#rodolfo parra
captain-mj · 1 day
Vampire Part 3
Gaz was wrong and Soap gets a lot of attention
After Alex left, the night slowed down considerably. He noticed Ghost acting odd though. Constantly picking at his mask or his gloves like something was bothering him. He tried to talk to him, but someone would need someone and he’d be dragged away. 
Price disappeared, apparently going to woo his ex wife? Who was also Phil the neighbor? Soap was confused by it, but he decided it wasn’t his business. Cleaning up the pounds of wolf hair was keeping him busy enough. Alejandro asked him for the fancy candles that smell nice and Soap ended up having to go to the store to get a new one because none of them could just agree on one of the scents they had at home. 
Somehow, for the first morning in ages, Ghost went to bed without Soap. He didn’t realize until Alejandro was pulling Rudy to their coffin to sleep and he saw that the sun was coming up. Soap still checked the coffin, just in case Ghost hadn’t realized somehow. Sure enough, he was already sleep. He had stripped out of several of his layers and Soap noticed some scratches on his wrists like he had been itching himself. It was odd. Soap wondered if something happened that he missed. Something that would make his Ghost anxious. 
“Ah! Sorry sir! I wanted to check on you and make sure you were asleep.” 
Ghost opened his eyes to look at him. “Johnny… Your scar. We didn’t get to talk.” 
Soap smiled and perked up. “Want me to tell you now?”
Ghost nodded. “Like those things… the things…”
“Bedtime stories?”
“Precisely.” Ghost purred, a rumble deep in his throat. He closed his eyes again, but he was still breathing so Soap knew he was awake. 
Soap pulled up a seat and double checked the curtains before starting. “I grew up with three older sisters.”
“You act like a youngest sibling.” 
Soap paused. “You say that like you know.”
“I had a younger brother once.” Ghost opened his eyes just a little. “And I’ve known plenty. You act like one.” 
“Ah.” Soap tilted his head. “But I grew up with three of them and a Catholic dad.”
“One day, one of them challenged me to climb to the top of the steeple.”
Ghost’s eyes opened fully as he stared, clearly interested now.
“So I did. I waited until everyone was inside, told my Dad I needed to use the bathroom and climbed to the very top. Took ages, but I managed.”
“And then?”
“Went down and went back inside. Told my sisters. And none of them believed me. So when church let out, I did it again. Right in front of the congregation.”
“Whole flock?”
“Whole flock indeed. My dad was so mad. My mom was so embarrassed. My sisters were all giggling like mad men though. Turns out they apparently did it all the time and wanted to see if I could figure it out.”
“What does this story have to do with your scar?”
“Well, my dad started yelling at me to get down right that minute. I got scared and lost my footing. Slammed down onto the pavement. Broke my foot and scratched up my face.” 
Ghost narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying to me.”
“No I’m not!” Soap laughed.
“No. The story is true. But you’re lying. That’s not how you scratched up your face.” 
Soap stopped laughing. While yes, Ghost was right. He didn’t expect to be called out on it. “Do you always know when I’m lying? That a vampire thing?”
“No. It’s a Ghost and Soap thing. I can tell when you lie. And you lied to me. Why?”
Soap faltered even more. He knew the answer, but he didn’t want to say. “The church thing is the reason I got the scar. You’re right it wasn’t the direct result, but it was the reason.”
“And you don’t want to tell me what actually happened?”
“No, sir.” 
Ghost nodded. “That’s okay… Do you have any more stories?”
Soap was a bit surprised, but he thought of his childhood. “Yeah. One time, my dad decided we should get chickens.” 
“Chickens! For eggs!” Soap continued the story, ignoring that his eyes were starting to droop. Ghost eventually stopped breathing, as still as the grave, so he forced himself up. He blew out the candles and started to clean. 
“Hey.” He recognized the American accent right away.
Soap turned around. “Alex right?”
The tall werewolf smiled at him. Luckily completely clothed. “Yep! Gaz turned in early, apparently he accidentally fed on someone who’s mom died so he wasn’t feeling well. Did you need help?”
Soap paused and thought about it. It was already 10. It would take him ages to clean up by himself. “Yeah, that sounds nice.” 
Alex perked up and started helping. He listened to everything Soap said and they got it done in record timing. 
Soap yawned. “I think I’m… gonna head to bed.” 
Alex nodded. “Hey, I was curious.”
Oh no.
“There’s a few hate groups around here. Why have you never had the vamps eat those?”
Soap shrugged. “They’re not garbage disposals.”
“Gaz told me about your Tinder. And Craig’s list. I know that’s not completely true.”
“I’m Scottish.” Soap admitted with a groan. “Lot of them don’t like me either. Or they can tell I’m gay.”
Alex nodded. “I’m American. And straight passing. You ever want to lure them in with my help… I’d be happy to.” He smiled and Soap noticed how sharp his teeth were. 
Soap just nodded. “I’ll think about it…”
Alex smiled but he was clearly thinking about something. It made Soap nervous.
“Might want to spray Febreze or something! Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.” He turned around and left. 
What a weird fucking guy… 
Soap got up and woke Ghost up like every sunset. “Sleep well Ghost?”
Ghost sat up slowly and stretched instead of answering. He shook his head like he was trying to dislodge water out of them. 
“You alright, sir?”
Ghost touched the sides of his head, pressing his palm down over where his ears would be. “Yeah… I’m fine…” He didn’t take Soap’s hand. 
Soap frowned and gently touched his shoulder. “Ghost, are you sure you’re okay? Is it one of your bad days?”
Ghost looked at Soap, sniffing. For a moment, he feared the worst. That Alex’s scent was still stuck to his clothing. But just as quickly, he moved on. “‘M not hungry. Just uh… Make sure everyone else is fed. And then can we watch that show you showed me? With the blond lady?”
“Buffy the Vampire slayer?”
“Yes. I like the way she fights. Reminds me of the warriors I died with.” He shuffled forward, still seeming a bit off. Soap arranged for three people under the guise of a party to arrive and then set up the TV. Ghost sat right next to him, almost touching him. Both of them refused to lean into the other, so they stayed at a sort of stalemate. Normally that is. 
Ghost leaned into his shoulder, leeching the warmth out of him. 
Soap froze, not used to this. He moved just a little and Ghost started to pull away, so he gently tugged him back. It was… cozy. Even if Soap felt cold. He must’ve shivered because Ghost grabbed a blanket and then pulled him closer so he was leaning into his chest. The situation actually made him more cold, but Soap didn’t want to tell him that he was the problem. Eventually, he did start to warm up, answering one of questions at least. Ghost can be heated up. 
Soap imagined Ghost in a little cup in the microwave and bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the idea. Ghost watched Buffy, always looking excited when she came on. Now that he was so close, Soap could also feel the twitches in his muscles when she fought, as if he wanted to leap into battle with him. 
Soap knew of course that Ghost had been a warrior. Apparently, a very prestigious one. But it just… didn’t fit with the Ghost he had in his head. The man was dangerous, honestly he was the scariest of people in the house on first glance. But once he got to know them, Ghost didn’t really seem that scary. It was hard for him to see him fighting through hoards of people, all while human. To imagine him ripping others to shreds with his sword instead of one person at a time with his teeth. 
“Ghost. Can I ask you a question? Since you asked me questions earlier?”
Ghost shrugged. “Won’t promise I’ll answer, but sure.”
“What were you like as a human?”
Ghost sighed. “Better.”
Soap didn’t like that answer very much. “I like how you are now.”
“I was… different. Promise not to judge me too harshly? I know rules have changed.”
Soap didn’t really understand but he agreed.
“I had many wives. Using wife gender neutrally. Some were men, some were women, some were neither.”
“You had a harem??”
“Guess so? I don’t know. I had many though. I was also born during the warm period, so food was abundant. I never dealt with a famine while alive. Only heard of them distantly. My job was a conqueror. Bringing new lands back to my King. Met a few Scottish people in my day, though they only spoke Gaelic.” His hand came up, touching Soap’s face. Tracing the lines of his facial hair and then his lips. “Nice people. Food was good.”
Soap couldn’t breath. “Any of your wives…”
“A few.” Ghost looked guilty. “I never hurt them. Not physically. Never mistreated any of them. Lots of men in my time did. My country was not the best of women, but I… I never…” 
“I believe you. Don’t worry.” Soap smiled. Because he did. Ghost would never.
“Johnny. You’re too good. Why do you want this?”
It sounded an awful lot like why do you want me. 
“I want to be a vampire because…” Soap hesitated. “I…”
Ghost shook his head. “You deserve better.” 
“But I want this. You promised.” Soap grabbed his shirt hard, feeling Ghost tense. 
“I did. And I’ll make good on it.” Ghost made eye contact with him and it burned. It bubbled and singed and Soap wanted to kiss him. Wanted to mouth at the fabric. Wanted to feel his hands on him. 
For a moment, just one, Ghost looked like he intended to do that. His hands grabbed him hard and pulled him closer. 
Ghost turned away when he heard Alejandro’s screams. He laughed and scooped Soap up before dropping him back on the couch. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Soap wished Rodolfo hadn’t reattached Alejandro’s head. 
The window opened and a lady slid in. “Hey! Are you the familiar?” She was clearly not a vampire since she just fucking waltzed in. 
Soap went to yell but she quickly put her hands up. “Wait! Wait!! Please, don’t get them just yet. Alex is keeping them all distracted.”
Soap frowned but quieted down. She was tall, about his height and looked to be from the middle east. She was really pretty. 
“I need your help. Badly.”
Soap frowned. “How could I help you?”
“I have a friend who’s been forced to be a familiar.”
“Oh, a thrall?”
She paused. “A thrall??”
“Yes. A person forced to service a vampire. It’s a whole thing. Anyway, she’s a thrall I guess. And I need your help to free her, you know, since you’re pro familiar rights?”
Soap frowned. “I mean… I’m pro equal rights, but I wouldn’t say I’m really out there advocating for familiars specifically.”
“But the bats treat you so well??” 
Soap wanted to know what vampires were being so cruel that this was considered top tier treatment. “Let’s ignore that. Look, I can talk to Ghost so we ca-”
“No! This is why I came to you directly. I only want to talk to you about this. I don’t trust them.” 
Soap saw her teeth. Sharp back teeth, longer canines. “You’re a werewolf?”
“Is your friend a werewolf?”
“No. She’s human.” 
“And your name is?”
“Farah! Very nice to meet you by the way. Sorry I had to barge in like this, but its a life or death scenario. Tomorrow morning, can you meet me at our pack house?”
“Tomorrow morning meaning in a few hours or like… actually tomorrow morning?”
Farah gave him an unimpressed stare.
“It’s an important distinction!! I’ve had this problem before.” Soap explained. 
“Actually tomorrow morning.”
“Thank God, I had stuff I needed to do.”
Farah twitched. “Please just… meet me.”
“Will do!” 
She looked up and suddenly threw herself back out the window. Ghost came back in and saw him. “There you are. You okay?” He crossed the room and quickly touched him. It was clinical, clearly just wanting to make sure he’s okay. 
“I’m fine. Don’t worry. Did you get him out of here?”
“I did. Let’s watch more later.”
Soap smiled. “I’ll leave it where it is.” He frowned as soon as Ghost turned around, noticing him scratching at his ears again. How odd. He hoped he was okay. 
Soap checked on Price to see how he was doing. Only to see him at the fence, talking to the neighbor. He sidled up. “Oh, hey Graves.”
“Hey Soap! Didn’t tell me you guys had family visiting.” He smiled and kept glancing at Price with something close to suspicion. Soap chanced a look at Price, surprised to find him so… calm. Smiling expertly to hide the teeth. 
“Soap also didn’t tell me how cute the neighbors are.”
Graves blushed. “British. Like your accent.”
“I’m sure it would sound much better betwe-”
Soap took his cross necklace out under the guise of fiddling with it. Price ended what he was saying with a wheeze, clearly trying to not make his disdain noticeable. 
Soap smiled. “Nice to see you again. I’ll be sure to keep an eye on him.”
Graves just nodded and looked at Price again before leaving. He glanced back at Price before going back in the house. 
“You bastard.”
“Don’t sexually harass my neighbors.”
Price hissed at him and left angrily. 
Soap cleaned the bodies out of the basement and stretched. Thanks to Alex’s help, there was no other cleaning to do. Ghost would probably be in his room. 
He was not. There was however some noise in one of the spare rooms. 
Soap was stupid enough to look inside said room.  
Alejandro had Ghost against the wall. The two of them chest to chest. They were touching all over each other and half of their clothes were strewn about. 
Made sense. Alejandro and Rodolfo in an open relationship. Vampires were needy creatures. 
Ghost groaned and nuzzled into Alejandro’s throat. Alejandro’s hands tightened on his hips to pull him closer. 
Very needy.
Soap still felt… slightly hurt. He wasn’t sure why though. Because Ghost was with someone else? That was… stupid. 
Ghost’s hand sped up and Alejandro spoke to him, right in his ear so Soap couldn’t hear him. Ghost tensed up and pressed tighter to Alejandro, his grip would probably bruise. Soap could faintly hear them both panting, the fake need to breath coming out. 
“There ya go, Simon. Feel better.” Alejandro teased, forcing his head back as he mouthed at his throat. 
“Go fuck yourself.”
“There you are. I knew you were just in a bad mood. Just need to a pick me up.” Alejandro purred and pressed him back against the wall. He continued rutting into Ghost’s hand as he lifted the fabric to properly bite his throat. Then, he slid it further up to kiss him properly. 
Ghost’s free hand slid up into his hair, combing through him before he whimpered, shaking as he came. Alejandro followed right after, sinking his teeth into Ghost’s flesh. Ghost snarled at him for that and yanked him back. 
“Sorry, sorry. You taste nice.”
“I taste foul. Like all vampires do. Now get out of here.”
Alejandro licked at the mess on his hand and Soap quickly backed off. If he got caught, that would… 
Would it be bad? Probably not honestly. Maybe for Ghost. To be seen like that without his consent… 
It just not hit Soap what he had done. He watched his housemates fuck. Or at least jerk each other off. Like a perv!! He watched them like a perv!!
Soap quickly left as quickly as possible, all but fleeing the situation. This was awful. Terrible. Disgusting. He grabbed his cross necklace and tried to figure out how he was supposed to look Ghost in the eye later when he put him to bed. 
Difficult was the fucking answer. Ghost was in a much better mood than earlier and Soap knew why. It drove him crazy. 
If Alex hadn’t interrupted, would that have been him? Maybe Ghost would’ve kissed him? Even if it was just a need based thing, it would’ve happened. 
He left the room in a daze. 
“Say a word about that to anyone and I’ll kill you.” 
Soap jumped out of his skin before whirling around to look at Alejandro in the shadow of the hallway. He looked menacing, something he very seldom did.
“I didn’t mean to watch okay? And I promise I’d never want to get you in trouble with Rodolfo.”
Alejandro sighed. “Rodolfo is well aware of what I do. I’d never go behind my husband’s back for anything. As much as I enjoy Ghost, not even he’s worth that. I’ll kill you because Ghost will be upset. He let his guard down and I let you watch.”
“Let me?”
“You think I didn’t smell you? The cologne you wear because you think it covers up the scent of decay from the bodies, the savory scent of your blood and skin. Not to mention your heartbeat. It sped up when I lifted the mask. Did even more when I kissed him. I know it wasn’t me that had you like that.” Alejandro smiled a little and Soap’s heart sped up. His fangs were bloody. “I’m sorry.”
Alejandro kept staring at him before moving closer. Soap backed up instinctively. Rodolfo didn’t scare him quite as much. They had slept together a few times. Hard to find him scary. Ghost wasn’t scary. Never really had been. 
But Alejandro? Alejandro still scared him. He got closer until they were pressed to the wall like he had Ghost earlier. “Do you want to know what it felt like?”
“What what felt like?”
“Kissing him. I can show you.” Alejandro leaned in closer and Soap’s breath caught. 
“I…” Soap couldn’t get enough breath in his lungs to respond. 
Alejandro pulled away. “Tell me if you change your mind.” He grinned. “Sun just rose. I need to get to bed before Rudy notices I’m gone.” 
Soap stood there for a long time, just focusing on his breathing.
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cod-dump · 17 hours
Randomly wanted to ask if you have any drabble ideas or hcs for AleRudy where Rudy is a trans man pre-bottom surgery?
I feel like it could go in so many cute directions and I want to see where you think it could go
Happy that I'm not the only one who sees Rudy as trans
(was going to put that hc in a fic at some point)
Alejandro was in love with Rudy way before he even came out of the closet. He was Rudy's number one supporter throughout it all. Rudy already had a rocky relationship with his parents so when he came out all hell broke loose. Alejandro was there and got into a fist fight with Rudy's father before he took Rudy to stay with him.
Rudy of course had his doubts about everything, fearing for the future. Alejandro was there for him through it all, thick and thin. Alejandro's constant support is part of what led to Rudy falling for him. Alejandro has always been there for Rudy, so Rudy decided to always be there for Alejandro.
When Rudy got top surgery, Alejandro made a comment that he had never seen Rudy smile so broadly before and that he looked very handsome. Rudy fell harder for him after that.
Finally, after drunken night, Rudy confessed to Alejandro, who immediately reciprocated his feelings. Only after Alejandro threatening to fight a man flirting with him did Rudy finally see that Alejandro cared about him just as much as Rudy did for him. They had been together ever since.
Though Alejandro keeps the flirting down and their relationship is pretty much a secret (all to protect Rudy), Rudy couldn't be happier.
One morning he had awoken with a ring on his finger. And then almost murdered Alejandro for deciding to propose when they both were drunk off their asses.
(this plays into a fic in my drafts)
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adastrael · 3 days
Cod: mw ii characters and things they collect (pt.2)
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Character(s): alejandro vargas, rodolfo "rudy" parra, valeria garza, kim "horangi" hong-jin, könig
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: mentions of gambling and anxiety
A/N: the second chapter is finally here! Hope you enjoy, as usual, don't be too afraid to share your thoughts :D
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Alejandro Vargas
Alejandro is a sentimental man without a doubt, someone who likes to remember as much as he can from his past — be it the good or bad. A habit he has learned from his father when he was younger was purchasing a postcard and a coin or bill of the local currency whenever they visited foreign countries. It didn't happen often unfortunately, so this goal was a little difficult to accomplish, but with the years spent in the military and now as a Colonel, he gets more opportunities to visit places he has never been before. To this day, he still gets a card from every new city he goes to as a memory that he was there once.
Some things that tie back into his sentimental nature are the photographs he keeps. There is a box in his office back at home, heavy from all the pictures he has stacked into the available space. Some of them are very old, paper faded and jagged, but the people on them are still recognizable. These are from his younger years, a few go back even as far in time where he only just started hanging out with Rodolfo. Others are still shiny and new, a few even have that fresh scent the paper acquires when the picture is made. These are mostly of the team, 141 and other seemingly random sights Alejandro felt worthy enough to capture (this man is a sucker for sunsets, you can't change my mind).
Alejandro has a few keychains he has received during the years, mostly from distant relatives or members of Los Vaqueros. The key to his front door contains 90% of them, although he doesn't like when there are too many weights next to such important objects. His favorite is undeniably the little cowboy hat they bought together with Rudy once, just after Los Vaqueros became an official thing. It never fails to make him smile, and he has a saying that goes along the lines of "As long as I have this, Los Vaqueros will be a thing."
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Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra
As a kid, Rodolfo was always looking for little trinkets to keep. From seashells, rocks, feathers and pretty leaves, if something caught his attention, it was going home with him in his pocket. His favorites were undeniably rocks though; there are still quite a lot of them he has kept from all the years and refuses to get rid of for one reason or another. As Alejandro teased him before, Rudy is like a crow in this regard — although it's not shiny things he collects, just rocks he finds fitting to join his heap.
Something that has always fascinated him was lego sets. As a kid he didn't have the chance to own any, but now that he has a healthy paycheck, nothing is stopping him from purchasing different sets for his own birthday and similar occasions. The model he loves the most is probably the Great Pyramid of Giza, which he built in a single afternoon when he was on medical leave once. Although most of them don't have enough space in his house, his favorite ones are displayed somewhere: either on his office table, or on a shelf in one of the rooms.
There is a habit he couldn't stop ever since he was little, but didn't really want to either to be fair. Like most kids, Rodolfo enjoyed getting stickers and sticking them somewhere he found fit, even when someone told him no. As he grew older, he didn't want to waste them anymore, knowing he wouldn't be able to make use of them again once you plastered them on a surface. That was the start of his collection — ever since, he doesn't like the idea of putting them anywhere, only collecting all the stickers he gets in one big folder. He gets way too emotionally attached to most of them and he knows, but Rodolfo tries his best. Besides, we all need something to be passionate about besides work, don't we?
Plus fun fact: Rudy often gifts his friends and family stickers. At first, most found it confusing and unnecessary, but now everyone just finds it adorable and thanks him earnestly when they receive any. It's an ongoing joke between the Vaqueros that you will know the Sergeant Major likes you if he gives you stickers. Not to mention, they consider you family and part of the team once you receive any. It's really great.
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Valeria Garza
It's no secret that Valeria enjoys painting her nails; the brighter and more feminine, the better. During the years, she unintentionally started collecting nail polishes as one does: if she saw a color she liked, it was bought with little to no hesitation, no matter how many bottles she already had at home. Valeria makes good use of all of them though, her nails are always nicely done and the colors change almost week after week.
Valeria couldn't deny her love for house plants even if she tried. She would never let her men see the plant mom side of her, but Alejandro and Rodolfo had the chance to witness her home. The living room is filled with greens: different, often hand painted vases on the shelves, tall houseplants in front of the big windows and even some vine-like plants curling over her walls. She makes sure not to overdo them, but every room that isn't her bedroom has at least one little flower.
Something that understandably makes her even more intimidating is her enthusiasm for swords. Don't get the wrong idea, she can't handle one and isn't overly tempted to learn either, but she loves their beauty all the same. One of the rooms in her house is kind of like a calming area, her favorite plants, furniture and pictures all gathered in the same place. Above the door, there is a hanger with a sword replica on top of it, but it's only noticeable when you actually look for it. If she could, Valeria would buy a few real ones, but she doesn't see the need for them, above the fact that they look good and bring her some joy. In the future, she just might learn their tricks however.
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Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin
It might be ironic considering his unlucky history with gambling, but Horangi likes to collect special and unique looking game tokens. Under this category he will never consider the non-physical ones like crypto and such, in-game ones are those he loves, the ones that are actually collectable. It's no surprise that poker tokens are his favorite to look for, there are even one or two custom made ones he has gotten as a gift from friends (König and other KorTac members). He won't ever consider getting back into gambling because he has learned his lesson, but it doesn't hurt to collect unique items related to the hobby.
Another thing that keeps him connected to games are cards. Sure, he's especially awful at card games, but there are a few decks that caught his eye during the years and just couldn't resist to leave. One of his biggest prizes is a deck with completely black cards that glow in the dark, and the numbers and designs are only visible then.
Call him a poser, but Horangi loves sunglasses. Of course, during missions he can't always wear them, but around base and usually even at home, there is one hiding his eyes from curious looks. It became a comfort thing very quickly for him, so the reason why he wears them everywhere isn't purely fashion motivated (honestly, none at all, only just when he is out as a civilian). Horangi doesn't own that many pairs, maybe around six or seven, and like three of them are regular black ones, but the rest are different; they help him blend in, not to mention that a few of them match his everyday clothes and just spice his outfits up a little.
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As a kid, König loved reading comic books, especially if they were superhero ones. It isn't necessary to say he collected them, but the amount of stacks he used to have in his room would surely qualify as such. Financially, he wasn't much to deal with as a kid; he ate a lot, sure, and new clothes were constantly needed because of his fast growth, but he never asked for anything from his parents, only new comic books to read through. Most of them are still hidden somewhere in his childhood room, and one day he's sure to read them all over again when he has the time.
Another habit he started as a kid and somehow never really grew out of is collecting dinosaur figures. Don't think about the big ones people usually put on shelves as decoration, König was always enthusiastic about the small ones that came in packages, multiple dinos in one. He used to have a dinosaur phase back in grade school, and if you ask him about a species, he can probably still ramble about the topic for hours to no end.
Something that might seem a little strange to others, but is totally usual for him is the pocket sized magnets he carries with himself. König generally fidgets a lot, either from anxiety or just absently while thinking or doing something else, and magnets are easy and satisfying to connect and pull apart. The fact that he likes the noise doesn't hurt either, it usually helps him focus on the task at hand.
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aoiro03 · 2 days
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deadbranch · 15 hours
The Dying Sun:  The Road to Reynosa (Part I)
Author: @deadbranch
Pairing: Rodolfo Parra x fem!OC (3rd person)
Summary:  Prequel to The Killing Moon (TKM) series.  Alejandro notices a growing problem with the protagonist; he doesn't want Rodolfo to be caught in the crossfire.
Word Count:  3.9k
Warnings:  18+ MDNI, SMUT***, suggestive content, grief, mention of blood/gore, canon-typical violence, tobacco use, fluff, pining, angst with a capital A, flirting, language you wouldn’t use in polite company, protagonist is an American officer from Texas
A/N:   Various POV’s but mostly that of the protagonist.  This chapter spans 4 years to 2 years prior to the events of TKM.  Protagonist is 23-25 spanning the events from Ghost’s death through when Vargas decides to mentor her.  Alejandro is 33-35, Rodolfo is 22-24.  Soap doesn’t show up until the next part.
Previous A/N:  Feedback is appreciated.  I try to avoid overlap with canon events. Thoughts are bolded and italicized.  Flashbacks are italicized large sections of text, not bolded.  Dialog in Spanish is written as English bracketed with “<” and “>”.
***Elaboration on smut content:  Descriptions of female & male anatomy, vague/poetic descriptions of p in v sex, unprotected sex.  Please notify @deadbranch if you believe more warnings should be added.
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[Year 1 under contract with Vargas, 4 years prior to events of The Killing Moon]
“<You should eat dinner, turn in for the night.>” Colonel Vargas’s voice crackles across her comm.
Sirena shifts her pelvis and stretches her legs, her physical body long forgotten during her sustained focus on the objective.  Her cheek has the indentation of her rifle stock, her vision blurry as she pulls herself away from her scope.
She feels the light bending toward her, the telltale buzzing electricity moving over her skin, her vision beginning to tunnel.
Control the fade.  Accept your circumstances.  Accept the rules.  Accept your purpose.  Control the light.
The words make her eyes sting as she rubs her temples.  She can’t bring herself to say them without pain, profound and acidic, her lungs seeming to fill with tears and choked air.  Not since Ghost…
The leaves are green and the feather’s gray.
She repeats the words Vicarious gave her in the dark.  Her vision slowly begins to normalize, the buzzing electric current dissipating into the quickly cooling evening air.
“<Yeah.  Vargas.  The target’s been holed up for the last five hours.  He’ll come out sometime, and when he does…”>
“<No.  Go eat.  He likely fucked that new whore of his and he’s sleeping it off as we speak.  Rodolfo will cover the objective until midnight, then Catalina will take over until dawn.  Get some rest.>”
She doesn’t reply as she continues to rub her temples.
“<Yes, sir.>”
Sirena rolls onto her back, leaving her rifle leaning on its bipod.  Dinner consists of canteen water and the other half of her MRE.
The leaves are green and the feather’s gray.
“<Sirena...>” Rodolfo’s voice fills her ear and would’ve startled her were it not for the preamble of static when he reopened their private channel.
“<What?>” Her response comes out more sharply than she’d intended.  His hesitant silence reminds her that he’s likely weighing his next words carefully.  Initially intimidated by her when she arrived at the Nogales airstrip, Rodolfo very quickly became fond of her, and she of him.
Her insistence upon wearing the skull balaclava didn’t deter him from seeking her out between missions, during their off-hours at Las Almas.  He’s one of the few who’ve seen her without it.
“<I miss you.>” He states plainly.  She sighs deeply before pressing her PTT button.
“<You don’t know me.  Stay focused.>” She lets go of the button and continues eating.
Covering an objective in El Paso from a rooftop in Juarez has its advantages.  There’s a comfortable distance between Sirena and the target.  Between Sorceress and the memories of Ghost.
She’ll never be Sorceress again.  She died when Ghost drew his last breath.
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[Year 2]
“<Dinner’s ready.  You should join us.>”
Vargas watches Sirena as her shoulders tense.  She’s been staring at the northern horizon as the sun sets to her left, just as she does every evening she spends at the villa.  She eats alone in the guest house.
He decides to change tactics.  As he approaches Sirena on her right side, she turns to face him.  The setting sun creates a corona of light around her shadowed figure.
She removes the balaclava, her recently shorn scalp revealing a collection of scars that shine in the waning light.  Alejandro suppresses a wince as he considers her past.  A great deal has happened since he met Sirena in Division’s deep tank, and even then he held fear in his heart for the deal he was making with the most dangerous organization in human history.
A deal with the devil, for the services of an angel called Venganza.
“<Sirena,>” he begins slowly, the curiosity in the back of his mind creeping to the forefront as he ponders how events could have happened very differently.  “<Why did you agree to come here?  Your contract dissolved when Archangel folded.>”
The snick of a lighter illuminates her face as she lights a cigarette.  Smoke billows softly into the evening breeze as the temperature drops.
“<It was something to do.  And I honor my word.>” She takes a deep drag and exhales through her nostrils.
The bright corona around her fades as the sun sinks below the horizon.  The regal mystique in her features gives way to cold reality.  Sirena’s eyes appear slightly sunken with lack of sleep.  Her previously athletic frame has noticeably atrophied with stress and undernourishment.  She still physically outperforms most of his men, but she looks like she’s two meals away from illness.
“<Please.  Eat with the others.  It may be good for them to see you...>”
“<No,>” she replies abruptly.  When she realizes her tone, she flicks her cigarette away and pulls the balaclava back over her head. “<Thank you, sir, but I’ll be eating alone as I have been.  The men don’t need to see me do anything mortal.  I kill.  That’s all they need to know.>”
Vargas sighs and switches to English.  “This is unnecessary.” He doesn’t need to elaborate for her to know what he means.  She looks at him with the dry boredom of assumed immortality and the exhaustion of an uphill mission.
“You want your enemies to run in fear.  Those who remain to stand against you will die.  They have to believe they cannot win.  And they are a superstitious lot.” Her jaw sets firmly as she crosses her arms over her chest.
He knows she’s right.  Sirena’s eyes glow faintly as starlight begins to illuminate the sand as the final radiance of day retreats behind the ridge demarcating Alejandro’s compound from the surrounding countryside.
“Come inside, please.  It’s getting cold.  We’ve much to discuss before Jueves Santo.”
She nods and follows Vargas across the sandy scrub toward the villa.
The windows seem illuminated with a welcome warmth that speaks to his intentions but reminds him of the inferno awaiting him at the end of the road.
May God forgive me in my final hours, for man does not understand what I’ve done.
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She looks up as she hears a knock at the door.
Rodolfo’s standing in a pool of light on the guest villa veranda, a covered dinner tray in hand.
She sighs and lets him in.  As she closes the door behind him, he shivers as the cold night air that followed wraps around him in the foyer.  He smiles awkwardly and moves around her to the dining room that faces the veranda.
It’s only then that she realizes there are two covered plates on the tray.
Without a word, she retrieves two bottles of mineral water from the kitchen and joins Rodolfo.
He looks different without his usual fatigues, without the equipment.  His hair is combed differently, his face scrubbed clean of the desert grime they’re both covered in daily.  Absently she acknowledges that she must appear differently to him as well.  Scrubbed clean, no balaclava, clothed only in a long-sleeved cotton shirt and jeans.
His eyes briefly cut downward toward her breasts as they move subtly under the fabric.  He’s not accustomed to seeing her without her tactical web.  She knows her nipples are hard, but she’s unsure if the cold air that followed Rodolfo is at fault or if it’s because of…Rodolfo.
“<We should eat.  Before it gets cold.>” His eyes find hers almost reluctantly, the way they did when they first met in Nogales.
“<Why didn’t you drop off the tray?  You could have eaten with the others.>”
Rodolfo seems stung by her words.  “<I didn’t want you to eat alone again.>”
“<Did Vargas send you?>”
She doesn’t regret asking, but his facial expression elicits a pang in her heart.
He repeats himself in English, with slight annoyance.  “I didn’t want you to eat alone…” He startles when she reaches across the table to place her hand over his.
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Rodolfo holds her tightly against him.  His right hand rests against her belly, his left cupping her breast through her thin shirt.   She sighs and tips her head back against him, his lips exploring the side of her neck.  She turns in his arms and grazes her thumbs over the sides of his face as she looks up at him.  He smiles as he gazes back at her.
“<May I call you Luz?>” He asks in a voice that reminds her of the breeze when she’s in the wilderness, when it’s all that moves and the only sound for miles.  Her only company and her only witness if she fails to return.
“<Why that name?>” she asks as she watches his mouth move.
“<Because when I look at you, you’re the sun.  Sunlight.  If I stare at you too long, like the sun, it hurts.  But I need you.  I need you, Luz.>”
He blushes.  “<I know that’s awkward sounding.  I’m sorry.  I can’t continue calling you Sirena.  That’s not you…you are not La Sirena of legend.  You are not my doom…>”
She pulls him in for a kiss.  He yields as though he’d been waiting for her to take control.  When she pulls back, he breathes unevenly as she strokes his jawline.
“<You may call me anything you wish.  As long as you always look at me the way you are now.>” She smiles gently, her eyes tracing his features as though memorizing them.
“<Like how…?>” He seems almost bashful as he looks down between them before focusing on her mouth.
“<Like you love what you see.>”
His breath catches in his throat as though he’s been found out.
“<I didn’t think you’d notice.>” He smiles self-consciously.
“<You deserve better than me.  But yes…your adoring gaze is difficult to miss.>” She smiles subtly as she her fingers play with the top button of his shirt.
“<I’m sorry…if I’ve made you uncomfortable.  And this is so very unprofessional, I know…>” he rambles before she interrupts.
“<We’re out of uniform, and it’s after hours.  So…let’s do things that people do…when they’re out of uniform.>”
His eyes widen as she takes him by the hand into the bedroom.  She walks backward, watching his expression change as he both eagerly and reluctantly follows her into the warm light of the room in which she normally sleeps.  He blushes again.
She asks him why he’s blushing.  He doesn’t reply, but instead holds her face gently in his hands as he kisses her against the foot of the bed.  Rodolfo whispers that he’s dreamt of this for a long time.
“<I thought that I scared you in Nogales,>” she gasps between kisses.
“<You did.  You still do.>” Rodolfo smiles nervously as he unbuttons his shirt, his hips still pinning her to the bed as she pulls her own shirt over her head.  Rodolfo's shirt joins hers on the floor.
She gasps as she sees that he’s covered in tattoos.  His chest, abdomen, upper arms, all of it.  He laughs shyly as he backs up so he can turn to reveal his back, also covered in ink.
“<I never would have guessed…>” She muses aloud, reaching out to touch the gorgeous tangle of roses running down the length of his back to the right of his spine.  “<Was this for a woman you love?>”
“<Women.  Each rose is for one of the women in my family.>” Rodolfo turns to face her.  He points to the tattoo over his heart.  “<This is the most recent work.>”
She tilts her head as she gazes at perhaps the most beautiful representation of the sun she’s ever seen.  “<It’s beautiful.  When did you get it?>”
He blushes again, appearing as though embarrassed.  His body language changes as he takes a seat next to her on the bed, his hands clasped as he leans his elbows on his knees.
Luz turns to face him, her palm against his jaw.  “<Look at me.  Please.>”
He straightens and turns to look at her as she scoots closer, her shin pressed against the outside of his thigh.
“<I got it a few weeks ago.  Two days after…you saved me at Piedras Negras.>” His voice sounds small and regretful at the end.  It breaks her heart.
“<Come here.>” She wraps her arms around him, the side of his face against her beating heart.  His arms find their way around her as his fingers rest between the indentations of her ribs.
“<Luz…>” He leans back and looks at her carefully and with startled concern.  “<…you need to eat more.  Hey, hey.  Look at me.  You need to eat at every meal.  If you’re not sick now, you will be soon.>”
She sighs, her face going blank.  “<Are you sure the colonel didn’t send you?>”
Rodolfo huffs out a guilty laugh.  Before they realize it, they’re both giggling, their hands tentatively touching each other.  As their laughter and smiles fade, his hands touch her gently, reverently.  His thumbs brush over her nipples.  She gasps and closes her eyes as she arches into his touch.
“<We…don’t have to do anything…>” His fingers linger against her belly before he lets his hand drop to the blanket beneath them.
“<I know.  But I want to.>”
After the words leave her lips, Rodolfo claims her mouth with his.  He pulls her onto his lap, months of longing flowing through his veins and into every press of his lips against hers.  He gasps when she opens her mouth and eagerly accepts the touch of his tongue.
Fingers fumble at waistbands and zippers as they remove their remaining garments.  Rodolfo blushes as he mutters against her skin, asking if there’s a chance he could get her pregnant.  She assures him that he can’t, that the CIA made their archangel unable to conceive.
A mix of relief and sadness swirls in the depths behind his eyes.  It’s not lost on her that he’s the first man she’s been with to seem concerned about conception, regardless of the circumstances for which he may have hoped.
She crawls up the length of the bed and lays back against the pillows, inviting him to join her.  Whatever prior doubt he had dissipates as he follows her and settles into the cradle of her pelvis, her thighs flanking him warmly and tightly.
“<I want to just kiss for a while.>” Rodolfo says with a nervous reluctance that causes her to look concerned.  Hurriedly he clarifies, “<I’ve done this before, it’s just that I want to enjoy kissing you before…your mouth can’t reach mine because of my height.>”
Her heart melts as she holds him tightly.  “<We can just kiss.  Here...>” She pushes gently against his chest and convinces him to sit back on his heels.  “<…at least come around to the side, we can kiss…and you can touch me...>”
As he lays next to her and they resume kissing, she guides his hand between her legs and shows him how she likes it.  She undulates her hips against his hand as he struggles to kiss her with any amount of concentration.  He gasps and pulls back long enough to give her an exasperated look.  He resumes kissing her, but not before nipping her bottom lip in reproach as his fingers go to work with almost hostile fervor.
Luz’s cries are muffled as Rodolfo keeps her mouth busy.  Before long, he can’t stand it anymore.
“<May I?”>
He shifts his body over hers and aligns himself with her opening.  His eyes meet hers as though asking for permission one last time.
“<Do it.  Please.”> she blurts out as her thighs tremble around him.
They gasp simultaneously as he surges forward, embedding half his length into her before he holds back, his hips shaking as she clings to his shoulders and places little kisses across his chest, against the brilliant sun above his heart.
She murmurs reassurances against his skin to keep going, to go deeper.  Luz cries out as he hilts her.  He whispers something she can’t quite make out, his eyes shut in a strained expression of restraint and overwhelming sensation.
As he begins a lazily controlled series of thrusts, she looks up at him and moans softly as he smiles down at her through a pleasured haze.
She always thought he was handsome, even beautiful, when she watched him in the field, taking orders from Vargas, his lieutenants, and even her.  The corners of his mouth would always turn up a little when he heard her voice.
After saving him from a frag grenade just outside of Piedras Negras, he hadn’t talked to her for a week.  She didn’t know what to think.  But she shook it off.  He’s just another soldier, like all the rest.
He’d survived her convergence field not long after her arrival in Nogales and became the colonel’s right hand thereafter.
Many nights she dreamt of him.  He admitted to her in passing that he’d dreamt of her, his careless words reaching her ear.  She then discouraged him from using a private channel on comms with her.  He was getting too close.
He asked her real name.
She told him she would sooner go to her own grave than tell him.  His eyes revealed the hurt that her words carved into his skin, his heart.
Sirena told herself this is good.  He should be terrified of her.  But her heart ached all the same.
They stop to kiss every so often as they make love.
Anyone under similar circumstances would have fucked and fucked hard.  Rodolfo says he only knows how to make love, fast or slow, but he doesn’t fuck.
He claims he could never merely fuck someone as unfathomably incredible as his beautiful, gentle Luz.  Her heart melts for the hundredth time tonight as she hears this.
She argues that she’s a killer, a mass murder at that.  He ignores her protests and says she is not what she does.
He’s witnessed the maelstrom enveloping her, carnage surrounding them all as death draws near, but her eyes see all and nothing, and she falls to the ground exhausted after, tears standing in her eyes.
Rodolfo insists she is not what she does, but rather she is the instrument.  An unseen force possesses her and, when it is done with her, she is Luz again.  The light of his life.
He kisses her sweetly and tells her he will never let go.
She parts her legs and opens up to him again as their lovemaking continues.  He hasn’t reached his climax yet, but he says he will eventually.  Until then, he wants to enjoy their time together, in case the last sunrise he sees is tomorrow’s.
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[Year 3]
Do not tread the road to Reynosa, you may not return.
Rodolfo’s thoughts scatter as Colonel Vargas informs him that he knows about his relationship with Sirena.
He had been spending almost every night in the guest villa, sneaking away and lying in her arms until dawn.  This had been going on for almost a year.
“<She is in the land of the dead.  To lie with her is to be in the land of the dead yourself.  Bad things happen to the men she loves.>”
“<I don’t care.  I will do…>”
“<You are to be transferred to the coast. Tonight.>”
Before Rodolfo can protest, Vargas says the words.
“<Don’t tread the road to Reynosa.  I can’t help you if you do.  No one can.>”
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Alejandro speaks to her in English.
In her mind he is neither Vargas nor the colonel when he’s like this, slowly drinking whiskey from a tumbler, listening to old Louie Prima records.  He talks about things he never says in the light of day, nor within earshot of anyone but Sirena.
They’ve had time to get acquainted.  She’s always sensed some level of nervousness from him when they spend time together, but he’s always insisted that they meet at least weekly.
She takes a seat in the leather chair opposite Alejandro, gripping her tumbler out of obligation rather than desire to drink.
“You know you’re not the first.”
“The first what?” she offers, knowing he will likely change the subject if she doesn’t play along.
“The first one of you.  With your power.  La Sirena.  You are not the first.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I knew one, when I was a boy.  She did what you do.  The bad men and women…all gone.  El gobierno killed her.  En la calle como un perro.  They took her body…so we could not even bury her.”
“They won’t kill me, Alejandro.”
“Oh, but they will.  For now, they tolerate you because of who you are killing.  But you kill enough bad men, eventually you scare the wrong men.  They will kill you to protect themselves.  Even I…”
Alejandro stares off into the distance, a hum in the back of his throat as the song transports him to another time and place.  His voice cracks when he finally speaks.
“Sirena… I sent Rodolfo away today.”
The silence consumes her as she contemplates his statement.  “Away?”
“You cannot reach him.  Please don’t try.”
The significance of the please was not lost on her.  Colonel Vargas doesn’t ask, he gives orders.  This is Alejandro asking.  Begging.
“No.  If you love him the way I think you do, you will let him go.”  Alejandro switches to Spanish, his gaze hardening as his eyes meet hers.  “<If the Devil comes to claim you while under my command, I will stand with you against him.  But Rodolfo…no.  He would die for you, but he doesn’t have to.  He can have what we cannot.>”
Her aching heart stops beating in her ears as she accepts what she always knew.  She could never keep Rodolfo.  Someone or something would have removed him from her life.  She’s relieved he’s alive.
The superstitious part of her is thankful he never knew her name.  When she closes her eyes, she sees the radiant sun over his heart, and she swallows hard.
As the silence stretches between them, the turntable stops.  As Sirena stands to flip the record and reset the needle, Alejandro’s voice sounds nostalgic and melancholy at the same time.
“<May I call you Mija?>”
She flips the record.
“<Really?  ‘Mija’?  Vargas, you realize you’re not old enough to be my father,>” she laughs the fragile laugh of the brokenhearted as she moves the needle back into place.
“<Oh, this I know.  But you have my protection. Always.  And…Mija sounds better than what the others call you,>” he smiles kindly as he lifts his glass.  When his gaze returns to the middle distance, visible tears well in his eyes.
She wonders if he has a daughter.  Had a daughter.  She doesn’t have to ask.
Her mouth tastes of blood.  She must have bitten the inside of her cheek sometime after Vargas gave her the news.
Sirena will only be Mija to Vargas.
To the others she is all the names they whisper in the dark as they pray for mercy.
She is everything that lights the world against the evil of man.
She is all that will remain once this war is over.
She will stand over the bodies of Division and Control Prime, her boot crushing the neck of Vicarious, and her heart beating with the thunderous rage of the thousands who have died at her feet.
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quozacheese · 5 months
been drawing lots of smooching
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sleepyconfusedpotato · 7 months
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💀 What If Ghost Couldn't Take a Joke? 💀
Pray for our boy Rudy 😔🙏
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HELLLOOOOO 🔥🔥 do you know that tiktok trend right now where it’s like “when I tell you to sit on my face, don’t just put 10% of your body weight down, fucking sit on it. Sit like a chair. Don’t ask if I can breathe just sit down.” Yeah can I request like 141 and los vaqueros just begging their fem s/o to sit on their face but she’s really insecure and they don’t care they are literally on their knees begging to just taste her 😫.
141 + LV & König Begging Fem! Reader To Sit On Their Face
Warnings: pure smut, smut without plot, oral f receiving, swearing
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Simon Ghost Riley-
"Y/N, you won't hurt me, sit." Simon knew you like the back of his hand. He knew you were scared to hurt him, but he couldn't give a damn less. He wanted to be suffocated by your pussy, and refused to take no for an answer.
"But Simon-." You started, but he cut you off.
"But nothing. I asked you to come and sit on my face, and I expect that you'll come do it."
Your thighs squeezed together at his words, desperate to relieve some of the tension that was building in your lower regions.
He grabbed the flesh of your thighs as you slowly made your way up the length of his body and pulled your sopping cunt down onto his mouth.
You let out a soft whimper as his tongue immediately darted out to skillfully lick at your wet folds. Simon was usually quite skilled with his mouth, but this new angle had you seeing stars.
"Grind on my face, sweetheart, go on." He spoke breathlessly as he pulled away from your cunt for a moment. "I know you want to."
You a rush of heat go straight to your core at his words, and took your seat back on his face. Slowly, you began to rock your hips back and forth, rubbing your sopping heat against Simon's flattened tongue.
The feeling was ethereal and like nothing you'd ever felt before. His warm tongue, flattened against your core, mixed with the slight stubble of his jawline had your orgasm rapidly approaching.
You continued your lazy pace, rocking your hips back and forth slightly as Simon continued to stretch out his tongue for you.
Your orgasm rippled through you, causing your body to convulse slightly against Simon's face. Simon's grip on your thighs tightened as he desperately licked up the remnants of your orgasm, moaning softly at your taste.
He sat up gently, and the look on his face had your cheeks aflame with embarrassment. His face was covered in your essence, but he couldn't have looked happier. "Did so well for me, love. Think you can cum on my cock this time?"
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John Price-
"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. Get that pretty ass over here and sit on my face." John's voice was demanding, leaving no room for you to question his request.
You discarded your undergarments as you made your way over to your husband, who was patiently waiting for you on the bed.
You hesitantly lowered yourself onto his face before he let out out a soft groan. "Don't put half your body weight on me, baby. Fucking sit on me like you would a chair."
John grabbed at the plushy flesh of your thighs as you sat yourself onto his face, pinning you so you were unable to move.
He waisted no time in placing wet, open-mouthed kisses to your core, causing your hands to fly out and grasp at the headboard in front of you.
"Always taste so fucking divine, princess." He groaned as he continued to slurp at your neverending arousal. The hair from his beard added to the pleasure you were experiencing as it began to rub at your pussy with each movement of his mouth.
You let out a strangled moan as your hands flew down to his hair, tugging at the dark brown locks firmly as you instinctively ground your cunt against his mouth.
John attached his lips to your clit tightly, sucking with just the right amount of pressure you make your body go limp against him. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you clung to his hair for dear life, his teeth now lightly biting at your clit.
"John, I'm gonna, I'm gonna cum." You gasped out as his tongue now started to flick feverishly at your puffy clit.
He grunted into your pussy in response as he looked up at you with lust filled eyes.
With one final flick of his tongue, your vision went white, your head falling back as your orgasm hit you. Your legs shook against John's head as he reached his hands out to steady you, his mouth not leaving your pussy as he continued the movements of his tongue.
He lifted you up slightly before flipping you over so that your backside was now in his face. He gave you a light smack to your ass, causing you to lurch forward, your face inches away from his painfully hard cock.
"Not done with you yet, but certainly won't complain if you want to return the favor."
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Johnny Soap MacTavish-
"Come here." Johnny beckoned, waiving you over with his hand. "Let me taste you, please. It's been too long."
"Johnny, I'm too heavy, I don't want to hurt you." You mumbled, nervously picking at your hair as you hovered over his midsection.
"You're not too heavy, bugger off with that. Now come over here and give me what I want." He chuckled darkly before grabbing your legs and pulling you toward him. "Be a good girl and sit."
You let your mind go blank as you obeyed his command, sitting yourself firmly on his outstretched tongue.
You gasped, feeling his tongue immediately go to your dripping folds. The worries of your weight on his face were long gone, as your mind grew hazy from the movements of Johnny's tongue.
Johnny was a groaning mess underneath you, causing you to moan out from the vibrations that rippled through your core from his groans.
"Use my face, lass. Make yourself cum in my mouth." Johnny's voice was husky, dripping with lust as he pulled away from your core to take a breather.
His words ellicited a primal growl from your lips as you pushed your aching core back down to his parted lips. You wasted no time in grabbing onto the sides of his head as you began to grind your wet heat down on his face.
Johnny licked at your cunt wildly, not missing a beat as he pushed his face further into your cunt, practically suffocating himself in it.
You felt your body tighten as your orgasm began to hit you, a wetness pooling out of you, coating your lover's face below you. You cried out as your body lurched forward, your hands flying to rest on the wall to support yourself. "Fuck, Johnny I'm so sorry, I've made a mess."
Johnny's hands grabbed at your waist, pulling you off of him before pinning you down in front of him on the bed.
"Don't. Ever. Apologize. For. That." He breathed, his face still slick with your arousal. He lowered himself down on the bed, his face hovering near your drenched pussy. "Now be a good girl, and let me clean up the mess we made."
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Kyle Gaz Garrick-
"But what if you can't breathe? I don't want to suffocate you." You said your cheeks are aflame with embarrassment
"Sweetheart, I promise to let you know if I can't breathe." He chuckled rubbing soothing circles into your thighs. "I've got a strong jaw. You won't hurt me."
"Okay." You breathed as your heart rate began to pick up. You slowly made your way up the length of Kyle's body before your heat hovered over his face.
You looked down to find Kyle giving you a reassuring smile before you sat down with your thighs on either side of his head.
He began with slow kitten licks, teasing your core with his tongue. He chuckled at the small moans that emitted from your lips as he licked a firm strip up your center.
"Taste so good, honey." He cooed into your pussy, before placing wet kisses all along your core.
His warm tongue moved to dance between your folds, collecting what he could of your essence. It never took long for Kyle to get drunk off your taste, and he quickly pulled you down further onto his face, nearly suffocating himself with your heat.
You'd never expected it to feel this good, and you couldn't help the string of moans that escaped your lips as your lover continued to ruin you with his mouth.
You felt yourself nearing your edge and desperately tried to move off of Kyle's mouth. "Ky, I'm close, I don't wanna make a mess."
He pulled his face away and chuckled darkly before placing another wet, open-mouthed kiss to your core. "You're staying right here til I get my fill out of you. Got it?"
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"Get over here." Alejandro said as he made himself comfortable on the bed. "Why are you being so shy, mi amor? It's just me."
"I dont want to hurt you." You mumbled sheepishly as you stood beside the bed.
"Sweetheart, you won't, I promise. You said this was something you've always wanted to try. Let me enlighten you. Plus, I want to, badly." His voice was soft as his arms reached out to grab you.
"You want to?" You asked, the shyness you felt before slowly leaving your system.
"So fucking bad hermosa." He echoed, pulling your naked frame onto the bed. "Go head, take a seat."
You slowly sank down onto his face, before feeling his warm, wet mouth immediately attack your cunt. He started a toe curling pace as he flattened his tongue against your sensitive bud and flitted his head from side to side.
"Fuck! Ale!" You cried out, your thighs tightening against his head, causing him to grunt out against your cunt.
His pace didn't falter, his head continuing to move side to side at a brutal pace, and you could feel yourself growing closer to your orgasm.
The sounds were obscene between your moans, and the slurping noises emitting from him had you nearing your release and fast.
Alejandro moved his mouth down to your entrance, his tongue flicking at the hole wildly as his nose rubbed at your clit. A soft moan emitted from your lips, causing him to fully sheathe his tongue inside of your hole, rubbing along the velvety walls within his reach.
You felt the coil in your belly tightening as your hands flew down to your lover's hair, threading it in between his black locks. "Ale, g-gonna cum."
"Cum for me princessa." He moaned into your pussy, and his words were all you needed to be sent over the edge. You felt a pulsing heat corse through you as Alejandro continued to eat you out through your orgasm. He pulled his face away from you a few moments later with a devilish grin.
"I need more, mi amor. Be good for me, and let me get my fill."
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"Sit on my face." Rodolfo asked suddenly causing you to halt your bouncing movements on his cock.
"What?" You asked breathless, your hands steadying yourself on his chest.
"I said, mi amor, come sit on my face, let me make you feel good." He stretched his hands out toward you, beckoning you toward him. "You're doing so good on top of me, I want to repay you."
You let him drag you toward him before placing a shaky hand on his chest. "Wait, what if I hurt-"
"Don't ask me if you're going to hurt me, and don't ask if I'll be able to breathe, please cariño, just sit on my face." He begged, his eyes pleading with yours.
You swallowed thickly and moved to sit on his face as his arms came to latch around your thighs, pressing you firmly to his face.
He began to lap at your arousal like a man starved and was unable to control the soft groans that emitted from his lips against your pussy.
"Put all your weight on me, mi amor." He purred as his hands wrapped around your thighs. With your mind hazy, all your previous insecure thoughts were long forgotten as you fully sat yourself on your lover's face, relishing in the feeling of his tongue lapping at your heat.
He was beyond pussy drunk, and planned to stay like that for hours if you let him. His pace began to quickened as he let his tongue dance between your folds, flicking at your clit each time his tongue landed at the top of your pussy.
You couldn't help but let yourself fall back slightly, your hands grabbing at his thighs behind you to give you support as you began to move your hips in a circular motion, rubbing your pussy along Rodolfos outstretched tongue.
You felt yourself getting closer to your release, and Rodolfo knew it. He abruptly pulled away from your core with a grin. "Ah ah ah."
You let out a small whimper as Rodolfo sat up, sending you sliding to his midsection. "Be good hermosa, and get back on my cock, yeah?"
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"Maus, please, come sit on my face." König pleaded, his cock painfully straining against his pants. "I need it."
"Kö, I'll hurt you. You won't be able to breathe."
"Schatz, you won't hurt me, I promise. Please." He begged, his lust filled eyes raking up and down your figure. "Let me make you feel good."
You swallowed your nerves and walked over to your boyfriend, climbing over his figure on the bed. "Tell me if it's too much."
"You'll never be too much." He roughly pulled you down onto his mouth, causing you to cry out as his tongue danced at your aching hole. His eyes stayed on you as he began to move his tongue in a circular motion at your entrance before moving it in and out of you at a languid pace.
You let out a small sob, the stimulation of his tongue quickly proving to be too much as you bucked your hips, your core grinding against his face. He let out a dark chuckle as his tongue returned to your hole, continuing to piston in and out of you at a feverish pace.
His pace eventually slowed as his tongue made its way to your clit, slowly drawing various letters and symbols against your bundle of nerves. Your thighs had tightened around his head, allowing you to grind yourself again on your lover's face.
König let out a groan as you gently ground your wet heat across his face, covering him from his nose to his chin with your arousal.
He quickened the pace of his tongue once more as he felt you shake slightly against his face, a sign of your oncoming orgasm. He began to flick his tongue wildly at your clit while squeezing at the flesh of your ass.
You felt the coil in your belly tighten and snap with one harsh flick of Königs tongue, your orgasm tearing through you as your legs tightened around his head. "Fuck, Kö!"
König didn't stop moving his mouth, however, and continued to lap at your orgasm obscenely. He pulled his face away moments later, a giant fucked out smile lining his lips. "Let me go again, Maus, please?
A/N: Instead of taking a full-on break, I'm planning on posting periodically instead of every day. I still am working to get to each of your requests, and I greatly appreciate all of your patience and support🩷
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poiverine · 19 days
I’ve cracked the code
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bonus Nikolai
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shyerue · 1 month
Incorrect CoD Part 3 - The MW2 guys as black cats
feat. discreet shipping
Twitter shyerue_
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shkretart · 4 months
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Just sketches!
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callofdudes · 1 month
What are you reading??
A/N: this was requested by @thicc-plum so I hope y'all enjoy my friend. This took way too long, please let me know if you catch any spelling mistakes.
This includes 141, Alejandro & Rodolfo.
Summary: The reader gets caught reading a smut book and the boys tease the hell out of her.
CW: Brief depictions of sexual interactions, the boys 'teasing' you.
Y'all really want a part 2 huh... I've made you a lil part 2 for y'all.
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You were sitting alone at a table in the canteen. Lunch was almost over but you hadn't busied yourself with food. You were sitting in the corner with one of your books in hand. You always loved to read, but this book in particular you had refrained from reading around the others. It was... A different kind of book. Not one with little swordsmen going on long adventures to sweep away their friends from the perils of danger.
It was one with tension, heat. The kind that nestled in your stomach and bubbled up through your chest, making you feel a small, almost tangible piece of the intimacy you read about.
You were engrossed in the book. The atmosphere around you was drowned out as you read.
His hand guided her thigh, skirt riding up past her hip and their eyes met. Their breaths tangled in the warm bedroom, sweat soaking into the sheets-
"What are you reading??"
You gasp and slam your book shut. Your hands tremble as you push it away from you.
Johnny smirks, laughing as he sits down. "Oh you should see your face!"
You scoff. "Not funny Johnny."
Johnny grabs the book from your trembling hands and examines the cover.
"Oh~ what is this risque piece of artwork??" He flips through the pages, reading over some of the sentences. You attempt to grab the book back but Johnny puts his elbow up to keep you away while he reads.
His eyes go wide. "Woah!! That's some descriptive oral- my goodness!"
"Johnny!!" You jump and grab the book back, pulling it to your chest.
Your cheeks go red. "Don't tell the others, please??"
"Depends, can I borrow the book??"
"What are you going to do with it??"
"Read it, obviously. It looks good."
He gives you his signature smirk and you can't help but feel inclined to agree. You grumble under your breath. "whatever, I'll finish and then you can read it. But please return it!!"
Johnny nods. "Of course."
"By the way, you're late for your meeting with Price. You don't want me to tell him you're late because of an innocent little book, would you??"
He grins. "Wouldn't want dear old captain to know you're doing such naughty little things." He squeezes your thigh.
He stands from his chair.
Your cheeks burn redder, but the time manages to take your attention.
You look at your watch and curse. "Don't tell anyone Johnny! I'm serious!!"
He winks at you as he walks away. "You can count on me y/n!"
You grumble and hold your book close. Why on earth would Johnny want to read it?? Was he messing with you?? Or was he actually interested.
You rush out of the canteen and shove your book in your bag. You just hope Johnny wouldn't tell anyone what he saw you reading.
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You will admit, yes, you had it coming. You weren't doing your paperwork as it had gotten too boring too quickly and you'd given up for a bit. No one likes doing paperwork. The only ones who didn't complain about it happened to be Price, Ghost, and Gaz. You were none of them.
So you'd kicked up your feet and started to read your book. It was a book you'd gotten on leave and you had kept it fairly secret from the others, it wasn't a book you wanted them to know about.
It was better than doing paperwork. And much more fun.
You must have lost track while reading however, getting too caught up in the endless pages of sticky hot mess.
"He latched onto her neck, sucking a deep hickey into her supple throat. She cried out his name softly into the night, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders-"
There was a knock on the door.
You shot up, scrambling immediately to bring your feet off your desk and straighten up. You slam your book back into the desk drawer.
"Come in!"
Price enters, making you gulp.
"Y/n, we haven't seen you for a while, I wanted to see how things are coming along in here."
He sees the enormous pile of paperwork on your desk and crosses his arms. You immediately look down and away, knowing you would probably be in trouble for this.
He sighs and comes around the corner of the desk, seeing the still open drawer with your book in It. He sees the very risque cover and pulls it out before you can stop him.
"Was this what had your attention??"
You gulp, getting anxious as he flips through the pages.
He hums thoughtfully. He flips the pages and reads through some of the things, his facial expressions changing with each new scenario played out in the book.
He eventually closes it and places it in one of his pockets.
"Shh, I've seen enough. If this is what you'd like to occupy your time with, very well then."
"I'm sorry."
He tuts. "Be a good girl and finish your paperwork. When you're done, we can discuss this little book of yours."
Your cheeks burn red and you look away.
"Yes Captain."
"That's a good girl."
Price walked off, leaving a heavy feeling in your stomach. You had a weird new motivation to finish your paperwork though.
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The evening was quiet and the others were out. It was just you and Gaz on base and you were relishing in the quiet environment. Wrapped up in a blanket, the fireplace crackling a few feet away from you, nothing better.
With a book in hand the world could only be perfect. Your eyes feel tired, even as you read the book that always makes your stomach drop and your emotions rise.
You thought Gaz had gone to bed, so you felt comfortable reading it without the others around. You would always read this book in your room, it never saw the light of day around the guys.
"He whispered low in her ear, nipping at the corner of her lobe. His hands groped down across her collar, fingers tangling in her necklace..."
You continued to read, barely registering the creak of the floorboards. You'd assumed it was the house settling since you hadn't heard the door. Nor had you noticed the shadow bast behind you, soft brown eyes reading each delicately picked word with you.
Suddenly, you feel breathing near your ear. Your heartbeat quickens and your fingers feel tense. The feeling in your stomach growls hotter with each second.
"That seems a little naughty to be reading out here, don't you think sweetheart?"
You jump, nearly screaming as a voice cuts through your concentration, shattering the perfect dream of being wrapped in an embrace just as addictive as the words in your book.
Gaz grins, his hand touching your shoulder and running down your arm to flip the page of the book.
"K-Kyle- I didn't realize you were-"
"Shh. Read it out loud."
Your cheeks turn deep red. "W-what-??"
"Read it out loud to me sweetheart."
Your heart rate quickens and your voice catches in your throat. You want to say yes just as badly as you want to say no. But the way Kyle strokes his thumb over your hand made you willing.
Kyle hums. "Good. I think you'll want to finish this next chapter before the others return. You wouldn't want them to hear all the things you've been reading about."
You gulp, but you reluctantly start to read.
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You couldn't sleep. So naturally in the early hours of the morning when you figured no one else was awake, you turned to the kitchen for a snack.
You patter through the hallway with your book in hand. You turn on the kitchen light and make yourself some tea to soothe your body, considering you were sore from the lack of sleep.
You sat down at the kitchen table with your tea and opened your book. The cover was bright red with dazzling shiny line work around two figures. One holding the other in a more suggestive manner. Each chapter displaying a new set of characters put through taboo and risque situations. All of them leading to a spicy climax.
You sunk into the quiet atmosphere and started to read. Your eyes drowned into the words, hands holding the book firmly.
"He pulled her back, his large hand wrapped tightly around her throat. His sneer could almost look evil to anyone who wasn't her. Treated like a doll in his large hands, putting so much trust into his punishments."
You gulp, not realizing how heavy your breathing had gotten until a hand wraps around your throat.
It catches you so off guard you whine. Thumb and forefinger pressing into the sensitive parts under your jaw, making your insides coil and twist.
You bite your lip, hands trembling.
Warm breath whisps over your cheek and Ghost's rough Manchester voice breaks the silence.
"I always knew you were into some weird shit."
His other hand reaches out and takes the book from you, inspecting the cover.
His hand tightens on your throat, making you moan quietly.
He hums, flipping through some of the pages.
Your cheeks start to burn, watching out of the corner of your eye as he flips. You can't see his face, you can't gauge his reaction. All you know is his hand is wrapped so nicely around your throat, body hidden in the shadows it makes you feel as small as the girl in the story.
He gets to a certain page and chuckles. "You are into some weird shit."
You grab his wrist, wanting to pry him away and wanting him closer. It feels like a dream how it is all playing out, you are scared you want more.
He places the book down and squeezes your throat, getting another soft moan out of you.
He lets go and chuckles. "I could do better than he can."
It makes you want to pass out. He lets you go and when you turn around he's already walking away. Your arms and legs are shaking but you rush after him, wanting to know what he meant.
He doesn't lock his door when he disappears, and you know all too well it's an invitation into the book you'd just been reading.
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(also I love this gif, look at Rodolfo just effortlessly toss that crate- boy you are amazing and I love you)
Look, everyone on base knew you were a little freaky at times. It was no secret to anyone. And it also wasn't a secret you might have a teensy tiny little thing for your colonel and the sergeant major.
That was not the point however.
You had just finished up a long day of training with the Vaqueros. You'd been out all afternoon, which was why you were a bit surprised you were being called into Alejandro and Rodolfo's office for a little chat.
What this chat was about, you weren't entirely sure.
But you finished up your routines and set off for their office.
You knock on the door, hearing Alejandro's voice beckon you in. When you open the door you're greeted by both Alejandro and Rodolfo. Alejandro is sitting while Rodolfo is standing next to him with something in his hands.
You would know that velvet patterned trophy book anywhere.
Your blood turns cold.
"Take a seat y/n." Alejandro smiles at you with that smile. The one that makes your heart flutter and your stomach flop.
You nod and take a seat. "What's this about?"
Rodolfo leans over and places the book in front of you. "Look familiar? It has your name written on the inside cover."
You gulp and nod, your cheeks going a bit red. "Yes sir sergeant, I know the book quite well."
"I think you would, considering how worn it, must get read a lot."
By now Rodolfo has come around to your side, one hand snaking up your arm to your shoulder and squeezing the muscles.
You gulp again.
Alejandro opens the book and flips through the pages. "Such a filthy book y/n, there's only one reason you could read this book so much."
You look away bashfully.
"Does it give you a high, Y/n??"
"N-no colonel!"
Alejandro stands and flips to a certain page. He taps the frame of the book and bends down in front of you, guiding your gaze back to his with his thumb and forefinger.
"Care to explain this then?"
You look down at the page he points to, you know it well. Rereading it over and over. It had crinkled edges from your sweaty fingers and dirt makes from the small traces your nails would leave.
You reread the words you practically knew by heart.
"She cries loudly, voice broken into sobs. The man behind her keeps a firm grip in her hair and tugs her back against him. The second man gazes down into her teary eyes, letting her breathe a fresh breath of air before plunging back into her throat."
Your cheeks were red enough, tainted deeper when you saw the scribbled names of your colonel and sergeant major at the bottom of the page.
Rodolfo's hand curls in your hair, his soft voice near your ear. "Considere esto su castigo por leer tal suciedad."
Your brow wobbles, but you can't run from them, you never could.
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yeyinde · 6 months
body electric | everyone x f!reader
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It's the burn of hindsight, that fuzzy little thing called moribund that leaks into your marrow as you all take turns showering (they let you go first, unspoken, of course), and converge around the large meeting room where everything—including Simon Riley—was exposed. 
Several drinks in, Gaz turns to you and says: never have I ever… had a gangbang before, and things quickly devolved from there. 
(Well. You can scratch that off your bucket list.)
Simon, Price, Gaz, Soap, Alejandro, Rudy x f!Reader
⇾warnings: unfettered filth; gendered reader, gendered terminology, female!reader; oral—m&f receiving; unsafe sex; p-in-v sex, fingering; anal, rimming, anal fingering; this is a 6 man gangbang ummmmmmmm what more can i add? 
⇾notes: um. yeah. it is what it is and it is nasty.
thank you so much @moondirti for encouraging me to write this, and @sprout-fics and @guyfieriii for the juicy ideas (and full credit for the makeout sess with Rudy goes to @guyfieriii) 🖤
(@ tumblrstaff, please don't delete my blog for this)
also, thank u so much cod fandom. if this revokes my fandom license, just know that it's an absolute honour and privilege to go out into the way i came in—with nothing but filth. 
you only have yourselves to blame. and this person in particular 😭
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It starts like this: 
Price, a little bruised around the edges, and worn from the helicopter, grumbles about needing a drink. Gaz, a little quieter than usual, a little subdued, nods firmly beside him. 
It's a spate—Shepherd, Graves—and the cumulation of it all leaves you feeling a little lour, a little out of it. Betrayal, death. You all reek of gunpowder and ichor. 
That may be why there is a palpable sense of relief when Alejandro and Rudy fish out some bottles stashed away in the kitchen. He holds two by the nozzle, hefts them in the air, and says:
Who wants some?
No one, not even Ghost, says no. 
It's the burn of hindsight, that fuzzy little thing called moribund that leaks into your marrow as you all take turns showering (they let you go first, unspoken, of course), and converge around the large meeting room where everything—including Simon Riley—was exposed. 
Several drinks in, Gaz turns to you and says: never have I ever…, and things quickly devolved from there. 
That was then, before you knew how Price, Soap, Gaz Alejandro, and Rodolfo, liked to kiss. 
Price—rough, just like everything else about him; shades of smouldering tobacco leaves in the form of an unrelenting powerplay. He batters you into docility, leaves you feeling vapid and stupid by the time his hands rubs circles on the small of your back, the other holding your chin and leading you—always a leader, always—in whichever direction he wants. He's a thinly-veiled lesson in discipline. When you stray from his command, his fingers—thick, and bruising—are immediately there to reprimand you. He tastes like leather and smells like suede. His beard grazes your face until you feel a little sunburnt, a little dazed. He smells of low-grade motor oil and charred pinyon, and the musk of it makes you feel more intoxicated than the aged tequila on your tongue. 
His tongue curls over your teeth and the noises he lets out are rasping guttural growls. The kicking engine of a classic car that was left to idle for too long. An American muscle car, maybe. The whiplash bellow of a Hemi purring against your lips. A mustang, a Chevelle. Something drenched in masculinity and oozing authority. 
It's controlled. Blistering. He shifts your body around until you're tucked into the warm press of his chest. His hold is ironclad. No escape. 
It's Soap, then, something falling from his lips. My turn, maybe. But nothing is solid in the effervescent grey matter saturating your thoughts. You feel drunk with pink peppercorn and sweetgrass when it envelopes you from behind. 
His hands pull you away from Price, murmurs of soft words, things meant for a lover spill from his full pink lips. So pretty, hen; gonna make you feel so good. His eagerness shows he slots his pelvis to yours, and the hard, firm bulge of him nearly has you seeing stars. 
Soap lingers for a moment, fingers tracing the wet curve of your raw lips, chafed and irritated by the bristles of Price's beard. 
It wouldn't be wrong to call the way he touches the drying amalgam of yours and Price's—captain Price, superior, boss; untouchable—saliva obscene. It's filthy the way he grazes his finger under the curve of your lip, eyes honeycomb and wanting. 
"Wanna gimme a kiss, hen?"
When he asks you like that, soft and hushed, the ghost of his breath across your stinging lips, you can't say no. 
His mouth is molten on yours. He kisses you like he's starving for it. It's wet, and messy. Spittle drips down your chin when he shoves his tongue in your cavern, chasing your taste. Teeth clash, and your lips are pulled softly into his mouth until they swell, bruised and numbed. He only pulls away when you gasp, begging for air, grinning wickedly in the amber glow. 
You barely have a second to catch your breath before Gaz is there, hands firm on your ass, dragging you into him. 
Gaz peppers you in small, full kisses. Open mouth, teeth sinking into the plush bed of your bottom lip, suckling it into his mouth. Then he pulls away, leaves you dazed, and leaning forward, chasing the thrill of him. He huffs, hands sliding around the curve of your waist. Want it bad, eh? 
A tidal wave. A storm surge. They batter against you until you're drunk off the taste of them. An illicit elixir of sin. A tantalising tease of what's to come. 
Alejandro kisses you with unmatched finesse. Velvet soft sensuality that tastes of spiced clove and armoise. It starts slow. Just the press of his lips on yours. They lift into a grin, teeth sealed when you whimper and try to chase the santalum on his tongue. He laughs: a low, throaty chuckle, and wedges the tip between his teeth. A small taste, but not nearly enough to satiate you. You feel a little bit like you're floating in the clouds when his tongue finally fills the gap between your teeth; roiling over every inch of space he can find. 
You feel like a beached log—ruined by the gritty sand on the bottom of the seafloor, and spat back out into dry land. Covered in the taste of them all, you find yourself slipping off a steep precipice into a chasm you can't climb out of. 
It's Rodolfo, then, who grounds you. 
His hand is warm on your chin—a beacon of light in a dark tunnel. His lips are a balm to your irritated, bruised flesh. It's sweet. The taste of sweet Brachetto d'Acqui and hedgerow blossoms. He smells of golden copal and kisses you like he's pressing his lips to the hands of his Father; a baptism in soft skin and reverent touches that make you feel like you've been found. Its featherlight whispers of his lips across your skin: the corners of your mouth, the soft skin between your chin and lower lip. 
Hands on your waist, hot and heavy. Soap sinks his face in the space between your shoulder blades with a slow drawl of your name, teeth grazing your flesh. His stubble abrades your flesh until you're trembling in their embrace. Static shocks of pleasure bloom in the pits of your stomach. 
Rodolfo's head drops, murmured words spilling in hymnals as he nuzzles your neck. Soft, gentle. He puts you together again just to dissolve you into ashes from psalms. 
Gaz leaks grape cigarillos, and nag champa incense when he presses flush to your side. 
It's when he asks Alejandro if there's any oil, any lube, does it start to sink into your sun-warmed flesh that this is happening. It's real.
You could blame Gaz— never have I ever had a threesome or a gangbang —but the idea mushroomed inside of your head, sporous and damning, until it was all you could think about. you, of course, weren't immune to the sudden hush that fell over the group drinking near the table when you stammered out your answer: 
No, I've never had a threesome or a gangbang before.
It all happened so suddenly. The atmosphere was a rich, dense cloud of feverish energy buzzing around you; a miasma of hedonism in smoke and white musk. 
Price, then, behind you. Alejandro's barking laughter (no way, cariño, you're too beautiful to never have been fucked like that before). The way Soap's eyes gleamed in the light. Rudy's quiet shake of his head. Ghost's eyes liquifying: heavy, midnight oil on your skin. The sound of glass cracking when Gaz said:
Well, would you? 
Would I…? Silence. Poignant. Stifling. 
Would you ever have a gangbang? 
It spiralled from there. Gaz's words burrowing into your skin. His hands—are hot and heavy on your body. Soap dropping to his knees as he lifted your leg up on his shoulder, breathing deeply against your clothed cunt. 
Want to, hen? Wanna take all a'us? 
Alejandro's sharp breath. Might break her, hermano. Don't know about you, but I'm a big man.
Yeah, Price's mouth on yours, breath ghosting over your trembling lips. The scratch of his beard rubbing your skin until it was pink and flushed. Ain't the only one, mate. 
Lips searing into yours. Sensual rolls of his tongue from Alejandro, hands roaming across your back. A soft, sweet series of kisses that left you breathless from Rudy. Messy, almost hypoxia-inducing ones from Soap that made your head spin, and drool dripped down your chin, your neck, covering your chest. An intense, blistering assault by Gaz, his hand firm on the nape of your neck. 
It felt a little bit like a dream. Feverish and desperate. Tinged in the surrealism of being passed around like a prized trophy kissed after a well-won match. 
It feels like a cacoethes and carries the taste of Alejandro's tequila. Bad decisions made under terrible influence. 
And now—
There are hands on your body—many of them, in fact: Price holding the back of your knees up to your chest as he swipes his tongue over your aching cunt, lapping at your clit; Soap's on your nipples, pinching and tugging until you're mewling at the sharp pleasure-pain that ripples down your spine. Rodolfo stroking your face, murmuring in dulcet Spanish about how good you are, how pretty you look with your captain between your thighs. Alejandro's fingers ghosting over your torso, and trailing down to your throbbing clit when Price forces the thick of his tongue inside your quivering hole. 
It edges into overstimulation; you're equally aware of every single brush across your trembling flesh, and completely gone at the same time. Dissolved into liquid mush. 
And they haven't even really started yet. 
Gaz is gone somewhere in search of the petroleum jelly in the office upstairs. Ghost leans against the wall—not willing, you think, to partake but still here, still watching you spread out on the table where he dropped his mask for the first time as everyone touches you. 
"Fuck, cariño," Alejandro rasps, his finger pressing against your clit in tandem with Price's tongue fucking into the clutch of you. It's too much—his voice is heavy with sin and the heft of it makes you quake. "Bonita. You're so pretty like this, eh? All flushed pretty carmesí and aching for it." 
Rodolfo, Rudy he murmurs low in your ear when you whimper his name, chuckles. "She's stunning, eh, hermano."
"Fuckin' right," Soap breathes, his fingers drifting across your smeared lips. "You want this, aye, bonnie? Want us to fuck you silly?"
All you can do is moan brokenly around his hand, fingers rubbing across your tongue. 
"Where's Gaz?" Price grumbles into your cunt, beard grazing your inner thighs. "Wanna fuck this tight pussy already, love. Need to feel you around my cock—"
He punctuates his words with the tips of his blunt fingers, pushing two of them into your dripping hole. The sting makes you keen, makes your knees shake. You want to say too much, too sudden, but you can't speak around the three fingers shoved into your throat.
The look on your face makes Alejandro groan. "I want your mouth, cariño. Can I?" 
"Christ, hermano," Soap huffs, amused. Tone draped in sex. It makes your thighs quiver. "Ready to start, then?" 
"I am," Price grouses, nose flushed against your clit. "I've been thinkin' about this cunt for a long time, love."
They move in tandem. Seamless weaving with one singular goal of stuffing you full of all of them. 
Soap pulls his hand away, rubbing your slick over his flushed cock. 
You moan against Alejandro's cock when he presses it to the seal of your quivering mouth. His hand is firm on your head, but his eyes are gentle. He waits for you, holding still until you give him your affirmation to continue. The sight of his flushed, tanned cock makes you whimper. He smells of sin: oud and myrrh; heady and thick. Your head swims with the way it clots in your lungs.  
Your mouth aparts, tongue rolling out over the weeping head of his cock. It's salty. Brinny. You moan a little when it slides deeper into your mouth. 
"Jesus—," Soap pants, rough and slurred. The noise jars into you. 
Hands fall over you again, and you lose track of who is touching you when Price groans into your cunt, and Alejandro pushes your jaw open wider, sliding more of his cock into your mouth. 
The air buzzes with something bordering on frenetic. Pent up energy from the success of the mission, the alcohol spuming in your veins. The high of the win burns through everyone. 
This—a gangbang —would never have happened if it wasn't somehow the perfect storm, the coalescence of all the right emotions. 
It's intense. Surreal. 
And then Alejandro pitches his hips forward with a smoked groan, murmurs:
"Fuck, gonna cum, cariño. Are you gonna swallow it for me?"
A hushed silence falls around you. It's one thing to attend, but another to partake, and you wonder if they are realising that this is the point of no return. 
It's met with a soft moan. 
You want it. Want his cum. Want to taste more of that salty haar tang in your throat, feel it settle in the pit of your belly. Hot and syrupy thick. 
He pitches his hips forward, hand sliding up the length of his cock not buried in your throat, stroking himself as you suckle on his head. It's sloppy, and wet, and fuck —
Alejandro is the first to cum. The first to spill his milky release on your tongue. It's salty, briny. Not at all dissimilar to the margaritas he handed you hours ago.
His moan is choked and hoarse, a low bellow in the depths of his belly that rumbles through you in a series of deep uh, uh, uhs. 
You barely have time to swallow when Rudy is there. Hands on your cheek, eyes lidded and pleading. Can I, cariño? 
Alejandro's cum spills from your tongue when he pulls away, dribbling down your chin, neck. It puddles on your chest where Soap's thumb catches the droplets, smearing them around your hard nipples. 
You nod, swallowing down the mouthful of cum, brows furrowed in pleasure with each roll of Price's tongue laving at your cunt; the gentle way Soap kneads your flesh. 
Rudy shuffles closer, and the flavour of cardamom spumes around you. His body burns hot, heavy cock twitching in his grip. Your mouth drops, tongue lulling out, and he grunts at the sight, eyes cresting. 
"You're beautiful, mi Reina."
Rudy's cock brushes across your tongue, eyes shuddering when you wrap your lips around him, head tipping back in pleasure. "Fuck…"
Your tongue laves over his slit, tasting the salty spill of him. His breath is ragged, heavy. There is no warning—just a strangled choke of your name—and then he's cumming on your tongue, ropes spurting over your cheeks and chin. 
You gasp, wet and broken, and absolutely filthy. 
"That's it—," Price mumbles against you, blowing a huff of air across your slit. It makes your toes curl—the perfect mix of not enough and too much, and—
Rudy strokes your hair, eyes glazed. The angle is awkward, but his mouth slots over yours, tongue rubbing over the mess they made of you. He kisses you like he's worshipping you. Like you're the best thing he'd ever tasted, and he can't get enough. 
There is a blunt pressure against your core. A delicious coil inside of you unspooling. 
Price has three fingers buried to the knuckle inside of you, tongue rolling over your clit, when you cum around him, knees shaking as you moan at the tight clutch of your walls stretched taut. 
"Fuck," Soap breathes, taking Rudy's place when he pulls away from you, lips red and glossy. He pushes his blunt head against your cheek. Cum spurts out, splattering across your face in thick milky ropes. "That's what you sound like when you cum? Jesus—"
You barely have time to catch your breath when Price lifts his head, beard soaked in your slick. Heat pools in your belly again at the sight. He looks like ruin. Wet and dark, and hungry. You whimper when he rubs the scuff of his damp beard over your spread pussy. Coarse hair grazes your clit, and the spark of pleasure has you seeing double. Makes liquid bliss bloom in your chest. 
"Couldn't wait, eh, cap?" Gaz returns with a wink, waving the bottle of jelly in his hands when he moves into your periphery. 
"Can it, and get over here." 
Price helps you sit up, mouth stinging, and sticky with cum and saliva. His eyes catch in the dimming light high in the rafts. Drunken desire spools in the shades of sapphire blue. His thumb brushes across the corner of your mouth. 
"Might have to see you like this more often, love."
"Shooting your shot already, cap?" Gaz drawls, humour lacing in his tone. 
"Not my fault you waited too long."
"You're lucky," Alejandro rumbles. Firm hands fall to your shoulders, rubbing the knots in your back until your head falls, forehead pressed to Price's chest with a moan. "Should stay here, cariño. I'll make you happy. Get you nice and fat on Mexican food, and swollen with mis hijos e hijas."
"Sí," Rudy's lips brush the shell of your ear, whispering saccharine words in Spanish. "We'll live on the farm. Drinking wine every day. I'll take you to the coast."
You shudder, belly spuming with heat. Overwhelmed, dizzy. It's a dangerous elixir. A deadly combination. It makes you want, yearn. 
"No way," Soap huffs. "She's comin' home with us. Back to the UK where she can sit on my cock whenever she wants—"
"You're all wrong," Gaz scoffs. "Price called dibs the moment—"
"That's enough." His command is rough, dry. 
Gaz glances at you, and the humour shifts. Darkens. "Fuck, look what they did to you already." 
You feel it, thick and viscous, on your burning skin. The flush deepens. You can only imagine what you look like. Your lashes are clumped together, and heavy. Cheeks irritated from the beard burn and the saline smear of cum over your flesh. Swollen, cock-bruised lips. Messy in voluptuary pearlescent. 
"You look good," Soap says, taut, and slightly breathless. 
They stare at you like you're a banquet—a feast. Your heart thuds in your chest, cum-filled belly rolling. Its—
Powerful. Sensual. 
Price's eyes flutter when he leans over you, hands feverish when they fall on your skin. "Gotta move you, now, love. That alright?"
You swallow and taste the ocean. The sea. "Y—yeah."
He shudders. A frisson flurries across his face. "Good."
His hands are solid on your body as they manoeuvre you until your belly is flushed to the table, panting against the damp fabric beneath you. He presses his cock against your ass, letting you feel the iron-hard, velvety soft heat of him. You push your hips back, cunt throbbing. You want it. Want his cock. Want him to fill you up until you're stuffed and fat, and—
Happy, Alejandro said. Happy. 
"Soon, love," his voice is a thunderclap in a bottle. You tremble when the balmy heat of him moves away from you, leaving you spread and exposed. 
"Fuck," Gaz murmurs. His hand trails down your spine, fingers slipping between the crease of your ass. 
He spoke to you about it already. Five of us. Wanna—he licked his lips, eyes hooded and caramel rich—wanna let me fuck your ass?
In for a penny. 
Gaz shushes you when you whimper, mouth ghosting over the soft flesh of your ass. He wastes no time. His fingers dig into your cheeks, spreading them open. You mewl. Your body is electrified: too much, too soon, too raw—too exposed; but Gaz groans deep in his throat. 
"Fuck, look at you." 
He doesn't give you a moment; doesn't waver even when Soap tells him to move away so they can see. There is no preamble. His tongue laves over your asshole, a filthy grunt spilling from his lips as he tastes your flesh.
"Steamin' Jesus, Gaz," Soap groans. Slick noises can be heard behind you. "Fuckin' Christ—"
It's strange. The sensation is heightened by the awareness that everyone—everyone—is watching Gaz devour your ass like it's the best meal he's had in weeks. You quiver, dropping your head into the table. Price stands by your side, cock jerking each time you moan. 
His hand on your head is a comfort. A heavy weight. Your hips rock back into Gaz's tongue, keening when it slips into your hole. It doesn't hurt, but there's an insistent pressure as he stretches you open. 
A cold, slick finger joins soon after, and the ache makes you choke. 
"S'alright, love," Price murmurs, and your lachrymose eyes blink open, gritty and sticky, and dart to him. His hand tightens around the base of his cock. Your cunt throbs at the sight. "Focus on me, yeah?"
The rawness in your voice makes him groan. Makes them groan. You can hear Alejandro swear. Soap grunt. More slick noises reverberate around you, and you flush. Cheeks burning. They're getting themselves off to this. To Gaz fingering your tight asshole open for their cocks. Another hole for them to slip inside. 
Fuck, fuck fuck—
"That's it," Price coos, low and smoky, and filled with rough tobacco. 
His hand threads through your hair as Soap's roam your body, slipping beneath your chest and the table, punching your nipples, stroking your belly. Rudy, or maybe Alejandro—you can't see, can't tell—tap on your clit as two fingers are pushed back into your throbbing cunt. 
You want them. Want it. 
Price groans, his cock spitting out prespend that dribbles down the length of him. "I want you to suck my cock, love. Will you do that for me?" 
You nod, core quivering as a rush of heat flutters down to the base of your spine. You still taste Alejandro, Rudy, on your tongue. 
You wonder if Price tastes just as good.
Price helps you move, and angles his cock toward you, grunting when your wet, sloppy mouth seals over the head. 
He tastes even better. Salty and bitter. Tobacco ash and smoke. You want to drown in it. 
Gaz stretches your ass as you swallow your captain's cock, and your head still spins with that notion, not quite able to believe you're on your knees for them, spread open, and being readied for all of them that take. 
It cudgels into your stomach: a gnarling frisson that makes throb, makes you push back onto Gaz's fingers, his tongue, and moan around Price's cock. 
"That enough, Gaz?" He sounds wrecked when he speaks. Ashes and gasoline; it's saturated in want. The air crackles with impatience. 
His tongue slides across your fluttering hole in a long, wet stripe, as if savouring the taste of you before he pulls back. 
"Yeah—," it's wet when it slurs out of him. His fingers press against your loose hole, moaning a little when you greedily take the tips inside. "Fuck, she's more than ready, cap."
Price wastes no time. He pulls you off of him, and the others—all communicating in a series of strange commands you can't decipher through the rush in your head—all make room for him. 
He turns you around, and lifts you onto the table, legs spread around the thick of him. His cock throbs against your pussy when you wiggle back, trying to get comfortable on the bed of masks—Ghost's masks—and it hits you, now, that you're going to get fucked. That your pussy and your ass have been stretched, prepped, and are ready for them. All of them. 
He stares down at you, nostrils flaring, and the dark look in his molten sapphire gaze makes you wonder if he feels it, too. If it's hitting him with just as much of a punch as it is you. 
His cock nudges against your hole. He pauses, eyes flickering up from the seal of your cunt around his flushed, engorged head, to confirm, one last time, if you want this. If you're sure.
It's debauched and absolutely filthy, but—your hand reaches out when Soap steps up, cock bobbing with each step, and you grasp his shaft. Alejandro's fingers ghost over your bruised, swollen mouth, and you let him lead your head to his throbbing cock, lips sealing over the leaking head. 
Rudy's hands are reverent when he takes your other hand, bringing it to his length. 
It's all the confirmation he needs, but still. Price waits. Your heart thunders in your chest. Your captain—always so—
The thought is nipped when you nod around Alejandro, and he pushes inside of your pussy. Stretching your cunt with his girth. You moan, legs falling open wider as he splits you apart. 
It's good. It's too much. It's—
He feeds it into you, lips curled up in a snarl as you split around him. He grunts—rasping growls that spool inside of your core until you're white-hot, and whimpering. 
"Come on, love," is rucked from his throat. A battering ram against your chest swinging hard, and ferocious until you see stars. "You can take me."
It makes you tremble. Makes the world around you grind together; tectonic plates shifting, crashing. Earthquake tremors along the base of your spine, rattling your bones. It cracks them open, and leaks Nirvana through your bloodstream. 
Price's cock wrenches you open. Each inch jarring the soporific slurry of sex and smoke congealing heavy in your veins until you're mewling around Alejandro's cock. 
His groans of pleasure as resin thick; smouldering sandalwood. Cracking sap. He works himself inside of you, gruff praises falling from his still-damp lips. You feel good. This pretty cunt was made to get ruined, wasn't it? Take me, love. That's it. They slide over your skin, oud oil and syrup thick, until your flesh prickles with goosebumps. 
Alejandro's cock hits the gummy walls of your throat, his grunt curls over you. Clove and amber. You burn. There is a give, and then—
His hips slide against yours, cunt stuffed to the brim with his cock. Tears leak down your cheeks at the feeling of him sitting so heavy inside of you, at the blunt press of Alejandro's cock choking you in shallow thrusts. 
"Bloody hell—," he groans, head tipping back as he stares at the seal of your pussy taut around the base. "Look'it you. So full of cock. You look like you were made for this, pretty thing."
"Our little slut, eh?" Alejandro huffs, pushing his hips closer to your face as you lap at him. "If her pussy feels as good as her mouth, hermano, I won't last too long."
"Fuck, can't wait to fuck you next," Soap grunts, his hand wrapping around yours as he guides you along, showing you what he likes. "Cannae fuckin—"
Rudy's hand falls to your swaying chest, rubbing your aching nipples as Price begins to fuck you, filling you up over and over again with his fat cock. 
It's good. It's so fucking good. You whine around Alejandro, and feel molten pleasure bloom in your belly as they use you, revere you; eyes fixed on your body as you take them all in. 
"I'm gonna cum soon," Price grunts, his hips pistoning into you hard enough to jar the table. The metal legs grind against the cement floor. The room filled with the scent of sex and the lewd noises that spill from the wet squelch of your cunt greedily swallowing down your captain's cock. The suckling sound of Alejandro fucking your throat. "Look at you, look at this pretty fucking cunt taking me—"
Soap's fingers fall to your clit as Price hits the plug of your womb with the blunt head of his cock, sending pleasure ricocheting down your spine until you're arching off the table. Muscles coil, tightening together as he knocks into the soft walls of your pussy, sending you reeling. 
"Ah, fuck—," Alejandro grunts. "I'm gonna cum, cariño. You'll swallow it for me, eh? Swallow it all—fuck—"
He cums down your throat for the second time, hands stroking your face as he feeds it to you with muttered words in slurred Spanish too fast for you to pick up.
You can't focus. Can't think—
The taste of cum on your tongue, the blissed noses that spill around you, and the way Price fucks you deep, battering against your fluttering walls have you seeing stars. 
You moan, nearly choking on the thick cum that drenches you. Soap leans down, spits on your clit, and rubs the mess in with his fingers. It's feral. It's disgusting—
Your cunt spasms as you're shoved over the precipice, squeezing and throbbing like a heartbeat around the thick plug of Price's cock as he spears it against your womb; a battering ram into your flesh. 
"Jesus, captain," Soap sounds awed, voice pitched low and slurred. "Just givin' it to her, aye?"
"Fuckin' hell—"
He cums inside of you with a grunt of your name draped in liquid sin. Cock twitching deep inside of you, pressed taut to your womb. He holds it there and makes you take it. Drowns your cunt in his thick cum. 
It's wet between your thighs. Your throat clicks when you swallow, nose burning from the flood of briny cum Alejandro poured down your throat. 
Price pulls out slowly, taps the head of his sticky cock against your clit, and you flush at the feeling of him leaking out of you. 
There is no respite. Gaz's hands are on your body, head numb and fuzzy, as they speak about the intricacies of fucking you, of filling you up. 
"Think she's ready for two?"
"Are you?" Soap's fingers fall to your aching cunt, spreading the thick cum around your clit. "Can you take us both?"
"No. Not yet." It's Ghost who speaks, and your belly rolls at the low husk of his voice. 
"Yeah, give her one more." 
Soap's fingers slip into your cunt, and curl against your sensitive walls. "Fuck, captain. You filled her up good."
Rudy's thumb presses against the seam of your mouth, eyes pleading when he stares down at you. His thick cock grasped in his hand. 
You're little more than a ragdoll. An offering between the gods. Soap parts your thighs, head tapping against your throbbing cunt. 
Price leans against a beam close by, eyes burning into you in search of any glimmer of distress. Having him close by calms you. Makes you relax. You settle, mouth popping open for Rudy as Soap pushes himself into your pussy. 
"Fuck, your pussy feels incredible—"
He lets out a string of curses in rapid-fire Scots, burying the full length of himself into your cunt. 
He fucks you like he's aching for it. A madman. His hips bludgeon into you until you're seeing stars, until you're choking around Rudy's cock. It's too much. Too much—
You want more. 
Rudy's hands are gentle on your face, brushing your hair away as he cants his hips. His cock slides over your tongue, and you try to hollow your cheeks, to make it good for him, but the blistering pleasure makes your mouth fall open. 
"It's okay, bonita." He murmurs, resting his head on your tongue as he fists the length of himself. "Just like this, okay? Just like this. Let me—," he fucks into his palm, eyes rolling back as he rubs his weeping slit over your tongue. 
Gaz's hand grabs your swaying breasts in his hand. "I'm gonna fuck your ass next, yeah? Gonna split your little hole open on my cock. You don't want, don't you? Wanna be fucked in all holes, like a little whore."
Fuck. Fuck—
Rudy pushes his cock into your mouth, groaning as molten cum sputters out, drenching your tongue and cheeks. 
"Oh, fuck—," Soap pants, hips slamming into you. His eyes are fixed on your messy face. "You look so fuckin' pretty with cum all over you, so fuckin' good for us, aye?"
His eyes snap shut, brow furrowed in pleasure as he buries the full length of himself inside of your spasming pussy, filling you with another load of cum. 
It's good. It's so good. The sensation of hands on your body isn't foreign anymore. Alejandro moves when Rudy finishes, stroking your hair, and leaning down to kiss your forehead. You go to him eagerly, mouth parting as he slips his softened cock into your mouth. 
Words are murmured around you, grunts and groans of pleasure so robust and full that you clench, aching at the sound of their bliss. 
Fingers on your nipples, your clit, makes you see white. Makes your back arch as liquid pleasure blooms inside your core again. 
Soap pulls out, and you barely have time to mourn the loss of him when Gaz slots between your legs, fingers falling to your ass, and slipping inside with a groan. 
"Nice and loose, now," he purrs, spreading his fingers inside your tight channel. "Gonna fuck this pretty asshole. Gonna fucking ruin you. Alejandro's gonna fuck your pussy after, eh? Maybe me and Price can fill you up at the same time, huh?"
"Gaz," his name is drenched in smoke, a shuddering rumble that stabs tight into your core when Price speaks. Your cunt throbs at the thought. "If you don't hurry up—"
"Alright, alright, cap." 
Rudy's behind you at the head of the table, hands roaming over your skin, smearing cum all over your flesh. He murmurs low, sweet words in Spanish you can't hear over the roaring in your ears when Gaz spreads your legs, cock nudging against your virgin hole. It's comforting, though. His presence is solid. Your hands grip his forearms, whining at the sting, the blunt pressure pushing into you. 
Soap groans. You can hear his voice to your left along with slick sounds of him touching his spent cock. 
"That's so fuckin' hot. Steamin' fucking Jesus—"
You're relaxed enough that Gaz slips inside without much of a burn. It feels strange: a heavy pressure, a slight sting. You're prepared enough that it's more foreign, and uncomfortable than it is painful. But it's—
You moan when his hips buck shallowly, pushing more of him into your asshole. It's weird. It's strange. It's—
"How does it feel, love?"
Price's fingers fall on your throbbing clit. Alejandro's—you think, maybe; you can't see through the blurred tears in your eyes—push into your sopping cunt, groaning wetly at the lewd squelch of the cum inside of you. 
Belly full. A pressure unlike anything you'd felt before. Snug, and tight, and—
"Good," you whimper, arching your back. Your nipples are tugged. Pussy stuffed with three of Alejandro's fingers. Ass full of Gaz when he finally, finally, bottoms out with a moan. "It's so good—"
He fucks you slow, steady. Savouring the tight clench of you around him. 
Price works your clit, murmuring about how good you are. How pretty you look, full of cum and getting your ass stuffed with cock. 
"You were made for this, weren't you? Little cockslut."
It punches the air from your lungs when he hisses it into your ear. 
Gaz pushes the length of himself inside your ass, moaning about how tight you are. How he can't wait to fill you up. His hands fall, sliding over your ass cheeks until he brushes over the rim of your stretched hole, hips stuttering. 
"God," he chokes. "Fuck, you look good."
"Yeah, she does," Soap breathes, hands palming at your body, rough and hot and tacky with his release. They glide up the length of your body, pressing into your swollen mouth. "Open up for me."
His fingers taste of pennies when he pushes them against your tongue, stroking over your flesh. He thrusts them in tandem to the rolls of Gaz's cock splitting you deeply. It's a filthy crescendo of moans, grunts, the sloppy wet sound of your gummy mouth being fucked by three of Soap's fingers, and the lewd, fleshy snap of Gaz's pelvis and thighs slapping against yours. 
Rudy strokes your hair, pushing the tangled mess of it out of your eyes, and murmurs about how good you're being. The soft praise prickles over you like the warm glow from an altar candle. The heat makes your eyes burn, stinging with tears, and you take what they give you, and try not to get lost in the rapture of their flesh staining your skin. 
Price's finger pushes against your sensitive clit. Rudy's soft voice permeates around like burning incense. The heavy weight, the foreign slide, of Gaz stretching your channel makes you keen low in your throat, muffled by the messy drag of Soap's knuckles on the roof of your mouth. 
You cum again, shuddering from the billowing pleasure blanketing you from all sides, and fall into the embrace of Rudy's arms. Price's hands are a plinth on your hips, keeping you up, keeping you grounded, and Gaz works himself to completion, scorched words of bliss spilling from gritted teeth.
Soap leans down, tongue catching the mess spilling from your gaping mouth. Alejandro rubs your fluttering walls. It's intense. Overwhelming. You're surrounded by a dense smog of pleasure and musk: clove cigarettes, bayberry, oakmoss, and the thick tang of a wet, loam and humus forest. 
The drawling moan Gaz lets out makes your core ache. He buries himself deep, hips glued to the plush seam of your ass, and he spills deep inside of you. 
"Joder, cariño, you look good with your ass stuffed, eh?"
You can't speak around Soap's fingers. The only noise that spills is a sloppy, wet moan. 
Gaz presses kisses into your spine, slowly, slowly, pulling out of your ass. 
"Yeah, she does." He slurs, rubbing his chin over the small of your back. "Who's next?" 
Everything blurs into a fever dream of hands and tongues, and the delicious stretch of your cunt, your ass, as they stuff you full of them. Filthy words are whispered into your temple as they grow bolder with your body. 
Price gets you off just by slapping his palm over your clit until you clench around Rudy's cock. Soap licks up your tears, fingers pressed as far down your throat as he can get them, and murmurs how sexy you look full of cum. How he can't get enough of your tight cunt and pretty little hole.
You were made for them, Alejandro whispers, and pulls your hips down until you're seated on his cock. The blunt head of Rudy's cock soon presses to your wet asshole, bottoming out with a deep groan. His hands are reverent as they run across your flesh, choked whimpers falling out about how fucking stunning you look when you're stuffed to the brim. 
You sob between them as they share a messy kiss over your shoulder, grunting into each other's mouths as they ruin you. 
Gaz and Price drag you away soon after they finish, petting your messy hair away from your sticky, sweaty forehead, and splitting you apart between them. You scream into Price's chest as he holds the fat of your ass cheeks open for Gaz to rut into like a man starved for it. Possessed. He coos in your ear when Soap shoves his cock into your gaping mouth, choking you on the thick of him. So fucking good, love. Meant for this. After we'll run you a bath and you sit on my cock while I clean you up, hmm? 
You feel a little stripped down to the marrow, pulverised under their wanting hands; when Price presses into your womb, and cums again. The molten spume inside soothes the throbbing ache of your core. A debauched balm to a raw wound. 
It would be a lie to say you hate the way it feels to be so full of them. To have their taste in your tongue, sticking to the back of your throat, pooling in your belly, your pussy, your guts. You're full and sore and you feel like one massive contusion—broken and battered and barely clinging to sentience—when his cock slips free with a wet squelch. 
It's a little surreal, but—
Comfortable. It shouldn't be. It should be weird, and awkward, and—
Fuck. You had sex with five men in the span of several hours. Your teammates, your captain, no less. And yet. 
You feel full in a way you'd never been before. Satiated and stupidly fucking happy. 
Price snorts when you lay back on the floor, a blissed-out smile tugging on the corners of your mouth.
"Liked it, did you?"
You don't have the capacity for speech. Words escape you. They can't seep through the salty mess in your throat. 
Instead, you moan—low and needy—and feel your belly quiver when Price's eyes flash. Smoke and embers. And when Alejandro groans aloud. When Rudy's hand trembles on your skin. When Soap's hand falls to his spent, softened cock, unable to stop the thrum of desire when you sound like you had the best meal in years. When Gaz shivers, and says please tell me we can play this game more often. 
It's good. It's—
Footsteps. A hush. A shadow falls over you.
Then: "decide to join in, after all, Lt?"
Ghost's hands are hot on your sensitive flesh.
He says nothing as he crouches down on the floor where Gaz and Price dragged you, but his eyes are liquid when he stares at the mess of you. Drenched, you're sure, in cum; it leaks down your chin, out of your sensitive, raw pussy, and your aching hole. Doused in their pleasure, and burning from the sting of their ardour. 
"Fuck, Lt," Soap murmurs, dazed. He'd spent himself on your face only moments ago, and when your glassy eyes fall to him, you find him staring fixed at the apex of your thighs where Ghost slots himself between. "You're gonna ruin her—"
You don't know what he means until you look back. The air in your lungs catches, eyes widening. He's huge. Fat and throbbing, prespend leaks down the absurd length of himself. It twitches when he catches you staring at him, sticky, numbed mouth dropping open. 
His hand slides, fists the base of himself. He taps the head of his cock against your quivering, sloppy cunt. "Can you take me, pet?"
Shit. Shit—
You don't think you can, not at all, but—
Slick noises around you. Grunts of pleasure. Murmured words. They want to see you split apart on his cock. Stuffed full. Your belly lurches. Heat simmers inside of you once again. 
Your trembling eyes find his, and you lay back against the floor, knees parting. Inviting. Your tongue rolls over your bottom lip. 
"Fill me up, sir—"
He snarls. 
Ghost doesn't wait. Doesn't touch you with softness, or reverence. His hands are branding, white-hot, when they fall to your thighs, pushing your knees to your chest. His eyes are glued to the messy seam of your cunt, spilling viscous cum down your ass until it pools below you in a puddle. 
You're wrecked. Ruined. You'd had all of them inside of you—your mouth, your pussy, your ass—except him, and your belly flips, head a muddled slurry of want, want, want as the fat head of his cock slips over the milky mess, catching on your ruined, red hole.
"Thought you got lost, Ghost," Alejandro says, words carrying secrets you can't make sense of. 
He pushes the mushroomed head into your cunt, rumbling at the give of your body as you part for him, sucking him in deep. Ghost fills you up until your belly bulges with the length of him. 
Soap moans at the sight. At the way you take the massive cock burrowing deep inside of you. 
They all seem to be enjoying the way he ruins you. Over the heft of his shoulder, the thick bracket of his arms, you see them all staring at the way he wrecks you. Batters your body with wet, sloppy noises spilling out. 
He fucks you slow: long, deep plunges into your core, gaze sliding in increments to your face, slack and tacky with lashes clumped together with an amalgamation of spittle and cum, and the stretch of your cunt swallowing him to the root. It's intense. Dizzying. 
You feel pushed past your breaking point: overarching beyond the mettle until you're a raw nerve exposed to the corrosive chemicals in the air. Split apart and reassembled into something new and vulnerable. You're chafed and aching, and it edges on painful, and blistering like a third-degree burn being rubbed against rough wool. But despite the sting, the graze still feels good when it itches over your inflamed skin. A balm that burns before it soothes. 
Ghost—Simon, now, you suppose since he's currently eight inches deep inside of your sore cunt—seems to somehow know. Maybe it's the hoarse crackle in your throat when he hits you deeply, or the exhausted droop of your eyes when he presses his weight against you, filling you up until he sits heavy in your chest, but he takes pity on your poor, battered body bursting with the molasses thick heft of euphoria that congeals inside of your marrow. His thrusts are punctured by the soft way he gazes at you. A physical weight to his stare slams into your chest with each roll of his hips, nudging you back to that steep precipice you'd dropped from so many times you'd lost count. 
The dance is familiar. 
But the gentle, almost possessive, way he touches you isn't. 
"Fuck, Lt. Can see you bulging through her belly." 
Soaps words are met with a rasping snarl, a brutal piston of his cock into your gummy, wrung-out walls. A hand falls to your belly, feeling the swell, and the pressure has phosphenes burning your eyelids when they snap shut at the heavy mist of pleasure that falls on you. 
You don't think you can cum again. Your head is a slurry of intense pleasure: gummy and stupid on the way they fucked the sense out of you. Synopses misfire. You feel like you're barely cognisant anymore. 
It's not good enough, though. 
His fingers find your clit, pressing against the tender nub until you're bucking against him, trying to get away from the agonising euphoria pounding through your core. 
"I want to feel you cum on my cock, pet." 
You can't—
You really can't. But he doesn't relent. He shoves himself into your quivering cunt until you see stars flash across your eyes, and the scent of nirvana permeates in the air. 
If you won't go willingly to the vertiginous edge, he'll drag you there instead.
A sharp thrust has your mind whiting out; the overstuffed feeling of being stretched to the brim sits heavy in your core. Your nails press into his shoulders, desperate to hang on to something tangible, real. They dig deeper until the moons flood with blood. It makes him groan—deep, low; rucked coals over open flames—and the noise has you reaching for Orion with your bare hands, mouth dropped low to catch the cosmic dust that permeates in the air between you. 
"Fuck—" a sharp whimper has him huffing into your neck, a satisfied noise he can't bite off, can't stifle. 
He likes it. Likes spreading you open, and watching you squirm. Likes the flash of pain that flickers across your face when he first kisses your drenched core with the fat head of his cock. Eyes wide, fixed on the scrunch of your brow, the wrinkles in your nose, the deep, punctured gasps that spill from your gaping mouth—he misses nothing, stare branding you.
It's the thick of him when it splits you apart, breaks you in half, that really captures his full attention. Stuffed to the brim, and clawing at him for respite from the way he fits inside of you; he takes it all in. Eyes never wavering. Liquid want flooding the bottom ring of his lower eyelids, a molten pool half hidden behind his lash line. He gazes down at you, fans of ash cresting over. 
And then when he bottoms out, when his cock is fully seated inside of your body that struggles to make room to fit him, he lifts his gaze. A perfect polynya. He stares at you, then, watching—almost placidly, impassively—as you grit your teeth from the burn of taking him to the root. A slow roll of his hips to test your mettle; a harsh grind of his cock nestled taut against the plug of your womb. It has you singing. 
A test of the water. A battering of the futile clutch you have over your sangfroid. He won't start until it breaks. Until it shatters. 
His hands are hot when they grasp the soft skin behind your knees, pointing them down toward your swaying chest as he fucks you open in deep, almost languid cants of his hips until you're grabbing at the ground, and mewling his name. Broken, now, by his cock. 
Simon is a storm. 
A gale. He ravages you until you're dizzy with the brutal way he takes you—and takes, takes, takes —and begging for mercy. 
None comes. 
You can't barter with a typhoon. Can't make deals with a hurricane. 
It hits. Breaching your shores with enough force to ruin. 
"Simon," it is whispered low, constricted. The air in your lungs is liquifying; condensation builds until you're choking. 
Another huff. He thrusts harder, head notching into something that has you lurching forward, forehead pressing into his shoulder. You spasm around him until he growls in your ear. 
His thighs widen, pitching his hips low as fucks into you, a touch savage. Your leg slips from his hold, the back pressed against the muscles of his beneath you. The coarse hair of his legs tickles your flesh. Goosebumps erupt. You shiver. 
The breath you gasp in is wispy, and thin. It isn't enough to quench the ache in your chest, but nor is it enough to truly let you slip into the throes of hypoxia. He brings you to the brink, lets you gaze over the edge of that unknown abyss, but refuses to let you any further. His grip is unyielding. It burrows into you. 
Like this, with black moulting over your vision and phosphenes glimmering in the cosmic yonder that stretches out in front of you, you can feel everything. There is a startling clarity that rocks through you. You can feel each ridge and vein of his cock as he slams it into you, prying your walls open as he steals all the air from your lungs.
He cums with a grunt that sounds like it was dragged through barbed wire. Liquid pleasure blooms when you feel him twitch inside of you, and all you can do is cling to his massive shoulders as he rides you through the throes of bliss battering into your core. 
Eyes drink you in: wide in the pale moonlight that spills from the window, cut at the bridge of his nose by the mask, jowls snapping at you. He's bathed entirely in black; drenched in tenebrose. A Stygian being looming over you, taking its wares from the tight clutch of your body, and forcing the air from your lungs until it's filled with the scent of him, and nothing more. 
"You look good like this," he murmurs, eyes fever red and cosmic black. "Fuckin' hell, pet. You were made to be fucked, weren't you?" 
Your eyes roll back into your head at the gruff sin leaking from behind his mask. 
"Yes," you whimper, voice shredded and wrecked. He's not the only one who groans at the sound of you, ruined and aching. "Fuck, I love your cocks—"
It feels like the end. Like you'd been spat out on the wrong side of a tornado, and thrust into a battle you weren't, entirely, prepared for. 
But you won. There is victory in the ache that thunders through your joints. A hard-fought war that left you a victor in the middle of a burning no man's land. 
You can hear them around you. Price stroking your hair, and whispering about how good you were. Gaz and Soap huffing with exhausted laughter that sounds a touch delirious, as if they still couldn't quite wrap their heads around the act they were buried balls deep inside of you mere moments ago. 
Alejandro and Rudy mutter to each other in blistered Spanish. You hear the clink of bottles as they toast each other over a victory, and a fucking gangbang. 
They take turns touching you. Caring for you. Rudy makes you drink water, eyes melted chocolate—glossy and sleek with the remnants of pleasure. Aqui. He says, pressing the cool bottle to your sweat-slicked forehead. Aquas. Drink up, mi corazón. 
Alejandro supports your shoulders when you struggle to sit up and take a sip. Gaz has a towel pressed to your cheeks, cleaning up the flaking mess of dried cum and sweat. Soap's hands clench yours tight when the bottle shakes in your grasp. Price is there to hold it steady. 
Ghost hasn't taken his eyes off of you once since this started. You meet his stare, gloaming light shading everything in gold. He tips his chin. A promise in the obsidian cut of his eyes. 
Thought you got lost, Ghost—
Gaz huffs. Gems shatter. Crushed into shards that sit in the palm of your hand, waiting to be reassembled. 
(Someday, you think.)
"Best game of never have I ever, ever." 
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  "So….," Soap slurs, cheeks pink and eyes swimming with incipient desire. "Round two?"
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turannoktonos · 5 months
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Aka...the aftermath :)
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popcaki · 6 months
Simon ''Ghost'' Riley
He's an artist
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he's also autistic and he secretly likes pink he also designed his own tattoo
edit: yeah that's Soap and Rudy
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deadbranch · 2 days
Writing smut is so much fun. Enjoy this disembodied line of WIP:
He yields as though he’d been waiting for her to take control.
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