday (used as a pet name here. rare one, but possible)
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fnny-bnny · 10 months
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Pervy gromsko? Please? I’m sorry I have no ideas. But I know that man would be down Bad for reader.
perv!gromsko getting a little too handsy when you visit him about some pain in your shoulder, purposefully brushing against your breasts with the back of his hand so your nipples get hard
perv!gromsko videoing his sparring sessions with you "so he can see where he needs improvement" but really it's his personal jerk-off material
perv!gromsko pushing his body against yours whenever he sits next to you, one arm slung around you because he insists that there's just not enough room next to him (even if the seat next to him is literally empty)
perv!gromsko allowing you and only you to call him Sobi, both so that you feel special and so that he can use the memory for jerk-off material when he's off-duty
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cepsil · 5 months
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