therealist157x - Tumblr blog

therealist157x · 5 months ago

Text

Rising Waters, part 6

141 x witch!reader | old gods of appalachia au cw: supernatural elements, mentions of religion, monsters (kind of), implied/referenced stalking, obsessive behavior

You could feel it in your bones, that awful itch that screamed at you to banish whatever had come onto the property. From where you laid, bound in chains, you were helpless. A sitting duck, a rabbit in a snare, waiting for the hunter to come and bleed you dry.

Price had been the only one to show you some semblance of kindness after the...unpleasantness of the day prior. He seemed to be the voice of reason. But the idea of calling his name like a damsel in distress grated against your nerves and your precious pride.

Still, you had little choice in what else to do, because whatever had passed over the wards was getting closer and did not have good intentions.

You took a breath, bottling your ego. “Price!”

There wasn’t much urgency in your voice, as you made yourself sound meeker than necessary. Demure was the word your mama would have used. You just hoped he came to your call.

The sound of boots against the creaking floors had hope blooming in your chest. It vanished when Soap opened the door, now wearing a white tank top that looked ready to burst at the seams.

“He’s busy,” Soap stated.

You could smell the cigar smoke that said otherwise, but you kept nice — demure.

"I need let up,” you said softly, your lashes fluttering in a rather pathetic attempt to persuade him. "Something’s wrong with the wards.”

Soap smirked, bearing slightly-too-sharp canines, and you knew he'd be no help. The crucifix around his neck that glinted in the low light explained why. This was why you wanted Price. Gaz had proven he would never believe you, Ghost would probably stuff a gag down your throat to shut you up, and Soap was Catholic. He would probably burn you at the stake if given the chance.

Your daddy had dragged you and mama to church on occasion — Christmas and Easter, specifically, as if that would atone for his sins — but it was not the kind of church Soap most likely attended. You understood that the pastor of your mountain church that had baptized you in a river and let rattlesnakes crawl all over him was not the same as Soap’s priest in his fancy church.

But you knew the Bible. You even used it for spells and such. Maybe that could help your case? Probably not.

“Please.” You hated begging. You were better than that. “Something is outside.”

Soap tilted his head at that. “What is it?”

He wasn't concerned or rushed, merely curious.

"I don't know,” you sighed. "Let me up and I can go—“ Soap scoffed. “—look out a window.”

The last bit was said through gritted teeth, frustration and fraying nerves simmering beneath the falling mask of sweetness.

Soap, for his part, seemed at least intrigued, almost convinced yet still taking his time. The sound of heavy footfalls drew his attention away and his head turned away to look at whoever stood just next to the doorway.

“Bonnie says there’s something’ outside,” Soap explained.

You could hear Price hum and your heart began beating a bit faster.

“That right, love?” Price peaked his head in.

Desperation was dripping down your face and beading your brow.

“Please,” you begged. “It’s getting closer.”

You hated begging, but you hated it even more when Price came next to the bed and put a hand on your cheek. Was it to comfort you? Calm you down? You weren't sure, but the coolness felt incredible on your flushed skin. For both the chill and persuasion, you keened into his hand and looked up at him through your fluttering eyelashes.

“It’s getting closer,” you whispered.

He watched for a minute. A few precious moments in which the thing got closer and that itch got worse.

Your body was shaking with anticipation when he finally pulled the key from his pocket. Soap watched, clearly surprised and probably thinking that you had bewitched his captain somehow. You tried to rush to the door when the chains came off, but Price caught your elbow, This would be done military style.

Nothing was spotted from the back or sides, but from the front window, you could all see a man walking up the gravel path.

“You know him?” you asked.

You already knew the answer was yes, since Soap was practically growling, ready to pounce like a dog on prey.

“‘Course we do,” Price huffed. “Meet the second half of the name: Phillip Graves.”

You’d heard of the man, of course, the right hand and enforcer of the company, but seeing him up close was…unsettling. He wore a dark suit and long coat, similar to what Price and them had been wearing the other night. Except Graves’ clothes didn’t seem to fit him quite right. It was too big in some places and too small in others. That was probably why he wore a bigass coat in the early fall heat.

That, and to hide the darkness writhing beneath his skin.

You reach for the knob but Ghost caught your wrist.

“Not happening,” he warned.

“I need to banish him,” you whispered, as if Graves could hear you. “He’s already gotten too close.”

"Let her go, Price said, sounding almost confident in you.

Ghost, Soap, and Gaz gawked at Price.

"What if she runs?” Gaz asked.

Price looked at you, clearly holding back a smirk. “She won't."

You hated that he was right.

Ghost stood by the window with a rifle, hidden the curtain and with Soap at his side. Gaz stood by the door, and Price simply watched.

The air was heavy, charged, feeling similar to how it was just before the storm. You took a breath before going outside, just as Graves approached the porch.

He looked up and gave what looked like a painful and rather forced smile.

“Hello ma’am.” His voice was southern, Texan, but had an odd pull behind it, almost like a record player on its last legs or a fiddle with strings pulled taut. “My name is Phillip Graves and I’m a representative of Shepherd & Graves Mining Combine. “I am looking for four men. They haven’t come by here have they?”

Relief, then confusion flooded your senses. Did he not know who you were? Obviously, it was good that he didn’t, but how did he not know that you were the woman he and his business partner wanted dead?

"Can't say I have,” you sighed. "Don't get many visitors out here, and with that storm a few days ago…” You winced sympathetically. “I would guess they’re with the angels now.”

Graves looked around as he dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief, surveying the land. You knew, all at once, that he did not recognize you but did know that the four men he was looking for were in the house.

Graves finally turned back around, now with somehow even more sweat on his brow. It trickled down past his temples and soaked into his collar. Even from where you stood, you could see his damp eyebrows and sweat-slicked hair.

"You mind if I come inside?” he asked, getting closer. “It is mighty hot out here.”

Phillip Graves put one foot on the bottom step.

"No,” you stated, and the wards began to shimmer and thrum as he dropped the act, his eyes narrowing and smile turning into something akin to a snarl. “You are not welcome here. I close my—“

A gunshot rang out and Graves exploded into a mess of black ichor. It sprayed across the yard and onto the porch steps, looking similar to the black bile Soap had thrown up the day prior. Only this began to writhe and scream now that it was under the sunlight. The pieces moved like worms to desperately get back into one once more. It squelched and screeched, twisting itself into a horde before darting into the woods, now a black undulating mass that would terrorize the wildlife before finding its way beneath the mountain again.

Soap tried to go after it, but was held back by Ghost, who seemed to know that the thing couldn’t be killed.

As you stood on the porch, staring at where the swarm had gone, you thought of running.

Despite what just happened you still weighed your options. You could stay or take your chances and attempt to run back your—

Shit. You still had nothing to run back to. All running would do now is make them angry and put you without protection. You needed to to get rid of them.

They were all staring at you when you turned around. None of them looked particularly impressed or even surprised by what happened, least of all Price, who you had looked to first.

“A thank you’d be nice,” you mumbled, shifting uncomfortably on your feet.

Price looked around then offered a small nod. “Sure.”

The lump that had formed in your throat was uncomfortably shoved down. It took another for you to find your words, because sure wasn’t good enough.

“If I hadn’t banished him, then—“

“We’d’ve handled it,” Ghost finished.

You stared at him, unease settling heavy in your gut. One doesn’t simply “handle” the swarm. It wasn’t some common haint that could be dealt with using iron or silver or a ring of salt.

Your eyes darted between the men as they all watched you with seemingly matching dead eyes, waiting.

“Then why—“

“Wanted to see how you’d handle it.” Price approached you slowly, like you were an animal he’d cornered. “You did a good job, love.”

A shiver went through your whole body when he put his hands on your arms to anchor you to the spot. You would’ve stayed put anyways. No more running. You’d kill these not-men.

Price watched the girl in front of him with a guarded, if not pensive, expression. She had proven to be more useful than any of them truly anticipated. He had to admit, he was initially skeptical about supposed “wards” since it was just nails in a jar. When they had proven to work more than causing a headache – when she blew the thing that occupied the body of what once was Phillip Graves to hell – Price decided she was useful.

The others were still wary, Soap especially, but that was only because of his good Catholic boy upbringing. Gaz and Ghost were coming around. Fortunately, Soap usually went along with whatever Ghost decided, so if his former lieutenant saw use in the witch, then he did too.

“Why don’t we go back inside, love?” Price suggested.

She planted her feet and gave a withering, terrified glare. They could all sense the gears turning in her head.

“He didn’t recognize me.” Her voice trembled with the terror that had taken root.

A nonchalant shrug from Price seemed to only agitate her more, but he was determined to take back control of the situation. He had been getting better at it these days.

“No one knew what you looked like. Just that you were out here, all alone.”

Her eyes flickered to the three men behind him. Of course, she was met with hungry stares. He didn’t have to turn around to know that Gaz’s fingers were twitching and Soap was working his jaw to dust. Ghost had a handle on things, so Price trusted him to keep the other two at bay.

“Sure.” She nodded, trying to put the truth from her head. “It still doesn’t make a whole lotta sense that–”

They all made a noise that could be compared to laughing, and it only made her more uneasy. She shifted her foot back in such a slight way that she assumed none of them noticed.

“Not much sense in any of this,” Ghost reminded her.

Price nodded in agreement, needing to get her off the scent for a while longer. “Let’s go back inside.”

His hand found the small of her back and he savored the shiver he felt go down her spine. There was no fuss when was herded back into the cabin, probably since she knew running would just land her back in chains. Although, it was just instinct for cowardly, skittish little things like her to try to run when no one was looking. Price was confident, though, that it could be nipped in the bud sooner rather than later. They’d come too far for her to ruin this.

For weeks after that botched ritual, they had been watching her, slowly developing their own little world from the moment they saw her tending to the little garden next to her cabin. A light at the end of the horrid existence they now knew. They created a story about what she was like, how she behaved, and they knew they had to have her.

It wasn’t normal, and they knew that. But they also knew what had crawled in and made homes inside of them wasn’t entirely normal either. It had been there for a while, that rot found in the bottom of the abyss. They had been dragged down a long time ago, long before the dark had really taken root, and now somehow, some way, they were going to drag her down too.

143 notes · View notes

therealist157x · 5 months ago

Text

Puppy Soap Week

Day Five - Scent Kink

CW : Scenting, grinding/humping, slight mention of anal, frot (rubbing their dicks together, pretty much)

Word Count : 1.2k

A/N : This was a last minute finish, legit just finished it because I got highly side tracked today but alas, it is done! Enjoy <3

“Johnny? Did you forget your fucking scent blockers?”

They were both already tense, sitting in the middle of nowhere with their tactical gear strapped onto them. Sweat clung to their overheated bodies, and Johnny panted softly to try to cool himself down.

“I… they are here somewhere. The last ones I put on must have worn off…” Johnny mumbles, starting to dig through the different pockets on his vest. Sweat was starting to pool along his browline, his lip getting caught in his teeth as he struggled to find his scent blockers. “Fuck… Si, do you have any?”

“I don’t have none on me… Are you sure they aren’t in the back pockets? Here, lemme check.” Johnny spun around, sitting with his back to Simon as he pried through each pocket, trying to find even just one last pack of scent blockers for him to get them past the rest of this mission.

“Fucking hell… there should be some!!” he cries, his tail falling between his legs and his ears pressed against his head. “If I don’t have any-”

“Shh… we’ll figure this out. Just don’t panic, or you’ll make your scent spike.”

“Si, if anyone gets close enough or as soon as the wind picks up in the wrong direction we’re fucked!”

Simon opens his mouth to argue with him, to try and make him feel better about their current situation, only to be interrupted by their comms sparking to life.

‘Oi, you boys doing alright?’ Price’s voice echoes through.

Simon sighed softly before grabbing his comms. “We’re alright at the moment. Johnny’s out of scent blockers, if the wind picks up they’ll be able to smell us.”

There were a few moments of silence before the comms system crackled to life again. ‘Get somewhere safe. Find a building you both can hide in so the wind can’t get to you. It should help dampen his scent. Stay safe, boys.’

“Got it, Cap. We’ll be careful.” Simon mutters into the comms before letting go and sitting back with a sigh. “Alright… let’s get you somewhere safe.”

Simon stands, and Johnny follows, beginning their hike to the safe house. The sun keeps biting at their exposed skin, like daggers to their eyes. Their legs start to ache. The climb is continuously uphill, with nothing but dry dirt and rocks to help them up further.

Johnny pants softly behind Simon, sweat now soaking into his gear. “Almost there, aren’t we, Si?”

“A little further… There's a small abandoned home up here somewhere. It’s good enough to stay in, it’ll be safe and away from the enemy.”

Johnny nods, trying to conserve his energy for the walk. The walk becomes almost silent except for the soft wind playing with Johnny’s hair.

Johnny lets out a long sigh of relief once the building comes into view: a small, worn-down house, its windows boarded up and the paint peeling off the panels along the outside.

“Fucking hell, never thourght I’d be so glad to see such a disaster,” Johnny mumbles as they step into the house, the floorboards creaking under their feet.

“She ain’t that bad; she’d do well with a bit of fixing,” Simon replies, his gloved hand tracing the splintering wood, watching as it almost falls apart in his hands.

“Can’t fix everything,” Johnny mutters and is met with a glare from Simon. He laughs as he rushes upstairs to get away from the slap he is about to receive. He rushes into one of the bedrooms, the back of his knees hitting the mattress and making him fall onto the bed. A gasp escaped his lips, his eyes widening as Simon followed, and they soon found themselves laying on the bed together, Simon caging Johnny’s form beneath him. “Fucking hell… Sir.”

Simon chuckles softly, moving his arms up further to cage his head in. He leans down, his eyes catching on Johnny's and both of their breathing hitches.

“Fuck, Johnny…” he growls, his scent wafting onto him as the spike of arousal hits him. He leans down further, burying his face into Johnny’s neck and inhaling his sweet scent, laced with arousal. With a smirk, he pulls off the old scent-blocking patch and licks the scent gland softly, basking in the way he purrs and reacts to him.

“Simon…” Johnny whines, his hips pressing up to meet Simon’s in a desperate attempt to get any sort of friction. His face was etched with desperation, panting and whining as he almost struggled to roll his hips, his crotch catching on his thigh.

“Shh, come now, pup,” Simon mutters, gently cupping his cheek in his palm, leaning down and pressing his lips against Johnny's. His tongue delves into his mouth, licking at Johnny’s tongue and drinking in his moans.

The room starts to fill with a thick, sweet scent. Johnny’s scent of arousal was becoming stronger, clogging Simon’s nose to the point he could barely think, only one thing in his mind. Johnny. How Johnny smelled, how he tasted, how he felt. His brain was latched onto the very thought of him, the world closing in on him until it was only him and Johnny. No one else; that’s all he needed.

He pulls up to admire him for a moment, panting with sweat dripping off his skin before leaning back down, stuffing his head in Johnny’s neck until his scent made him dizzy, now struggling to hold himself up over him.

“Si-” Johnny gasps as Simon’s weight suddenly falls on top of him with a sigh, too heavy to move off of him. As he struggles beneath him, something hard and warm rubs against his crotch, and he instantly groans, immediately rolling his hips against Simon’s as best as he can. “F-fuck.. Si…” he groans, already reaching down to undo his pants, then Simon’s.

Whines and mewls escape his lips as he starts rocking his hips, rubbing his aching cock along Simon’s, watching as their pre mixes along their stomach’s. Once Simon’s hips start lazily grinding, he moans loudly, letting his head fall back as pleasure ripples along his spine. He grabs Simon’s hips, squeezing roughly and letting his nails dig into his flesh.

His eyes widen as he hears the small moans spilling from Simon’s lips, something he doesn’t get to hear often. Usually it's his normal grunts and groans, never an actual moan. The newly discovered sound only spurred him on, rolling his hips faster, panting and moaning with wild abandon.

He pauses for a moment as Simon suddenly moves a bit, adjusting himself before laying back down on top of him. Johnny opens his mouth to protest, but then he notices the loss of warmth from Simon’s cock against his own, now sitting by his hole. His mouth goes dry as he watches Simon bring his fingers to his lips, spitting on them, then pressing them against his ass.

“Deep breath.”

Johnny shudders, taking a deep breath, his own scent filling his nose. Enough to make his mind hazy, just as his finger pushes past.

102 notes · View notes

therealist157x · 5 months ago

Text

director!konig 🗡 (🌽 link)

after a long time in the industry, porn director!konig stopped choosing the actresses for his movies personally. when he started, he did, like the little pervert he actually is, but the same old thing ends up getting boring, and it's not as exciting as it once was.

but there is an exception: if he sees your name between the one's that applied for the audition, man will be at the place where auditions are held in the blink of an eye, sitting behind the desk in that room with and autoritative air to him.

all of that because you are his sweet eye candy, the one he loves to get a taste of with the excuse of making sure that you are going to be at the level he requires. making you strip down as he spreads his legs wider to make sure that you get to see his rock hard cock.

it never stops at just stripping. he makes you finger yourself in front of him. 'gotta make sure that you will play the scene nicely' he says, as he rubs his bulge through his jeans. getting up one he sees you are about to cum, kneeleing in front of you and replacing your fingers with his mouth. eating you out as he starts getting rid of his clothes. that first orgasm he pulls out to of you only the first of many, since he makes you stand up before him, making you arch your back as he pushes himself in.

you don't get the role, but that's because he would rather be the one fucking you instead of some lame excuse of a bloke.

504 notes · View notes

therealist157x · 5 months ago

Text

15. 5. 25

The day Johnny became Riley and Simon became MacTavish. No family, no reception, no song and dance, no loud sobs from drunk aunts and uncles. Just me and him. Simple gold wedding bands and the mates as our official witnesses. Price and Gaz dawned their official military service uniforms and barrets. He wore a simple black suit and a nice button down. He spent, lord knows how many hours, in the chair covering up his scars. Going as far as using Liquid Latex and concealer. I won't deny that he looks dashing as Lucifer but I can't wait to peel them off later tonight. He wanted to look his best and I could tell he misses looking the way he did. Me and him, together in the courthouse, with the magistrate in his powdered wig and lordly robes the lads standing in attention behind us. His hands shake and sweat as he maintains his cool before everyone.

This is the man I love and this scene encapsulates everything I love about him. He's still and collected yet he’s so stressed and nervous when he holds my hands. He took the time to look his best for the pictures and he finally did his hair. While the magistrate is announcing our vows I squeeze his hands in reassurance. A deep breath fills his chest and as he exhales I can feel his hands relaxing.

“Sir groom, Announce your wedded name before this court and God as your Witness” the magistrate boomed, he clearly was enjoying himself.

“ I, Jonathan William Riley, take my hand before god in matrimony to my Wedded Simon Jackson MacTavish”

His smile beamed as he eagerly addressed simon

“Now YOU! Sir Groom, Announce your wedded name before this court and before God as your witness”

He paused and collected his breathing.

“ I, Simon Jackson Mactavish, take my hand before God in Matrimony to my Wedded Jonathan William Riley.”

“Sires, Riley and MacTavish, This court has the most profound honour of officiating our first groomsmen union, and by the Power vested in me by Law and Lord, I hereby pronounce you Sir MacTavish and Riley!”

It sounds so unreal, my heart can't seem to sit still. After all we went through, all that we suffered and everyone we’ve lost, and finally, it's all over.

“You may now kiss the Groom!’ He seems more excited about this than we are.

His baby blue eyes glisten like baby’s breath. His pretty dirty blonde hair that he's finally allowing to grow out. Just the right amount of scruff for me to handle. He's still taller than me but the view I have is like looking at heaven itself. The stained glass window with the high noon sun glistening through shines down on him as if God blessed me with my very own angel.

One hand on my waist and the other at the back of my neck he brings me close in his embrace and pulls my head for the most passionate kiss we’ve ever shared. When he reluctantly let me go, Price and Gaz gave their thunderous applause of approval and Gaz, respecing the uniform, cheered politely.

All these feelings rushed into my head and I nearly fell over. As he hold me tight the magistrate comes down from his podium and presents us with a thick certificate.

There in beautiful calligraphy were our names. Our new names. This wasn't just a marriage certificate, it was our ticket to a brand new life. The anxiety definitely hits me as we pay our fine and rush home. For the past month, I have been living on a housing stipend in Yorkshire at a very comfortable Flat. 3 beds, 2 baths.

We pull into the driveway and sit there. I start feeling giddy, like a kid who hit his first goal, on top of the world.

“So, Mr. MacTavish, What's the plan for the evening?”

I can tell he's excited, like a kid at christmas. That same energy bubbles in my chest and he reaches for my leg

“Well, Mr. Riley, According to tradition, The husband carries the bride through the threshold”

He gets out the car and practically runs across to my side and rips the door open, yet as quickly as this man ran, he gently offered his hand out for me, pulled me out and in a fluid motion swung me off my feet, i easily 95 kg but to him i might've been as light as air.

This must be those butterflies, Grace told me about. This Dizzy feeling that comes from being loved. We get to the door and he kicks it open, in his proud moment of masculine energy i think

‘ Did we leave the door open and unlocked? Or did he break my door’

He stands at the threshold of the house and looks down, looks into my eyes, faces forward and steps into the house. The life he lived before is finally over, no more nightmares alone, no more sleepless nights, no more empty beds. This was a moment for us but this was the biggest accomplishment for him. As I'm still in his arms I lean in for a hug and hold him close to me.

“You know what else is tradition, Mr. Riley?”

“What, Y’know i've always beena hands on learner, Mr. MacTavish.”

He sets me on the ground and holds me in for a kiss, his powerful body locks me in so intensely that breaking away was neither allowed nor advised. We passionately make out and stumble onto the bed, ripping each other's clothes off. Aside from his cologne and the scent of spring outside the cracked window, the room smelled sweet. Like lavender and roses.

He pulls himself up on top of me and looks down. His eyes were lost in what I only could describe as wonder, lust, and adoration. A piece of the Latex peels off from his hairline and toss it aside.

“You didn't need to go through all that babe. “

“I know, but I wanted good pictures. Without a reminder of the past. Cuz, from now on, you and nothing but you, are my future”

The last words spoken by my MacTavish and I, His Riley loss in his poetry spent the time and consummate our marriage. Deep, Passionate, Rough and yet, Sad, gentle and mournful. As all change is, we rejoiced in our new union and mourned what we were, if only to enjoy our shared sunrises to come.

For as passionate as our love was, I couldn't help but ache when I arose to wash up. In the passing mirror I caught a glimpse of my condition.

“Dude, What the FUCK Simon!!!”

He jolted at my cry and rushed over, only to laugh at the mess before him. Covered in bruises, bites and scratches, our union was now truly marked.

“Hehe, sorry babe, i was hungry”

“This isnt Fuckin’ funny Si, I have a thing today!!!” I say wincing while examining my collar bone.

“IS THIS FUCKIN BLOOD??!!”

“I said I was hungry..” he said, taking a piss next to me.

“Youre so un-fucking-believable” This is marriage. Now I understand when Ma said marriage is hard. Yet as I left the bathroom wiping my neck and checking the scabs that began to form I saw something on the kitchen table.

They were our Black letters with a note from the Captain.

----------------------------------------------------

You lads deserve each other. From an old Army Dog I wish a peaceful civilian life for the both of you. These are a reminder of how you two have grown and how you need to help each other. Hold him tightly and never forget .

------------------------------------

"what's that? " My MacTavish asked flushing the toilet and scruffing his hair. I didn't know what was in this letter and something told me I never wanted to know.

"just the morning post love, nothin more"

As I took out the trash and said farewell to the Black letter and sighed as I walked back home. At that moment as I saw my husband in our kitchen making coffee, complaining about not having a proper tea, I could never imagine a world where I would have to read what was in that letter. And now, I never need to.

Final entry 16. 5. 25

Johnathan William Riley

#cod ghost #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty ghost #cod fanart #ghost x soap #soap call of duty #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #good ending

18 notes · View notes