A lover of all things strange and unusual. On Tumblr back, in like, 2014 for all the depressing stuff, and I'm back at it again *finger guns here*
Inspiring writer. Weird personality. First fanfictional love was Twilight (I know). Wrote my first fanfiction at 11 about Jacob and OC (who definitely was inspired by the one and only). Blade 1 &2, Interview With A Vampire (movie), Van Helsing are some other great loves that I happily worshipped as a young warthog.
Currently in the beginning stages of my new love, a Witch and Warrior, Lovers, Husband and Wife, Mother and Father, must confront their past to find their kidnapped child. A war awaits - and it demands fresh blood. Inspired by religious mythology (Lilith, Eve, Adam, Samael) (angels, demons, monsters, curses, sisters sworn to be enemies and brothers destined to perish. Parents sworn to sacrifice their children and the hell that it will cause when you don't).
Whiiiile figuring out all the odds and ins, I'm also writing fanfiction to get back in the groove of writing itself! My main focus is COD. No particular reason. Gotta love men with muscles who whimper. Love reading works. Eventually, worms will worm around and I have to get them out. I also enjoy The Pitt, Heated Rivalry and others. I use this blog for writing but I'm also using it as a personal blog too. Thanks for being here!
I support writers of all kinds. Dark, strange, mysterious, calm, cool, collected, detailed, spacious, lavish, minimalist, dedicated, and sporadic. I don't support AI. I don't support stealing works to feed the machines. I support a free Palestine. I also like requests, suggestions, thoughts, feelings and purging.
Take care!
List of works and other odds and ins:
All works are 18+, MDNI!
Bark like a God - Dark fic, bad stuff, noncon, Dead Dove, Don't Consume! (Simon Ghost Riley x Reader x unwilling participant)
Sequel/Prequel to Bark Like a God: Monster, May I?
Nobody's Perfect - Angst, infidelity, hurt no comfort, Dead Dove (Johnny Soap MacTavish x Reader)
You're Mine - "Do you want to make out?" (Simon Ghost Riley x Reader)
Butcher and his Bird - Dead Dove, sexual assault (not an ongoing thing in this fic, not between Simon Riley x Reader), cussing, Butcher Simon Riley, sweet sad Reader
Fighter AU meets Soulmate AU - at a fight, Kyle Gaz Garrick meets his soulmate...as you're fighting in the ring for a championship (this isn't a fic but an idea I posted and WILL write!!) (Kyle is intimidating to write - so many people love him (as they should!) And I'm such a lover for dark Gaz...give me manipulative Gaz...give me bad boy Gaz... BUT this is not that. This is loverboy Gaz and I NEED to get him right)
Husky!ReaderxWolf!Simon - a little hybrid au I have tumbling around in my dome. A bit 141 action going on.
A little bit of GazxReaderxSimon hybrid!au (because what a delicious combo!)
All that she wants is (another) baby - a baby fic!
It Takes a Team - soap x Reader, 141 x Reader, smutsmutsmut
Alpha!Simon x Beta!Reader
You weren't supposed to find out - cheating fic between John Price x Reader (Part 2) (part 3)
Alone - Idea inspired from the TV show, contestant enters the Alaskan wilderness for appreciation; the 141 certainly feels the same
That's about it, I think! More to come
(Banner by @/ilium-ilia, again, such a great set for gremlins and goblins to use! The whole set is here!)
Demons and monsters that torture people because they feed on human suffering are so dumb. People are suffering everywhere my guy go literally any place and take a deep whiff.
Monster that feeds on suffering becomes a professional caretaker for people with chronic pain and terminal illnesses. They can't change the fact that these people are suffering, but they help a bit and in the meantime they're fat and happy off that Sweet Sweet ambient pain in the air.
Two towns over there's a demon lord trying to get their cult to abduct people for torture, but they keep getting stopped by heroes and the like, so they're barely scraping by. Meanwhile Belogarth the Registered PCA is chowing down on back pain, medication side effects and looming mortality for eight hours a day and has become the most powerful demon on earth without realizing it.
Finally a medical professional who believes that they are in pain. Because the fucker is actively chowing down on your agony. Not only am I going to get treated by them I'm going to invite all of my chronically ill friends to come as well.
Turns out if you treat the pain then the humans will bring you more humans who are suffering. It's like a restaurant where the waiter is so impressed by your ability to eat food they're giving you more on the house
They say things like "well, it's a real feast day for Belogarth today!" and "if my meds are held up at customs again I'm gonna put Belogarth in a food coma" and Belogarth is the one feeling weird about it
Unless you are writing a poly 141 fic or the fic is specifically about Gaz—
STOP FILLING GAZ’S TAGS WITH YOUR BS.
I could write a fvcking essay about how using the singular black characters tag to promote your fic about Simon or anyone else in the 141 (anyone who’s not fvcking gaz) is a MACRO aggression. Y’all already don’t gaf about him so have some fvcking decency for the ppl who DO want to read his fics.
simon ‘ghost’ riley genuinely the type of man to tell his s/o to stop teasing him.
meanwhile his s/o is simply eating the takeout he just got them in their jammies, fresh out the shower while watching their fav show sitting in the most heinous shrimp position.
they’re wondering wtf is he talking about while he’s only a few seconds away from ripping his clothes off and taking them on the couch.
its even worse if he just came back from a mission.
he has to stop himself from letting out a loud moan when he spots his s/o cooking up something in the kitchen, wearing what they call their ‘ugly clothes’ cause it’s laundry day, it’s obvious that they haven’t had a chance to shower and they’re even wearing their thick lens glasses because they ran out of their contacts just the other day.
they have to bat him off with whatever kitchen utensils they’re using because they know he’ll just take them right then and there on the counter or even snatch them up to their bedroom.
and they cannot let that happen again after the last time. their kitchen almost burnt down because they forgot to turn off the stove.
he just loves seeing his lover at their most comfortable, especially around him.
They don't stop by your house when they first land down.
It's not that they don't want to. Of course they want to, love. They want to hold you, kiss you, snuggle their babies, and make promises that they know they can't keep. Not yet. Maybe not ever, but they can't worry about that now. They can't fathom the very thought of that right now. They can only peal off the skin they refuse you to see, lick their wounds and tend to their cuts and bruises and frail souls until they're strong enough to be the men that they know they can be. Finally, be what you need, so you and the children will have to wait for now.
They're a mess when they get back to their home base. Exhausted. Worn. Weary. Caked in blood, soot, grime and mud. They smell terrible. Like death. Like rot. Like hell. But none of them can stop thinking about you. About their babies. About what it all means. It's all so convoluted and a mess and not what they need, but they refuse to stop. Not now. Not when they're so close to having you back. Their very lives back—
Or what's left of them anyway.
Showers are taken by one as the other makes the bed, another makes a meal and the last person stares out of the window, hoping to see you three magically walking down the street, laughing and smiling and carrying on like nothing bad as ever happened.
But you don't, and that's fair. It's okay.
But it still kills Johnny. Just as it kills Kyle as he stands underneath the shower head, rinsing the road rash from his arms and his blunt fingers dig into the slice on his thigh. It's raw, heated, and angry. He can't blame it. He probably feels the same. Somewhere. Maybe. If he gives himself enough time, enough strength, enough willpower, he might remember what he truly feels. Maybe. He continues. Flushing out the bits of rocks and debris, watching as it tumbles down the drain and away from his eyesight.
Last few months—years—has almost been like he's tumbled down the rabbit hole himself. Gone is what he knows. Gone is what he's grown up with, what has always been right and wrong.
He was a good soldier before this. Always did as he was told, complied with malice if he thought the orders were fucked, but he did it. Someone had to do it. Someone had to get dirty to keep it all clean. And why shouldn't it be him? He worked harder than most. He fought for every step he made. He took every hit with grace. With a smile. Never show them how much it truly hurts, how much they really pushed on him. Its a trait that his own mum praised him for again and again. Resilient to his core. Dedicated. Humble. Loyal. A perfect solider through and through.
But it's all for nothing now. Kyle is unofficially, officially, an outlaw. He's wanted. He's stamped in blood and left to rot in the desert sun. He's put his family in harms way, forced them to move away. Drop his number. Don't ever breathe a word of where they're going, who they have to deal with now. He's sold his soul, and he knows he's living on borrowed time. There's a clock ticking, and he swears it's getting louder day by day.
Maybe if he could go back in time, back before he was offered a spot on Price's team, maybe he would tell himself not to accept it. Keep low. Keep hidden. Don't make an impact. Was it worth it? Is any of this worth it?
The thought leaves him before he can boot it out himself.
He loves his team. He loves John Price and Simon Riley and John MacTavish. When the world, his country, his reason for being, turned their backs on him and accosted him as a traitor, his team stood by his side.
They never left. And they never will.
And his family, his reason for staying alive, has only grown since seeing you. And how beautiful, amazing, wonderful as it is—
It still leaves him sick with guilt and shame and something hot that bubbles up during horrible times.
Maybe it could be easier if they didn't see you at the bar all those months ago, but he can't regret that either. He can't regret you. Not ever.
Kyle finds himself crying as he scrubs his skin clean of the filth.
There's rot under his skin that he can not reach.
By god, does he wish he could.
You were so kind. So sweet and innocent, and they—
They did what they had to, okay? Even if it stings now.
Even if it reminds him how far he's fallen.
He's swore using the child and mother was the last time but—
He's lost track of all the horrific things he's done since then.
But you? It's right on top of his list.
He makes a promise to himself as he turns off the water and stumbles for his towel. Kyle promises to give you a life that you and your children deserve. That Eleanor and Thomas would be proud of when they finally have a family of their own. That would make his own family proud.
He can't speak to them—can barely whisper their names anymore—he can't show them the beautiful babies he's help create, but he can try his best not to mess it all up. He can do better.
He has to.
Kyle limps out from the bathroom, steam rolling off his shoulders and curling around his body like a kings robe. It makes Simon's mouth dry. John's cough with distraction, and Johnny is still staring out the window.
It's quiet between them all. The weight on their shoulders has eclipsed them time and time again. They're lost to the madness, with only each other to watch for.
Their lighthouse, their beacon in the night, sound asleep a few blocks down. You'll be there for them in the morning and they can't wait.
"Let's stitch you up, yeah?" John coughs again, breaking the silence, but he pats the old couch twice to get Kyle to do as he says.
As if Kyle has ever known anything different since he met him.
Simon stays locked in as Kyle gently sits down, a faint hiss escapes him before he realizes.
He's sore. He's stiff. He aches. He burns.
But he fucking wants.
John ignores Kyle's half hard cock while he pours disinfect over the wound. He relaxes his muscles the best he can and John pierces his skin with a needle and thread and begins sowing a picture for show. A story remains, as they always do.
Simon waits for Kyle's cock to leak against his thigh before he makes way to the shower.
It's a quiet ordeal. Kyle only hums when the needle is threaded through him and exhales when John pulls the string tighter and tighter.
Johnny dishes everyone up.
He doesn't know what it is—it's not his cooking or yours—so he doesn't care to really take it in. He's grateful, but that's about all. He places a dish by Kyle and John and leaves his own by the windowsill as he continues to take in the view.
There's a noise coming from the bathroom.
Simon is crying.
There's nothing more to be said about it, so they don't. They stay with him in spirit and shoulder his pain the best they can. The best they always do.
When John is finished, and before Kyle can thank him for his help, John swipes up the pile of pre that has steadily leaked from his tip and brings it to his mouth. He savors Kyle. The headiness of it all. How desperate he must look. How desperate he truly feels.
Kyle hisses as he watches his Captain take what he wants. Perhaps what he's even owed. He can only watch as John angles his cock and swallows him whole.
Everything pulses and aches but—fuck—he's so fucking good. John is burying his nose against the dark pile of curls at his base. He's swallowing continuously, forcing any bit of pre to head directly down his throat and to his stomach.
Kyle is so exhausted, so wiped clean that he can barely hold his eyes open, let alone fuck his captains face or stretch his legs out with pleasure.
Captain has thought about it and readjusts him quickly. He drapes his thick, beautiful thighs over his shoulders and soaks his middle finger, too. He surprises Kyle by lavishing his balls with his tongue before finding his puckered hole and lapping away at it like he's starved.
It goes by quick before John is easing Kyle back in his throat and his middle finger inside. Kyle can't stop moaning now. He's whimpering out praise. He can't stop telling his Captain how good he feels. How amazing he's doing. He's never felt so good. Only Captain can make him feel this good.
He almost yells when John applies pressure to his prostate.
It's a game now to John. Presses against his poor sergeants spot and hums at the same time. He forces his poor cock to leak all down Captains throat before slowing down and letting him recover.
Kyle can't stop whimpering, he can't stop begging for more-
For less-
For everything.
John has his fun. He traces his tongue against Kyle's pulsing veins. He pulls back enough to savor his taste.
He even swallows harshly repeatedly, throwing Kyle into overstimulation as his prostate is milked again and again.
John thinks about letting Kyle cum when he finally starts crying. He's blubbering away. He's saying sweet nothings and he's so, so, so very tired.
He's so cute like this.
After tonguing his slit, drinking up the last of the pre, he finds a steady pace against his prostate and slurps his cock once-
Twice-
Swallows him down and
Kyle is sobbing as he cums.
He feels his body being drained and pulled into a million directions. Lava is swarming his pelvic, and his brain is completely empty.
John feels the satisfaction rolling in his belly. Kyle is completely relaxed and looks like his angel.
John slowly eases off, but still can't help himself to a quick taste as he does. Kyle whimpers out when he feels John trace his tongue against the sensitive organ. His legs twitch as John latches on to his head and suckles for a minute.
There's nothing left to clean, but John doesn't do anything halfway.
Once his finger is out from Kyle, John has a taste before soothing his hole with his tongue. He gives him a few kisses before trying to push his way back in.
John is only satisfied when his tongue is encompassed by his heat, his taste, the warm walls that welcome him so. He thrusts in as gently as he can, savoring the way Kyle trembles in his grasp. The way his walls milk his tongue. His fist locked on Captains hair, and he can only wait for it to pass.
Kyle's whines mean nothing. This is for John.
He decides it's time to clean up his balls next. Drawing each one into his mouth, gently humming as he sucks. He can feel his cock give a valiant effort twitch, and he suddenly worries what happens if he gets hard again. He can't go again… can he?
When he finally laps at the base of Kyle's cock, Kyle knows he's done.
Kyle barely lays down before he's out cold.
John smiles.
He turns toward Johnny, watches him closely. He still hasn't moved, hasn't taken a bite, hasn't whispered a word—
And that wouldn't do, would it?
Johnny. Poor Johnny. Usually one of the first ones on his knees, begging to be used, to be wanted, to be loved. Always makes himself so eager for his team. Happy to do what he needs to put everyone back together.
But even sunshine needs a day, and that's why John is here, isn't he?
Johnny doesn't fight John as he pulls him up from his seat and drapes him over the table. Why would he?
It's never worked before.
John works to get his pants pulled down, boxers too. His clothes are stiff, and he should probably wait until Sunshine gets a quick shower, but they've done it in worse conditions, so John barely blinks.
He doesn't say a word when he pulls apart his cheeks, showing off his hole, winking as the cool air hit his sensitive flesh.
Johnny grunts as John uses his hands to get him to hold himself open for him. Keep him spread. Let him work in peace.
John is a man who knows what he wants, knows how to get it too. He knows what his men want, even if they act like they don't.
The first swipe of his tongue against Johnny's hole makes him whine. Its short but sweet and it fills John with a sense of pride that only his men can rise.
Well. Them and you.
John doesn't hold back his moans as he traces his tongue around the puckered flesh. As he dips inside quickly before going back to his invisible route. It keeps Johnny on his toes and keeps John smiling as he feels his sunshine slowly wind down.
It's not long until Johnny is relaxed enough to fully take John's tongue without any fight. It's joyous when he finally sinks in. When he can taste his boy and hear Johnny crying for his Captain for more, harder, faster, please.
And John tried to always be a good captain. Put his men first. Show them the way. Be a good example of a soldier, of a man, of a human being stuck with a purpose that far exceeds anything they've ever known.
But right now, Johnny needs his Captain and John is more than happy to help provide.
John is as quick as he can be as he removes his tongue from his boys pulsing hole. He can't stop staring at him, winking at him with such conviction that it really is a miracle that John doesn't say 'fuck it' and sink into him like he wants to.
But that's not the reason for this right now. That's not what Johnny needs.
He lubes up his fingers and presses them in slow but steady. He can't help but watch as Johnny's cock drools with want, throbbing in pleasure and begs for him to take it and show him mercy.
John easily finds his prostate and begins stroking him with vigor. The continuous pressure and stretch of his captains fingers are always too much for poor sunshine and he tries to breath through the pleasure spiking through him. He tries to hold on. He tries to keep going. He tries to—
Johnny cries as he cums. It unlocks what he's tried so hard to keep hidden. Everything he's put into boxes and filed away, only meant to deal with it all years and years down the line—
It's blubbering out like he's a small child again. When his parents fought and left him alone in the cold house, scared and broken before he even knew what it meant.
And John tries to be a good captain. He let's his sunshine have his rainy day. He pulls out gently, shushing away all of Johnny's apologies. He pets his back and pulls him up to his arms. He rocks him, kissing his forehead and whispers what a good job he did. How he was the best to do it. It's not all for nothing. There is a light at the end of his long, terrible tunnel.
Captain will make sure of it.
Eventually, he pulls them both to the shower. Simon is still under, letting the water pound against his back, wash away his own regrets and undoings. He stands at attention when the door is opened and almost collapses when he realizes it's just his Captain.
John doesn't say a word, not that he has to. Simon collects Johnny and smothers him against his chest, letting the warmth embrace them both before grabbing the soap for his Soap. John watches, briefly, eyes smiling as he watches his oldest take care of the youngest.
Simon will make a good captain one day. Better than John, he hopes. He wishes he'll be around to see it.
He wishes he could find another way.
He leaves them both to collect Kyle, still knocked out cold from earlier.
He isn't awake, but he does walk to their bed with John's hand firmly on his shoulder, guiding his way around.
Kyle will always follow his Captain and it's something John doesn't take likely. He can't.
Not again.
He burrows Kyle in the blankets. Wraps them around him until only his mouth is visible.
The other aren't far behind.
They stumble in and collapse, letting John cover their bodies in warmth, snuggling against each other and snoring a brief moment later.
He stares at them all. He can't help it.
His family. His home.
He's so proud of them.
He gives himself a minute before making his way to the bathroom. The weight of the world is heavy on his shoulders. An ache he found at an early age and it's only grown over the years.
He sheds his clothes. His skin. He makes the water burn and forces himself to stand under it. He recites the names of men lost. He thinks back to when it all became too much. What would be his tipping point? Did he already find it? Is it all too much?
He's silent as he scrubs. Ignores the tears as he washes. Tries to breathe as his chest locks in place.
He can't see the way anymore. He can't remember what he's fighting for.
John can only remember who he's lost. Who he sacrificed.
He prays it's all worth it.
He's done. He dries. He's ready for bed and to snuggle away and dream of nothing until he can finally come home to you. Beg for you to forgive them all. Talk and work on what to do next.
It's time.
He's—
There's noise coming from the kitchen.
Captain Price has a gun in his hand and he's quietly making his way towards the danger. How did they find them? Did they have you? Are you next? He needs to contact Kate. He needs to make sure that you're safe.
He almost thinks he's hallucinating when he sees a familiar back. When the babbles of two little ones fill the room. When the smell of you hits him like a sucker punch.
He knows its you when you turn and smile. Your arms are open, and your eyes are full.
surprisingly forward-thinking of jim henson and co. to make a female character in the 70's that's allowed to be loud-mouthed and violent and kind of overwhelmingly romantic and even a huge bitch at times and not have a moment where any character asks her to change
going through all the muppet movies in a row made me realize that like. miss piggy was made in the 70's. and it's so rare even today to have a character like her. she's loud, she's selfish, she's funny, she's extremely vain, she's obsessed with romance, she's violent, she's kind of annoying, and there's not a single moment in any of these films where she's asked to tone down any of these personality traits. i am not joking when i say that miss piggy might be one of the best treated female characters ever written
You've always wanted a baby. You wanted to grow a family full of love and light, everything that was the complete opposite of your own childhood.
After a busy life, you've done just that. Great house, great car, great job.
Except... no one is interested in starting a family with you.
The universe is strange and will give you what you want and more
TW: 18+, MDNI, there's a baby in my fic, smut, poly 141 x Reader, pregnancy, birth, babies, 141 not nice men at first but they want to make it right, mentions of previous childhood abuse and neglect, angst with a happy ending
(Divider made by @/enchanthings)
Part 1) All That She Wants Is (Another) Baby
Part 2) Havin' My Baby, What a Wonderful Thing
Part 3) Please, Don't Leave The Baby
Part 4) Go To Sleep, Little Baby
Part 5) Feed me baby, I'm hungry
Part 6) Rest with me baby, just for a moment
Part 7) Crash into me, baby, take care of me
Part 8) Baby, taste me
Part 9) Take me to the park, baby, then let me show you how it's done
You've always wanted a baby. You wanted to grow a family full of love and light, everything that was the complete opposite of your own childhood.
After a busy life, you've done just that. Great house, great car, great job.
Except... no one is interested in starting a family with you.
The universe is strange and will give you what you want and more
TW: 18+, MDNI, there's a baby in my fic, smut, poly 141 x Reader, pregnancy, birth, babies, 141 not nice men at first but they want to make it right, mentions of previous childhood abuse and neglect, angst with a happy ending
(Divider made by @/enchanthings)
Part 1) All That She Wants Is (Another) Baby
Part 2) Havin' My Baby, What a Wonderful Thing
Part 3) Please, Don't Leave The Baby
Part 4) Go To Sleep, Little Baby
Part 5) Feed me baby, I'm hungry
Part 6) Rest with me baby, just for a moment
Part 7) Crash into me, baby, take care of me
Part 8) Baby, taste me
Part 9) Take me to the park, baby, then let me show you how it's done
They don't stop by your house when they first land down.
It's not that they don't want to. Of course they want to, love. They want to hold you, kiss you, snuggle their babies, and make promises that they know they can't keep. Not yet. Maybe not ever, but they can't worry about that now. They can't fathom the very thought of that right now. They can only peal off the skin they refuse you to see, lick their wounds and tend to their cuts and bruises and frail souls until they're strong enough to be the men that they know they can be. Finally, be what you need, so you and the children will have to wait for now.
They're a mess when they get back to their home base. Exhausted. Worn. Weary. Caked in blood, soot, grime and mud. They smell terrible. Like death. Like rot. Like hell. But none of them can stop thinking about you. About their babies. About what it all means. It's all so convoluted and a mess and not what they need, but they refuse to stop. Not now. Not when they're so close to having you back. Their very lives back—
Or what's left of them anyway.
Showers are taken by one as the other makes the bed, another makes a meal and the last person stares out of the window, hoping to see you three magically walking down the street, laughing and smiling and carrying on like nothing bad as ever happened.
But you don't, and that's fair. It's okay.
But it still kills Johnny. Just as it kills Kyle as he stands underneath the shower head, rinsing the road rash from his arms and his blunt fingers dig into the slice on his thigh. It's raw, heated, and angry. He can't blame it. He probably feels the same. Somewhere. Maybe. If he gives himself enough time, enough strength, enough willpower, he might remember what he truly feels. Maybe. He continues. Flushing out the bits of rocks and debris, watching as it tumbles down the drain and away from his eyesight.
Last few months—years—has almost been like he's tumbled down the rabbit hole himself. Gone is what he knows. Gone is what he's grown up with, what has always been right and wrong.
He was a good soldier before this. Always did as he was told, complied with malice if he thought the orders were fucked, but he did it. Someone had to do it. Someone had to get dirty to keep it all clean. And why shouldn't it be him? He worked harder than most. He fought for every step he made. He took every hit with grace. With a smile. Never show them how much it truly hurts, how much they really pushed on him. Its a trait that his own mum praised him for again and again. Resilient to his core. Dedicated. Humble. Loyal. A perfect solider through and through.
But it's all for nothing now. Kyle is unofficially, officially, an outlaw. He's wanted. He's stamped in blood and left to rot in the desert sun. He's put his family in harms way, forced them to move away. Drop his number. Don't ever breathe a word of where they're going, who they have to deal with now. He's sold his soul, and he knows he's living on borrowed time. There's a clock ticking, and he swears it's getting louder day by day.
Maybe if he could go back in time, back before he was offered a spot on Price's team, maybe he would tell himself not to accept it. Keep low. Keep hidden. Don't make an impact. Was it worth it? Is any of this worth it?
The thought leaves him before he can boot it out himself.
He loves his team. He loves John Price and Simon Riley and John MacTavish. When the world, his country, his reason for being, turned their backs on him and accosted him as a traitor, his team stood by his side.
They never left. And they never will.
And his family, his reason for staying alive, has only grown since seeing you. And how beautiful, amazing, wonderful as it is—
It still leaves him sick with guilt and shame and something hot that bubbles up during horrible times.
Maybe it could be easier if they didn't see you at the bar all those months ago, but he can't regret that either. He can't regret you. Not ever.
Kyle finds himself crying as he scrubs his skin clean of the filth.
There's rot under his skin that he can not reach.
By god, does he wish he could.
You were so kind. So sweet and innocent, and they—
They did what they had to, okay? Even if it stings now.
Even if it reminds him how far he's fallen.
He's swore using the child and mother was the last time but—
He's lost track of all the horrific things he's done since then.
But you? It's right on top of his list.
He makes a promise to himself as he turns off the water and stumbles for his towel. Kyle promises to give you a life that you and your children deserve. That Eleanor and Thomas would be proud of when they finally have a family of their own. That would make his own family proud.
He can't speak to them—can barely whisper their names anymore—he can't show them the beautiful babies he's help create, but he can try his best not to mess it all up. He can do better.
He has to.
Kyle limps out from the bathroom, steam rolling off his shoulders and curling around his body like a kings robe. It makes Simon's mouth dry. John's cough with distraction, and Johnny is still staring out the window.
It's quiet between them all. The weight on their shoulders has eclipsed them time and time again. They're lost to the madness, with only each other to watch for.
Their lighthouse, their beacon in the night, sound asleep a few blocks down. You'll be there for them in the morning and they can't wait.
"Let's stitch you up, yeah?" John coughs again, breaking the silence, but he pats the old couch twice to get Kyle to do as he says.
As if Kyle has ever known anything different since he met him.
Simon stays locked in as Kyle gently sits down, a faint hiss escapes him before he realizes.
He's sore. He's stiff. He aches. He burns.
But he fucking wants.
John ignores Kyle's half hard cock while he pours disinfect over the wound. He relaxes his muscles the best he can and John pierces his skin with a needle and thread and begins sowing a picture for show. A story remains, as they always do.
Simon waits for Kyle's cock to leak against his thigh before he makes way to the shower.
It's a quiet ordeal. Kyle only hums when the needle is threaded through him and exhales when John pulls the string tighter and tighter.
Johnny dishes everyone up.
He doesn't know what it is—it's not his cooking or yours—so he doesn't care to really take it in. He's grateful, but that's about all. He places a dish by Kyle and John and leaves his own by the windowsill as he continues to take in the view.
There's a noise coming from the bathroom.
Simon is crying.
There's nothing more to be said about it, so they don't. They stay with him in spirit and shoulder his pain the best they can. The best they always do.
When John is finished, and before Kyle can thank him for his help, John swipes up the pile of pre that has steadily leaked from his tip and brings it to his mouth. He savors Kyle. The headiness of it all. How desperate he must look. How desperate he truly feels.
Kyle hisses as he watches his Captain take what he wants. Perhaps what he's even owed. He can only watch as John angles his cock and swallows him whole.
Everything pulses and aches but—fuck—he's so fucking good. John is burying his nose against the dark pile of curls at his base. He's swallowing continuously, forcing any bit of pre to head directly down his throat and to his stomach.
Kyle is so exhausted, so wiped clean that he can barely hold his eyes open, let alone fuck his captains face or stretch his legs out with pleasure.
Captain has thought about it and readjusts him quickly. He drapes his thick, beautiful thighs over his shoulders and soaks his middle finger, too. He surprises Kyle by lavishing his balls with his tongue before finding his puckered hole and lapping away at it like he's starved.
It goes by quick before John is easing Kyle back in his throat and his middle finger inside. Kyle can't stop moaning now. He's whimpering out praise. He can't stop telling his Captain how good he feels. How amazing he's doing. He's never felt so good. Only Captain can make him feel this good.
He almost yells when John applies pressure to his prostate.
It's a game now to John. Presses against his poor sergeants spot and hums at the same time. He forces his poor cock to leak all down Captains throat before slowing down and letting him recover.
Kyle can't stop whimpering, he can't stop begging for more-
For less-
For everything.
John has his fun. He traces his tongue against Kyle's pulsing veins. He pulls back enough to savor his taste.
He even swallows harshly repeatedly, throwing Kyle into overstimulation as his prostate is milked again and again.
John thinks about letting Kyle cum when he finally starts crying. He's blubbering away. He's saying sweet nothings and he's so, so, so very tired.
He's so cute like this.
After tonguing his slit, drinking up the last of the pre, he finds a steady pace against his prostate and slurps his cock once-
Twice-
Swallows him down and
Kyle is sobbing as he cums.
He feels his body being drained and pulled into a million directions. Lava is swarming his pelvic, and his brain is completely empty.
John feels the satisfaction rolling in his belly. Kyle is completely relaxed and looks like his angel.
John slowly eases off, but still can't help himself to a quick taste as he does. Kyle whimpers out when he feels John trace his tongue against the sensitive organ. His legs twitch as John latches on to his head and suckles for a minute.
There's nothing left to clean, but John doesn't do anything halfway.
Once his finger is out from Kyle, John has a taste before soothing his hole with his tongue. He gives him a few kisses before trying to push his way back in.
John is only satisfied when his tongue is encompassed by his heat, his taste, the warm walls that welcome him so. He thrusts in as gently as he can, savoring the way Kyle trembles in his grasp. The way his walls milk his tongue. His fist locked on Captains hair, and he can only wait for it to pass.
Kyle's whines mean nothing. This is for John.
He decides it's time to clean up his balls next. Drawing each one into his mouth, gently humming as he sucks. He can feel his cock give a valiant effort twitch, and he suddenly worries what happens if he gets hard again. He can't go again… can he?
When he finally laps at the base of Kyle's cock, Kyle knows he's done.
Kyle barely lays down before he's out cold.
John smiles.
He turns toward Johnny, watches him closely. He still hasn't moved, hasn't taken a bite, hasn't whispered a word—
And that wouldn't do, would it?
Johnny. Poor Johnny. Usually one of the first ones on his knees, begging to be used, to be wanted, to be loved. Always makes himself so eager for his team. Happy to do what he needs to put everyone back together.
But even sunshine needs a day, and that's why John is here, isn't he?
Johnny doesn't fight John as he pulls him up from his seat and drapes him over the table. Why would he?
It's never worked before.
John works to get his pants pulled down, boxers too. His clothes are stiff, and he should probably wait until Sunshine gets a quick shower, but they've done it in worse conditions, so John barely blinks.
He doesn't say a word when he pulls apart his cheeks, showing off his hole, winking as the cool air hit his sensitive flesh.
Johnny grunts as John uses his hands to get him to hold himself open for him. Keep him spread. Let him work in peace.
John is a man who knows what he wants, knows how to get it too. He knows what his men want, even if they act like they don't.
The first swipe of his tongue against Johnny's hole makes him whine. Its short but sweet and it fills John with a sense of pride that only his men can rise.
Well. Them and you.
John doesn't hold back his moans as he traces his tongue around the puckered flesh. As he dips inside quickly before going back to his invisible route. It keeps Johnny on his toes and keeps John smiling as he feels his sunshine slowly wind down.
It's not long until Johnny is relaxed enough to fully take John's tongue without any fight. It's joyous when he finally sinks in. When he can taste his boy and hear Johnny crying for his Captain for more, harder, faster, please.
And John tried to always be a good captain. Put his men first. Show them the way. Be a good example of a soldier, of a man, of a human being stuck with a purpose that far exceeds anything they've ever known.
But right now, Johnny needs his Captain and John is more than happy to help provide.
John is as quick as he can be as he removes his tongue from his boys pulsing hole. He can't stop staring at him, winking at him with such conviction that it really is a miracle that John doesn't say 'fuck it' and sink into him like he wants to.
But that's not the reason for this right now. That's not what Johnny needs.
He lubes up his fingers and presses them in slow but steady. He can't help but watch as Johnny's cock drools with want, throbbing in pleasure and begs for him to take it and show him mercy.
John easily finds his prostate and begins stroking him with vigor. The continuous pressure and stretch of his captains fingers are always too much for poor sunshine and he tries to breath through the pleasure spiking through him. He tries to hold on. He tries to keep going. He tries to—
Johnny cries as he cums. It unlocks what he's tried so hard to keep hidden. Everything he's put into boxes and filed away, only meant to deal with it all years and years down the line—
It's blubbering out like he's a small child again. When his parents fought and left him alone in the cold house, scared and broken before he even knew what it meant.
And John tries to be a good captain. He let's his sunshine have his rainy day. He pulls out gently, shushing away all of Johnny's apologies. He pets his back and pulls him up to his arms. He rocks him, kissing his forehead and whispers what a good job he did. How he was the best to do it. It's not all for nothing. There is a light at the end of his long, terrible tunnel.
Captain will make sure of it.
Eventually, he pulls them both to the shower. Simon is still under, letting the water pound against his back, wash away his own regrets and undoings. He stands at attention when the door is opened and almost collapses when he realizes it's just his Captain.
John doesn't say a word, not that he has to. Simon collects Johnny and smothers him against his chest, letting the warmth embrace them both before grabbing the soap for his Soap. John watches, briefly, eyes smiling as he watches his oldest take care of the youngest.
Simon will make a good captain one day. Better than John, he hopes. He wishes he'll be around to see it.
He wishes he could find another way.
He leaves them both to collect Kyle, still knocked out cold from earlier.
He isn't awake, but he does walk to their bed with John's hand firmly on his shoulder, guiding his way around.
Kyle will always follow his Captain and it's something John doesn't take likely. He can't.
Not again.
He burrows Kyle in the blankets. Wraps them around him until only his mouth is visible.
The other aren't far behind.
They stumble in and collapse, letting John cover their bodies in warmth, snuggling against each other and snoring a brief moment later.
He stares at them all. He can't help it.
His family. His home.
He's so proud of them.
He gives himself a minute before making his way to the bathroom. The weight of the world is heavy on his shoulders. An ache he found at an early age and it's only grown over the years.
He sheds his clothes. His skin. He makes the water burn and forces himself to stand under it. He recites the names of men lost. He thinks back to when it all became too much. What would be his tipping point? Did he already find it? Is it all too much?
He's silent as he scrubs. Ignores the tears as he washes. Tries to breathe as his chest locks in place.
He can't see the way anymore. He can't remember what he's fighting for.
John can only remember who he's lost. Who he sacrificed.
He prays it's all worth it.
He's done. He dries. He's ready for bed and to snuggle away and dream of nothing until he can finally come home to you. Beg for you to forgive them all. Talk and work on what to do next.
It's time.
He's—
There's noise coming from the kitchen.
Captain Price has a gun in his hand and he's quietly making his way towards the danger. How did they find them? Did they have you? Are you next? He needs to contact Kate. He needs to make sure that you're safe.
He almost thinks he's hallucinating when he sees a familiar back. When the babbles of two little ones fill the room. When the smell of you hits him like a sucker punch.
He knows its you when you turn and smile. Your arms are open, and your eyes are full.
because otherwise it gets kind of visually confusing to parse, which is annoying to some folks, including me
GRANTED not everybody uses the same theme or even the same update. you might have noticed my version of tumblr is earlier than yours (I don't like the new button setup)
