#Crane Fist

[punkrockmixtapes]

Rancid - Crane Fist

[psygull-arts]

I'M A CHANGELING SEE ME CHANGE

[leaderoffestivals]

Poltergeist Chapter 16

The Neverland of Grudges Ch 8

Madara: However, times have changed, and I’ve changed a little, too. And it’s all thanks to you guys. 

Scenario Writer: Akira Season: Winter Characters: Mikejima Madara, Narukami Arashi

Madara: Ohhh. So, that’s how it is.

Regrettably, I’ve not had the chance to interact with NEGI-san personally, but I have carried out extensive research into matters related to her—

Matters which tie into the very foundation of the idol industry and thus, deeply concern us, after all.

It seems NEGI-san was the successor to an entity known as "The Priest", a malevolent figure who ruled the idol industry from the shadows while posing as a god.

Arashi: Eh?! D—did that child really have such a tremendous status, after all? The "Priest"...?

I guess NEGI-chan must’ve been trying her best to appear plain and unassuming in front of us, huh. She still came across as a little out of this world, though—

But then again, that level of eccentricity isn't uncommon at Yumenosaki or ES at all. That’s why it never occurred to me that she was such an extraordinary personage.

Madara: No, that’s because in actuality, she’s not a monstrous being. And of course, she definitely wasn’t a God or anything else either.

Whether it’s NEGI-san or her younger brother, Hitsugi-san, they were probably ordinary kids, just like us.

However, the "Priest”—their father— was a deranged lunatic.

I’m not clear about the fine details, but it seems the Priest was obsessed with a bizarre delusion of taking over the bodies of children, believing he could extend his life this way and live forever.

Immortality has always been the ultimate desire of those in power, ever since the time of the First Emperor of China, you knowwww?

As the saying goes, “A crane lives for a thousand years, and a turtle for ten thousand” (1)—

In light of this, the name “Dancing Cranes Home” honestly sends shivers down one’s spine, doesn’t it?

Madara: The big shot in the idol industry who established Dancing Cranes Home was probably none other than the Priest himself, via one of his proxies.

That would explain why his daughter, NEGI-san, ended up being fostered here—

—in a place built and named after the crane, with its legendary thousand-year lifespan, in an attempt to harness the power and mysticism associated with the name.

By christening his building with such an auspicious name, he might have hoped to extend his own life, even if by a little.

Arashi: Eh? On the contrary, didn’t it turn out unlucky in the end? Dancing Cranes Home has already burned to the ground once, after all.

Madara: Hahaha. I daresay that was because the Priest no longer felt the need to rely on such magic formulas. He had found a more suitable vessel for his new form—Hitsugi-san. 

Madara: That’s why he took action to eliminate his daughter, NEGI-san, since she no longer served a purpose to him.

For the Priest who had such an extreme fear of death, the existence of a blood-relation must have been anathema to him. 

There's a possibility someone would be able to trace her lineage back to him—the Priest himself—from her existence, and fearing such an outcome, the Priest took steps to eliminate the evidence, so to speak.

That's probably the true story behind the fire that broke out at Dancing Cranes Home.  

Arashi: What? He decided to do away with her and burn her up in a bonfire, because he didn’t need her anymore?

Who does that kind of thing? Who does that guy even think he is?  

Madara: HAHAHA! I alreadyyy told you—he’s a guy who’s screwy in the head LARPing as a god. Hahaha, he's totally different from Kanata-san; there’d be nothiiing cute about him as a god at aaall—

—just a murderous, malevolent and abominable god. 

However, that person is no longer in this world. I don’t know the exact details, but he was eliminated by somebody, not too long ago. (2) 

Arashi: Oh? Is he dead? He absolutely deserves to be, but then, who am I going to direct these furious fists of mine at now? 

Arashi: The children of the Rafflesia Group under my care are still suffering the traumatic effects of that cruel fire to this very day, you know? They lost their dearest friend, their halcyon, happy days—

And simply reading a picture book with the barest mention of a fire in it makes them cry and throw up.  

Madara: Hmmm. Picture book—a drawing—I seee? 

Maybe that could come in useful after aaall… …

Arashi: Hmm? What’s that? What in the world do you mean? Come on~, Mama, it’s a bad habit to always be keeping things to yourself, you know? 

Madara: Right. I’ve——MaM has always been a Solo Unit, used to working alone. It’s always been enough for me to be the only one who understood what was going on. 

However, times have changed, and I’ve changed a little, too. And it’s all thanks to you guys. 

Arashi: Once again, what in the world do you mean? 

—————-To be continued——————

Chapter 15 / Chapter 17

Translator’s Notes

Madara says 鶴は千年、亀は万年（Tsuru wa sennen, kame wa mannen). It is an expression that translates literally to “A crane (lives for) a thousand years, and a turtle for ten thousand years”. It is used to mean “a long life is something worth celebrating”. Cranes and turtles are symbols of longevity. The saying originated from a Noh play titled [鶴亀] “TsuruKame” (Crane and Turtle), a congratulatory tale that prays and celebrates the peace of the world and the long-term state.

Nagisa was the one who got rid of the Priest. He set up and managed to trap the Priest with GateKeeper’s help in SS Finals (Main Story 2). The Priest had wanted to take over Nagisa then (since Hitsugi faked his death in BlackJack (Main Story 1.5) and wasn't around to be used). It’s not certain what happened to the Priest exactly, but he was trapped in a car which was driven away after Nagisa passed judgement on him “to be burnt in the fires of hell for eternity” (SS Finals Laurel Ch 23).

This isn't proofed, so you've any feedback, please DM me.

[nikomedes]

goes on a mental journey of labyrinthine complexity, vague symbolism, and feverish thought association and emerges from my pondering chamber sweating, shaking, to respec my bg3 pc into a spear fighter

[chiroptxro]

damn...i love gay people. wish they were real!!!

vitiligo!kanata design inspired by @silvercrane14 their baby kanata got me squealing and kickin my feet

image id under cut!!

[image ID: a paper-on-pencil drawing of kanata shinkai and chiaki morisawa from ensemble music stars, drawn from mid-torso up. they are wearing the outfits worn in the ryuseitai nekketsu☆ryusei ninpouchou music video. kanata is a young man with straight, unshaded hair that curls slightly around his ears, parted on his left. he has lightly shaded skin with various sized vitiligo patches on his face. he is looking slightly to the right of the camera, smiling softly, and only his left eye is drawn. chiaki is a young man with short, shaded hair that tufts out all around his head and ears. his eyes are closed and he has a wide grin on his face. kanata stands on the viewer's left, and chiaki stands on the viewer's right, with his right arm thrown over kanata's shoulders. his right hand is resting loosely curled. their heads are tilted towards each other, and they are leaning into each other's space. end ID]

[lifewithaview]

Kelsey Grammer in Frasier (1993) I Hate Frasier Crane

S1E4

After being insulted on Frasier's show following a bad review, newspaper columnist Derek Mann challenges Frasier to a fist fight. Although Frasier agrees in the heat of the moment, Martin is angry to later learn he has no intention of going through with it. After learning of the shame he put Martin through when he ducked out of a similar situation as a child, Frasier resolves to meet the challenge.

*Martin says he has been trying to solve the murder of a prostitute that happened 20 years earlier. Later he says the murder occurred when Frasier was 12 years old. Frasier would have been much older than that at the time.

[infictionalwonderland]

The BAU team meeting Hotch’s younger gf who looks like she walked off the front cover of a magazine & she’s so bubbly and has a really comforting energy! How would they react????

The satisfying little clicks of heels against the marble floor wasn’t enough to gain any of their attention usually, but accompanied by the delicately enchanting chimes of true laughter and sweet smell of baked goods—eyes were immediately lifting to investigate to the scene.

“Thank you so much!” An incredibly sweet, honeyed voice gushed genuinely, “here, all of these are meant for my boyfriend but I’m sure he won’t even notice.”

The team traded immensely interested looks as they surveyed the scene, Anderson (who was uncharacteristically blushing a bright flustered cherry red) was being handed a chocolate chip muffin by—wow—a startlingly gorgeous young women who was dressed in inviting soft colours and had a large sweet smile on her face that served to emphasise her lovely appearance.

“My day just got a hundred times better.” Derek grinned, swivelling his chair sideways to speak to the rest of his team while barely taking his eyes off you.

“You’re telling me.” Emily’s mouth hung open a little as she leaned forwards on her elbows to look at you more closely.

“Behave.” JJ scolded before her brief look of reprimand melted under Emily’s pointed stare, “she’s looks so sweet I just wanna eat her.”

“She has a boyfriend.” Spencer reminded them.

“What—?”

“Pretty boy—you and—“

“Oh—oh, no!” Spencer flustered, sputtering out the gulp of his coffee he had in his mouth (JJ handed him a napkin with a mothers readiness). “Not—I would be absolutely honoured—and—and, for lack of a sensical phrase, over the moon, to have a romantic relationship with a woman such as her but—no, unfortunately. She—she said a few moments ago that has a boyfriend.”

“Ah.” Emily blinked, a slow almost sheepish smirk on his lips, “I wasn’t really listening to what she was saying, just watching her lips move.”

“Preach sister.” Derek leaned forward for a fist-bump which Emily easily gave, both of them nodding in solidarity.

“Hello!” They all startled heavily as your gentle, happy voice chimed now much closer to them and mouths dropped subtly at just how beautiful you looked up close.

“Well hello sweetheart.”

“H-hi.”

“Hi gorgeous.”

“Hello!”

You blinked at them, an adorable giggle leaving you at the onslaught of greetings that came all at once. “Hi! You wouldn’t happen to know where Aaron Hotchner’s office is would you?”

“Hotch?” Emily furrowed her brows at you curiously and then seemed to forgot about, well, any of anything she was thinking as your bubbly smile and sparkling eyes turned her way and you gave a cheerful ‘yep!’ “Um—just, up those stairs, the first door at the top.”

“Thank you very much.” You told her, voice as sweet as the packet of fizzy haribos hidden in her desk. “It was lovely meeting you all, we’ll probably be better acquainted later on.”

With a sparkly mischievous twinkle in your bright eyes and another adorable giggle, you took off in a small spin that sent the enchanting mix of your perfume and the baked goods wafting over to all of them and they all watched, entranced, as you climbed the steps to their boss’ office.

After several seconds of dazed silence, Spencer gasped.

“Boyfriend—“

“Yeah I wouldn’t mind being her boyfriend either.” Derek murmured. “At all—really, no sweat off my back.”

“Hotch.”

JJ’s mouth dropped open as she realised where Spencer was going with his train of thought, rolling back in her chair as they pointed at him in realisation.

“Oh my God!”

“Hotch—hotch, is her boyfriend..?” Spencer sounded extremely confused, mouth falling open and closing repeatedly.

“Huh?”

“Reid, you are having a giggle.”

“No, he’s right.” JJ confirmed, mouth open and eyebrows raised. “She said she was here to see her boyfriend and she’s gone to see Hotch. . 2 plus 2 equals. .”

“. . An incredibly brokenhearted Derek Morgan.” Derek’s own mouth dropped open, craning his neck to see what was going on in the office of his boss before realising that Hotch had shut the blinds. Derek gasped, that sneak.

“And a flummoxed Emily Prentiss.”

“But she’s so—“

“Yeah.”

“And he’s like—“

“Literally!”

“Well, the last few months Hotch has been incredibly more relaxed, in fact his percentage of smiles given has gone up from a measly 30% to almost 84%, his laugh quota has reached high yet levels than I’ve ever known it to be. I had also noted that every Thursday he never goes home as late as he usually retires for the day and with this new revelation of a relationship—I assume this correlates to their date nights.”

“It does.”

Everyone turned in their chairs quickly to face their boss who now stood outside his office a faintly amused smile curving up his lips, at his side was you and you were wearing an amused and loving smile, eyes practically sparkling after Spencer’s speech on your boyfriend’s behaviour as they flickered up to said boyfriend beside you who looked down at you with soft, fond eyes.

“So you figured out my secret.” You grinned at them all, taking in Spencer’s red cheeks and Emily’s flabbergasted, dazed stare. “I’m Y/N, Aaron’s girlfriend!”

“Doesn’t that just crush a man’s hopes and dreams.” Derek pouted quietly to himself, straightening up in alarm when his boss’ intense eyes zeroed in on him.

“Honey, this is JJ—“ The blonde gave a warm, welcoming smile and a wave, “Spencer,” said genius gave a tight lipped awkward smile, hands flailing awkwardly and cheeks a burning fiery red, feeling this pulse thump when they smiled back directly at him, “Emily and Derek.” Both of the aforementioned gave waves with half flirty-ish smirks and half genuine smiles.

The door to Rossi’s office opened and when he stepped out and saw you beside Aaron he smiled happily, walking towards you both.

“Ah, Y/N!” He took you into an embrace, kissing both of your cheeks. “You get more beautiful every time I see you, is this big brute treating you right?”

“Always, Dave.”

He patted you on the shoulders, smiling, before turning to Aaron who was rolling his eyes at him fondly.

“Let’s keep it that way.”

“Rossi!” Emily’s astounded voice exclaimed, “you—know Y/N—you knew about this—“

It was Dave’s turn to roll his eyes as he continued walking to descend down the stairs, tutting at her disappointedly.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” He countered, “who do you think encouraged him to go for it?”

You laughed at that and your boyfriend smiled down at you fondly, looping an arm around your waist—seemingly forgetting he was in his place of work and needed to keep up the facade of stone cold, emotionless boss.

“What—Rossi—get back here—“ Derek leaped up from his seat and trailed after the older man.

“What, you gonna come watch me take a leak?”

“If it means we get some answers!”

“Shoo parassita.”

All you could do was laugh again, smiling up at your boyfriend as his arm tightened around your waist and he pulled you closer into his side. You were very happy with your decision to come and deliver baked goods to him.

[shotmrmiller]

simon who can afford a better flat than the budget friendly flat he lives in but won't move. johnny doesn't understand. he wants to blame it on simon being the enigmatic, intentionally perplexing man he tends to be but he has a flat.

he doesn't have to. he's got no significant other, no kids (that he knows of, god only knows if simon's got a bairn somewhere. it makes him heated thinking about it. he's it's uncle, damn it.) why does he rent here when living in base is free?

the question answers itself when he's over one evening, empty beer bottles on the table, amber glass reflecting the warm glow of the lone lamp overhead. the television is on, volume turned down, blending with the other sounds of the night— the distant barking of dogs, the quiet hum of simon's fridge, the occasional car passing by outside.

the conversation had died down already, not like they don't spend almost every waking breath with each other at work and they'd been sitting in a comfortable silence when there was a sudden, sharp knock at simon's door.

it startles johnny, reaction instinctive as he reaches for his hip, hand curling around the grip of his holstered gun but simon seems relaxed. he pins him with a look and mutters, "s'alrigh'."

what does he mean it's alright? it's 'witchin' hour'' as his mam calls it, who could possible be at his door? he cranes his neck to look and—

it's you, standing up here with a flour-dusted apron, small hands holding a warm pastry, the steam twisting and curling off of it. you're exude homely charm, soft face glowing from the corridor's light (or maybe it's at the sight of seeing simon, who knows?) he can smell it in the air, sweet, inviting.

what johnny finds interesting enough to send a quick text to kyle is how simon is looking at you. as if you're handing him more than just a custard tart, but also a little piece of heaven, a fragment of a dream he hopes to have one day.

"'m sorry, simon. i wasn't aware you had any company. i just really needed to stress bake or i would've gone off the deep end and end up in prison."

violent little bonnie. he can see the appeal.

simon cups his hands over yours (he definitely did it as an excuse to touch you) as he takes the treat. if you make food to unwind and give it to your neighbors, johnny oughta move in next door too. he'll never turn down free food.

"don't worry about it." johnny's eyebrows shoot to his hairline at the softness in his tone, bottle halfway to his lips.

clearly more than a passing fancy.

"i'll just uhm, if you're friend wants some too—" but simon gently interrupts you before he can ask for some of that sweet comfort too.

"he's not hungry."

cruel, cruel bastard. he'll remember this day, jot it down in his calendar. when he gets a girl of his own, he'll be sure to do the same.

johnny wonders if you've got a crick in your neck from looking up at simon as you speak hushed words, meant only for him. can he get at least a nibble of that tart?

you shoot johnny a shy ㅤsmile before turning around and simon closes the door, turning back to the warming beers, golden tart in hand.

even the plate it's on is cute.

"ah can see the hearts in yer eyes, lt."

johnny can practically hear the air parting as simon's fist cuts through it, aimed at his head. he avoids it with practiced ease. "ooh, touchy. ah'll leave ye be if i get a bite o' tha'."

he doesn't gets not even a crumb because simon is selfish.

(simon moved here purposefully because he knows you live here and can't be at peace without knowing where you are at all times. there's a tag inside your favorite pair of shoes you left out in the hall once to dry after a hard downpour. the bakery you work at is down the street, if he looks out the south facing window, he can see you going in and leaving work. he likes to let himself in your home and smell your cushions. took one of your shirts too but at least made sure it wasn't one of your faves. he has to wash it every other day)

[ninibeingdelulu]

Calmness ✧

Plot: Ken and you have a real daughter.

A/N: kinda short :(

Soft evening light filtered through the den, casting everything in that warm, nostalgic glow you'd come to associate with pure contentment over these past few blissful years together.

Ken's attention remained transfixed on that vintage baseball game rerun flickering across the flatscreen.

Body settled deep into those overstuffed couch cushions with one leg casually crossed over the other in peak middle-aged dad repose.

But it was the tiny, swaddled bundle cradled against his barrel chest that held your rapt fascination from the archway.

Soaking in every precious detail of their serene tableau with an overflow of maternal adoration swelling in your breast.

At just three months old, your newborn daughter remained utterly oblivious to her surroundings - cherubic features smoothed into perfect repose while bronzed lashes fanned over porcelain cheeks.

One little fist tucked up beneath her chin while the other tiny starfish hand rested atop Ken's broad pec, rising and falling with each of his steady rumbles.

Her doting father absently brushed the pad of his thumb in soothing circles over the minuscule knuckles. Never once taking those transfixed mahogany pools off your slumbering miracle's face as if committing every microscopic shift to eternal memory.

That singular worshipful reverie you'd immediately recognized and fallen hopelessly in love with all over again these past few weeks.

The exact same soul-deep look Ken once bestowed solely upon the orphaned kaiju he'd raised before watching her depart for greener pastures - now magnified tenfold through his unbreakable connection to your shared offspring.

A permanent reminder of the family you created together from that cosmic loneliness.

"She's not at all like Emi was , is she?" You murmured, footsteps barely audible across the plush carpet until dropping onto the open cushion space beside him.

Ken responded with only a low rumbling hum from his broad chest while immediately unfurling that sheltering arm around your shoulders.

Cocooning you into his solid, familiar warmth until your cheek smooshed comfortably against the firmness of his shoulder. Close enough to press a wandering caress across your tiny miracle's silken crown.

"No - she's not. She's ours." A meaningful pause preceded Ken's soft, gravelly rasp ghosting across your hairline. "Our daughter...our real baby that you gave me, sweetheart. One I'll guard with my life the same way I do for you always."

Melting into the tender, possessive squeeze encircling your trim waist, you craned your chin up against his collarbone to receive that lingering brush over your puckered lips.

Ken's soulful gaze locked onto yours - swimming depths of protective ferocity tamed only through utter reverence for the two solitary souls anchoring his universe now.

The unspoken mantra of doing anything to safeguard the loves of his life until extinction itself.

"You've already given me more than enough happiness to last a trillion lifetimes, babe. Thank you," he whispered hoarsely against your skin.

"For being everything I could've dreamed during those cold, empty decades..."

You stifled the tiny sniffle by reclaiming his questing mouth in a searing, needful communion - conveying through satin caresses alone just how desperately you treasured this man and the profound sanctuary of family he'd bestowed upon you.

Your Ultraman, protector, partner, and living legacy of insurmountable love all in one. Cradling you both to his gallant hero's heart for eternity.

[chiscaralight]

thats my best friend!

he's your best friend! everyone knows how close you are, but they don't know the extent of it.

includes: nsfw! tartaglia and wriothesley( separately), modern au for tartaglia, canon for wriothesley. best friend!reader, semi-public sex and hints to exhibitionism, breeding, pussy-eater and manhandler!wrio, other tags i missed, have fun. wrios is kinda long

TARTAGLIA.

youre in class with your head pressed firmly into the table. your constant groaning of what seems to be discomfort catches your teacher's attention. shes so worried! your cheeks are super red and beads of sweat are all over your face as tartaglia pumps his fingers in and out of your sore cunt. she doesn't know that though. tartaglia quickly offers to escort you to the nurse and you weakly nod as his fingers draw out of you. you almost fall over! thank God your best friend is there to catch you. once you're out of eye and earshot of the bathroom, he's dragging you along to one of the less used bathrooms.

youre trying to be quiet, you really are! but his cock is just sooo good! you're whining into his palm as he slaps into you from behind. your hands are pressed against the plastic walls and the stall is literally vibrating from how hard he's fucking you. you're craning your neck to the side so he can kiss you. one of his arms is holding you down onto him as his other travels down to pinch your swollen clit. you mumble that you're about to cum over and over as his lips find your neck.

"cum for me, my beautiful girl."

and you're squealing into the palm of his hand as you do.

you're both adjusting your uniforms and you're constantly pressing your thighs together to prevent his seed from leaking out of you. you're sighing because you've already told him to not cum inside you in uh.. less optimal situations. he laughs as he apologizes. he just can't resist his best friend's perfect cunt when it's sucking him in just like that!

WRIOTHESLEY.

with the way you are always around and helping wriothesley, the people of the fortress of Meropide have started calling you your Grace's Grace! he thought it was perfectly fitting for you, as you spend a lot of time supporting him as he makes his way through his work.

your support doesn't only end with him though as sigewinne steps into his office to ask about your whereabouts. he claims he's not sure, making up something about you going to visit someone. but he does point her to some herbs and leaves you promised to bring back from your last trip to the surface. She thanked him and stopped in front of the door.

"are you okay, your Grace?"

"y-yes, sigewinne. just a bit tired is all." his voice is strained.

"you need to stop stressing yourself so much. if not for you, do it for her. you know she would hate to see you like this."

he smiles and nods, throwing her a small thank you as she shuts the door. she was definitely right, you hate seeing him stressed. which is exactly why you're under his desk with his cock resting against your tongue. his hands are fisting your hair as a sign for you to go ahead, and he groans as your mouth completely covers his length over and over. your eyes are trained on his frame as you work your tongue around his length. His grip on your hair grows stronger and his hips buck up as he releases in your mouth.

he's practically dragging you out from under the table. he's seating you on top of it, but not before sliding off your pants. he wastes no time pressing wet kisses against your inner thighs and bumping his nose against your clit. you're biting back a moan once his tongue comes in contact with your slit. it's your turn to tangle your fingers in his hair as he secures your legs over his shoulders. you're grinding against his face, whimpering as he switches between fucking you with his tongue and sucking on your clit. his hand releases your thigh so he can dig his fingers into you. the new sensation is what has you shivering against him with your orgasm. he drinks it all up, every single grind, every sound. you're going to be the end of him.

[donatellawritings]

somnophilia with stepbro!rafe i’m begging

𝜗𝜚 porn link!

it was simple — rafe’s stepmother had so kindly asked that he watch over you for the night, you’d gotten caught drinking at the country club earlier in the week, therefore you’d been grounded for the weekend. so, here you laid, asleep on your stomach, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt from a gift shop on the mainland. your leg had been bent upwards, the hem of your long shirt bunched up at your lower back, your bare ass and glistening pussy on full display.

rafe was careful when he entered your bedroom, calvin klein boxers laying dangerously low on his hips as he took a precautionary glance behind his shoulder — despite the two of you being home alone.

gently pushing his knee into your firm mattress, rafe shifts himself to stand on his knees, fisting his pre-cum dripping cock in his warm hand as he licks over his dry lips, “fuck,” he moans, allowing a thick string of spit to drip down from his tongue onto his eager tip.

spreading the sticky spit along his shaft, rafe guides his fat tip into your tight hole, his stomach flexing at the warm squeeze of your pussy, “jesus fuckin’ chris—”

a slightly pained whimper leaves your drowsy lips as rafe continues to ease himself into you, “wha—”

pressing a firm and stilling hand on your lower back, your step brother fills you to the hilt, letting out a guttural groan as the squishy sound you pussy makes, “i know baby — shit — y’can take it,” he soothes, his voice strained and choppy as he finds a consistent rhythm to thrust into you.

raising your head from you plush pillow, you crane your neck to look at rafe, your doe eyes dewy as your jaw slacks open, “rafey … too much,” you hum, your head dropping down onto the pillow as rafe sends a harsh thrust into you.

egged on by the squelching of your slippery and sticky pussy, rafe’s hips slap against the meat of your ass with conviction. “y’doin so fuckin’ good, mama — m’gonna fuckin cum,” he groans, both of his hands now holding your stepbrother up as he ruts into you, the slick of your creamy cum smearing onto his pelvic bone.

letting out a cry of pleasure, you reach a hand behind you, your delicate hand closing around rafe’s strained wrist, your fingernail digging into his gold rolex.

“cum in me, please,” you sigh, half-asleep and half-fucked out as rafe sends a sharp slap to your asscheek.

spreading your asscheeks apart, rafe spits directly on your puckered hole, “gonna fill you up, yeah?” he huffs, watching as you nod wordlessly, mumbled cries leaving your lips as rafe eases his thumb into your tight little asshole, “ah, fuck — there it is, baby,” he hisses, a slight smirk tugging on his lips as your asshole tightens around his thick finger.

now sloppily thrusting into you, rafe grunts through gritted teeth as he massages his thumb into your puckered hole, his warm cum shooting into you as his free hand grips your hip, “hmph! too full, papi!” you whine.

sliding his thumb out of your hole, rafe relishes in the ‘pop’ that comes with its removal, laying a satisfactory tap of approval against your ass as he eases out of your pussy, “y’did good, kid,”

“thank you, rafey,” you shudder, exhaling a giggle as rafe presses wet kisses to your leaking pussy.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

pure fluff, i had 3rd year katsu in mind when writing this :3, kissing and katsuki in a suit <3

“i look fuckin’ stupid.”

you throw your head back and laugh, katsuki glares at you from the mirror he was just glaring at himself in.

“no you don’t, silly !”

“so why’re you lauging, you moron ?” he pouts, shoulders slouching as he stares at your figure in the glass. you lean against his shoulder and smile at his reflection. it squints at you.

“‘cus you’re a baby,” you cut him off before he can continue opening his big mouth, pressing a kiss to his cheek which makes any noise die off awkwardly in his throat “i think you look super handsome.” you whisper, leaning back against his shoulder just in time to see your words register in his brain, the tips of his ears and cheeks dusting into a cute pink. he scoffs and you giggle, shaking him by the shoulders a bit. he grumbles, pretending to nudge you off.

“hate this fuckin’ tie.” he decides to not respond to your compliment, trying to ignore his reaction to it all together. “can’t you just come with me ? you know the hag wouldn’t mind. pretty sure she loves you more than she does me.” you poke his side at the sarcastic remark, he growls at you. this is probably the fifth time he’s asked you to come with him to this business dinner his parents got invited to.

“don’t talk about your mom like that, katsuki. and i can’t just come with, this is like, a family thing right ? i’d feel way out of place” he scoffs hard at that. he wants to tell you that that’s total bull, his mom keeps making jokes about you’ll be part of the family soon anyway, but he’s too embarrassed to tell you that. “tch. whatever.” he ends up scoffing.

“stop making that face.” you chide playfully.

“i don’t like this shit.” he clenches his fists, shoving them in his pockets.

“i know you don’t baby, but you’ll get wrinkles.” you tease again, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and they shake as you hear him scoff in response, but he cranes his neck to give you more space. the button up he’s wearing tightened by that god awful tie as he calls it make it a bit hard to, but you make due. peppering kisses all the way from his neck to his ear, he grunts.

“what if i just..” he trails off.

“just..?” you mumble against his skin.

“don’t. go.” you giggle at his childish complaints and pull away, to which he glares at you in the mirror like you’d betrayed him. you stick your tongue out at his reflexion. it glares harder.

“katsu !” the giggles bubbling out your throat make him throw his head back with a loud groan. “c’monn, look at you !”

he cranes his neck further away, out right refusing to look at his own reflection that has beet red cheeks now, too much praise for one katsuki. “cut it out.” he pushes at your hands wrapped around his middle.

“look at this face !” he growls when you grab onto his cheek and you wrestle with him to get him to just look at himself, but ever the stubborn little shit he is your boyfriend will not. “you’re so handsome ! it’d be a waste not to go. and you spent so much time on your hair !”

“cut being dramatic, took me like five minutes” his eyes look down towards his dress shoes, kicking at the them and voice dying down at your praise. you sigh “you want me to come with you that bad ?”

at that, he looks up at you, not at the mirror but at you. you’re faces are close. he looks hopeful for a second, before he’s hiding it again as his eyes lower to your lips, a habit. “‘m just sayin’..it’d be less unbearable if you were there.”

“awwww—”

“nevermind, fuckin’ take it back.” he groans, you let out a loud laugh. his lip trembles like he’s holding one of his own back. “fine then, suit yourself !” you giggle. he cracks a smile when you jokingly turn your nose up at him. swiftly turning towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. and something about his slightly gelled back hair and the suit and that smirk just does something to you. he really does look handsome (not like he doesn’t usually) you’re sure you have hearts in your eyes.

“thought you didn’t even wanna come.”

“i don’t, but i still wanted you to want me to !”

“that’s confusing as fuck.” he snorts, rolling his eyes again. then he leans in towards you and quickly presses his lips to your before immediately pulling back, he still wants to look at you before he has to go spend time with his parents and pretentious old fashion industry bastards. least you could do was allow him to keep this image in his mind to keep him company.

“i still want you to.” he admits to you, voice gruff from how low he speaks. it’s suddenly very quiet now. and wow, he looks very handsome in that suit.

“i know, handsome. but i can’t. ‘m sorry.” you reach a hand up, trying your best not to mess up his hair too bad even as he leans into you more. maybe he thinks if you mess up his hair enough it’ll foil his plans and make him late so his parents will decide to go without him, nice try.

he sighs, long and very dramatically loud. “ ‘s fine.”

“yeah ?”

“mm,” he grunts “ ‘s not, but i’ll be fine. you owe me though.” a smirk breaks onto his handsome face and it’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you’re glad he’s not actually upset.

just because, you decide to humor him “sure. what do i owe you ?” you catch a peek of his teeth when his smirk widens and he’s on you again, practically dipping you to kiss you. it takes you by surprise and you squeal loudly, wrapping your arms around his neck and trying your best not to wrinkle up his blazer as his hold on you tightens.

he’s about to explore your mouth further when you hear a car honk, katsuki groans and cranes his neck to look out his window just in time to see his mother look up at him. she waves at you but points to him and back to the car, basically telling him to “get his ass over there, stat.” you’ve known katsuki’s mom long enough to decipher it and you feel like you can almost hear her speak. you send your grouchy boyfriend off with a final kiss to his cheek when his mom looks away.

“try to have fun tonight, yeah ?” he grunts in response. “and not to blow anything up ?”

he snickers lightly “no promises.” you share a laugh, and he grabs your hand “i’ll walk you out.” well it’s not like you could’ve just stayed at his house, but you know neither him nor his parents would actually mind that so you stay quiet.

“oh, but you never told me what i owe you..” he freezes, then blinks. a grin settles on his face and he leans in until he’s just a breath away. then he surprises you again by pressing his lips to yours, less roughly than a moment ago but still just as heart racing. he eyes your lips one last time when he looks away like he wants more, instead he smirks, low eyes set on yours.

“just make sure you’ve got one of those ready for me when i see ya next, and we’re more than good.”

[peachysunrize]

Owned ⥃ Prince Regent!Aemond Targaryen

Summary: After nearly following Silverwing to Dragonstone mindlessly, Aemond comes back to the keep to posses you, his Queen once more.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! A tad bit dark!Aemond! There is noooooo plot, brainless smut, absolute filth and dirt and fucking, rough Aemond, possessive Aemond, READER IS AEGON’S WIFE!! public sex! Balcony sex inspired by Aemond’s scene s2e7, breeding, no prep, Aemond is mad and angry, very very rough sex, please tell me if I’ve missed something! English isn’t my first language<33

Word count: 1.5k

My other works

A/n: no words. No plot full of porn. Enjoy my freaky folks! Thank you @thekinslayed for feeding my delusions🤭 Reblogs & comments are appreciated🩷 also not a word is beta-ed.

You watch the buzzing city silently from the council room’s balcony, sighing when the large shadow of Vhagar looms over the sight, her screech cutting through the air with force. You can feel the restlessness in her, it must be Aemond who is raging from inside as he guides her outside the city towards the hill where she rests most of the time. 

You look down at the castle’s grounds; the chill in the air has become a nuisance for the gardeners, bringing the flowers to their deaths faster than expected, just like how the infection spreads through your husband’s body.

With another sigh, you look at the hill Vhagar lands on, the ground shaking beneath her heavy weight. You know it will be some time until Aemond arrives at the castle, but the idea of him being enraged with how a dragon was claimed and the Blacks now have the upper hand makes you worried; you do not know how to calm the wild dragon within him.

You wait until you crane your neck and see him returning on the horse, barging through the castle gates before he jumps down from the saddle, taking long strides towards the entrance with fury bursting through his veins.

Fiddling with your hand, you hear his rushed footsteps approaching the council room, each step has your heart racing — with what? You do not know, or you do not wish to acknowledge it. After all, this silly little affair that the council has bestowed on you to produce an heir has turned into something more, or at least the numbers you have warmed each other’s beds cannot be counted with fingers anymore.

Your head snaps towards the direction of the door, watching as Aemond walks past the guards, ordering them to go out with bark in his tone, fists clenching and unclenching as he tries to keep his anger at bay, but ultimately fails, and the next thing you know is the heavy chair of the council is being thrown and Aemond slams his fists on the table, groaning in anger and frustration.

“They have more dragons,” he whispers, but you hear the sound of his rough breathing, “they can end this war if I do nothing!”

“My prince, you should—“

“I should what?” He looks up from the marble table, glaring at you with his good eye, “Listen to your advice? Letting my council run the realm while I do fucking nothing?”

“Maybe you ought to put your arrogance aside for once—“

Aemond walks towards you on the balcony, his face hardening as he grabs your jaw tightly, smirking as he sees your lips quivering not in fear, but more in determination to show you are more than what the council wants you to be. And with your pretty thighs rubbing together, he knows how every minor actor of his has you putty in his hands.

“My arrogance, My Queen, is the only reason the walls of this castle haven’t fallen yet,” he leans down, his nose brushing against yours roughly as he whispers against your lips, “Not everyone can sit prettily in a gown and wait for her prince regent to come and fuck an heir inside her.”

“Your arrogance and bruised ego are why they have more dragons than us. You could have kept your ambitions from blinding you at Rook’s Rest, maybe then, our King would be able to fight with you at the battlefield—“ you are cut off by a gasp as he turns you around and bends you over the balcony stones harshly.

Your chest comes in contact with the cold stone and you slap your hand on your mouth as a loud moan erupts from your lips when Aemond presses his entire body to your backside, feeling the hard bulge in his pants rubbing against your covered thigh.

“My ambitions are why your filthy inappropriate fantasies have come to life,” he leans over you, his teeth finding their way to the sensitive skin of your neck, sinking into the flesh without a single thought, “did you not tell me you wish it was me taking you every night instead of my brother? Yes, yes, it was you. Just as it is you who will take my cock until my seed has taken root, and my babe — our future King —  licks at your womb.”

You bite down on your fingers hard, grinding your hips back into his crotch as soon as he pushes the layers of your gown up to your waist, chuckling when he sees you shivering the moment your bare heated sex is exposed to the open air.

“We should not be doing this here! What if someone hears?” You ask Aemond, throwing your head back when he swipes his fingers through your wetness, humming before he reaches for the loops of his belt, pulling his pants and breeches down before he grabs his cock, stroking it a few times to full hardness.

“Let them hear, let them hear their queen doing her duty. There is no better way to show them how the heir to the throne was conceived,” he replies, one hand bracing himself on your shoulder blades to keep you completely bent over and unable to move while the other lines up his thick leaking head with your entrance before he enters you swiftly with one smooth stroke.

“Aemond!” You cry out, your fingers falling from your lips as he sets his pace, fucking you recklessly and with abandon, not caring if anyone hears you, or better, sees you. 

“Yes, My Queen? Already screaming my name? I almost pity my brother, almost. Gods know if you have not screamed “Aemond”  in his ears,” he smirks to himself when you grab the edge of the stone, your body moving with each thrust.

“Fuck, fuck—“

“Yes, that’s right—“ he groans, his hand gripping your hip tightly, “you were always mine, fucking mine. Even when you shared his bed, you were thinking of me, wishing and praying that one day you will be owned by me.”

“Yes, My Prince, yes!” You moan, not thinking if anyone would hear you, it did not matter anyway since the words of your affair and marital activities have reached the whores of the Flea Bottom.

“Oh, sweet Queen of mine, I have possessed you; first with words, now with my cock. We only need a babe to seal our bond,” he reaches around your body, finding your pearl in seconds as he starts rubbing quick circles on the nerves, making you arch your back and meet his thrusts as best as possible.

You can only nod at his words, truly succumbing to his and your desires once and for all, the pleasure only adding to his determination to fuck you, and you to show your devotion to him.

“They have more dragons, I have a cunt worth dying for. I guess I shall win this war.”

Suddenly, the doors to the council room open, and the cupbearer drops the jar of wine on the floor when he sees the two of you on the balcony, you moaning and Aemond fucking you. 

The sound catches Aemond’s attention immediately, pulling out of you slowly before he waltzes towards the balcony doors, looking the man dead in the eyes and cock out before he demands; “Out, now,” and slams the doors shut.

He comes back, his fingers wrapping around his dick before he sees you straightening your back a little. He has no time for silly little games, his balls are aching and the image of your swollen cunt is too much for him to let you go and find a better place to resume your activities.

“Aemond—“

“Hush you,” he pushes you back down, bending you over once more before he thrusts his cock back into your welcoming cunt, groaning in sync with your shriek as your warmth envelops his length, “just take it, yes, take it. No one can stop me from taking what’s mine. I will fuck you day and night for fortnights to come, I will have you, mark you as mine until everyone smells me on you.”

Even the idea of it has you shaking and trembling as your peak hits you hard and fast, the pleasure rushing through your veins as you gush around his cock. Hands bracing your body on the stones, you cry out his name, drawing Aemond closer to his high.

He follows not long after, grabbing your waist with both hands before he hammers himself into you roughly, stilling his hips harshly against yours, caging your body between his and the balcony stones as he empties his balls inside you, ropes of his cum painting your inside while he throws his head back, chest rising and falling rapidly.

There is no doubt in your head anymore, that Aemond has possessed you in more than one way, more than one place. After all, he will go to war barehanded if he can come back home to you and your heavenly cunt.

[kawamarii]

names they call you in bed

˖ ࣪ ִֶָ nanami - toji - sukuna - choso - gojo - shoko (separate)

contents Ⳋ multi x f!reader, smut, petnames, spanking (toji), spitting (sukuna), praise (nanami, shoko, choso), degradation (sukuna), daddy kink (toji), size kink (nanami), oral (gojo, shoko), just straight nasttyyy

a/n :: this one’s been sitting in the drafts lol, i felt things writing this

<16 and ageless blogs dni

N. KENTO — SWEETHEART

nanami is always so sweet with you. when he comes home from work, all he wants is to lay down with you, relax, and bury his fat cock into you.

“ken—“ you cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as he kisses all over your face as he sinks his dick inch-by-inch into your sopping pussy.

“i knoww, sweetheart, i got you,” he cooes, his large palm caressing your cheek as he thumbs away the tears. “‘s too big, it won’t fit—!” you gasp, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “mm, it’ll fit, honey. it always does, hm? you always take me so well..” he whispers, his hot breath against the shell of your ear sending a shiver down your spine.

he leans up and looks down at where you two were almost fully connected, and he brings his thumb to your swollen pearl, rubbing circles on it to ease you. “there you go, sweetheart. you got it, hm? let me take care of you now.”

once he fully bottoms out, he gives you time to adjust before bucking into you at a slow pace, your gummy walls clamping down around his girth. nanami is such a gentle man when it comes to you.

Z. TOJI — MAMA

toji always fucks you like it’s the last time he ever will. he has your face buried into the pillows while his hips piston into you, pathetic mewls leaving your lips.

he stills, watching you fuck yourself on his cock as he lets out a guttural groan. “yeaah, back that ass up n’me mama, shiiit,”

he stares at the fat of your ass ripple with each bounce with half-lidded eyes, his jaw slack. “you like fuckin’ yerself on daddy’s cock, hm? pussy’s s’greedy,”

“daddy—“ you babble, your head craning to the best of its ability to look back at him, your nails digging into the soft sheets below you.

“hm? what’s it, mama?” he tilts his head cockily, his hands reaching down to grab your hips and continues to thrust into you. “ah— ‘m gonna cum, toj, please—“

he smiles down at you and nods. “yeah? gonna make a mess on this dick? cmon, do it,” he slaps your ass encouragingly, watching the red handprint form.

R. SUKUNA — SLUT

“you’re lucky i didn’t ravish you in front of all those fuckin’ servants,” he seethed, having you in a mating press as he slams his pelvis to yours in an incredible pace.

“ah! ah! kuna, ‘m sorry, please slow down—!” you cry, but to no avail. he grabs your face to look at his as he speaks. “no. you wanted to act like a slut? now you’re gonna be treated as a slut, so take this dick.”

you moan out, your legs propped up over his shoulders as he fisted the sheets below you. his lips were slightly parted as he watched your tears flow down your cheeks, a sadistic smile lacing his face.

“open your mouth,” he commands, and you dumbly nod, parting your lips. in a quick motion, he spits down on your tongue, and you blink quickly in response. “swallow it.”

you obey, swallowing it and then opening your mouth to show him. he pats your cheek condescendingly. “now you wanna listen? damn, you really are a slut.”

K. CHOSO — BABY

“f-fuck— baby, y’gotta loosen up, okay?” he hisses, his cock buried deep in your cunt as you pant. “promise ‘ll make you feel so good, but you gotta relax, can’t move,”

he knows your overwhelmed, he is too — but the way your clamping down on him makes him feel like he could cum on the spot.

he reassures you, his face next to yours as he sweet talks into your ear, and your tense muscles begin to relax a bit. “there you go, good girl,” he shushes.

“cho, please, need you to move,” you whimper, and he nods. “okay, baby, i hear you. gonna take care of you, okay?” he says, earning a quick nod from you in response that makes a soft smile curl up on his lips.

he begins to thrust into you, a moan leaving his lips. “fuck, you feel so good, you’re so good—“ his hands grip your hips, hard enough to leave marks. he can’t help but become pussy drunk, he’s addicted to you.

G. SATORU — PRINCESS

he’s manspread on the couch whilst your on your knees, his head thrown back as your lips wrap and suck on his cock.

you let out whimpers each time his tip prods at the back of your throat, tears welling up in your eyes as you try your best to take him as far as you can. he looks down at you, his eyes lidded as your struggle only turns him on even more.

“you’re fuckin’ dirty,” he lazily smiles, “you like this, huh? you like having your face stuffed with cock, princess?” he cooed, brushing the strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty skin out of your face. you hum in agreement, the vibration shooting up his spine with a groan.

“go on, then. make me cum with that pretty mouth of yours and i’ll reward you.”

I. SHOKO — PRETTY

she hums against your folds, your hand tangled in her brown strands as she presses a kiss to your pearl. “you taste so sweet,” she says half to herself, looking up at you. “you feelin’ good, pretty?” she cocks her head as she makes up for the momentary loss of her tongue with her fingers.

you nod quickly, too stimulated to form any coherent words. she chuckles, enamored with how adorable you were being. “i know you are, pretty girl, pussy’s so wet,”

you go to say something but she shushes you. “shhh, she’s talkin’ to me, pretty, listen to how fuckin’ loud she is,” she scissors her fingers in your cunt, earning a loud squelch. you flush, hiding your face.

“awh, don’t hide from me, pretty. gonna eat this cunt and i wanna see every reaction, okay?”

© marimisses on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[princessbrunette]

can’t stop thinking about babydaddy!rafe taking toddler!daughter out for the day because you have plans — and he’s not really sure what the best way to entertain a toddler is, so he takes her to the drive-through zoo.

she seems happy enough in her car seat in the back, the buzz-cut kook checking her through the mirror every so often until they arrive there. “alright, y’ready to see some animals? huh?” he coo’s, craning round to look at her as she squeals and bangs her chubby fists in excitement. “yeaaah. you look excited. looove animals, just like mommy — don’t you?” he pulls into the ticket booth, scanning the code on his phone before they let him in, rafe’s large expensive car crawling slowly up the cobblestone.

it’s hard to know if she’s enjoying the sights at first, blinking her big round eyes at the sights that pass her. until of course, she’s confronted with her favourite animal. the animal she was most excited about when daddy told her they were going to the zoo.

“camel!” she yells, and rafe lets the car sit still, the two gazing out their assigned windows at the dusty animal boredly inspecting some grass. “camel from the book, daddy!” she babbles in baby talk, and though he’s got no clue why she’d be so excited over a camel of all animals, or what ‘book’ she’s babbling about — he entertains it anyway.

“thats right, peanut.” he croons, turning in his seat once again to look her way, sunglasses rattling against his chest where they hang from his polo. the camel comes a little closer to the car, and despite your strict instruction — rafe unwinds his daughters window just a tad. “look at thaaat, huh?”

“camel! camel!” she clasps her hands together — the spitting image of you and rafe smiles, all warm and genuine. it was a real shame you couldn’t come today. the camel looks right through the window at his little girl before spitting in disinterest on the ground and continuing to trot away. rafe kisses his teeth.

“yeah walk away from my little girl, rude ass bitch.” he lets slip. it’s quiet, but he knows he shouldn’t say it anyway. luckily for his little girl, she didn’t seem to mind or notice the camels disinterest, happily humming to herself as rafe continues to slowly drive the car along the cobble once more. there’s a couple of seconds of silence — and just as rafe is about to fill it, asking if she’d wanna see the monkeys next, your daughter speaks up.

loud and unabashed, she grins. “bitch!”

rafe blinks, head whipping round to glance at her. “oh sh— uh, nah. honey we don’t uh, we don’t say those things alright? s’a bad word. your mommy will kill me if she hears y—”

“bitch! bitch bitch bitch!” she giggles, clapping her hands together. rafe presses his lips together at his only mistake.

“hey, language kiddo.”

the rest of the day is spent filled with distractions for his little girl. ensuring she forgets all about that naughty word by buying her whatever useless stuffed animal from the drive in zoo, whatever chicken nuggets from the restaurant that she’ll barely nibble on, repeating whatever silly joke that makes her cackle. he’s convinced it works, and soon — even rafe forgets all about the incident.

she’s practically asleep by the time rafe’s handing her back to you at the end of their day.

“was everything okay? did you take pictures?” you smile, looking tired from whatever chaotic day you’d had but still beautiful nonetheless. rafe blinks himself out of a stare quickly, going to answer.

“no yeah, loads uh… i’ll send ‘em through when i get home.” he nods, wiping his hands on his pockets watching the toddler stir, now back in her mothers arms. she gives you a tight cuddle before sleepily craning round to look at rafe, hair all messy and one eye still stuck shut.

“say bye to daddy.” you coo quietly, bouncing her a few times. she’s seemingly too tired, instead offering a tiny fist to wave at him in parting. he smiles, eyes flickering away from you to catch her hand and press a kiss to it before backing up— taking in the perfect family that was just out of his reach before turning back around to walk back to his car, fishing for his keys in his pocket.

then, comes your daughters voice. raspy and sleepy — yet clear and unmistakeable.

“bye bitch!”

rafe slowly spins on his heel, just in time to watch your face turn from confusion, to horror, to pissed off. at him.

[writingangst]

Russian Roulette

Summary: Simon Riley takes notice that the reader has a specific way of reloading her gun, which results in him being paranoid to the point he misreads the situation.

Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

Warnings: violence, angst, cursing, torture, hurt/no comfort.

Words: 2.3K

This was a prompt from Character.AI by user @/kstzii and I had to make this account to post because it really hit the angst spot for me. Hopefully, it does the same for you.

The echo from your sniper rifle was stifled by its silencer as you scored another bullseye. You felt someone's gaze burn into the back of your head. But once you turned, you couldn't see anyone. Must've been my imagination. You reassured yourself as you went back to attempt another shot. No bullets. You quickly reload and reposition yourself to fire off another round.

“What the hell was that?” Your lieutenant's voice called out. You swiftly turned to him. “Reload again.”

“What?” You were caught off guard, the slight hint of a Russian accent slipping out. Shit. You instantly clear your throat to switch back to your usual British accent.

“Are you deaf? I said reload again!” He repeats, his voice booming.

You rearange yourself from your position lying on your stomach, onto your knees, the head of your riffle touching the dirt beneath you. You look at him through slightly narrowed eyes. “Now, why would I reload when I just switched to a perfectly good mag?”

His jaw clenched. You noticied how he was trying to hold himself back. He did this often. You were sharp with your tongue and tended to use it on him often. In more ways than one. Though this time, he didn’t quite seem like he was enjoying it.

“You know exactly what I mean. That was a Russian reload,” he crossed his arms over his chest, the veins in his arms were prominent. It brought you back… No. This was serious.

You laughed it off, seeming unbothered. You were cool. Calm. Collected. Everyone knew you weren’t one to be thrown off your game easily. But this certainley was doing just that. You weren’t about to let him see that though.

With a scoff, you turn your back to him to get a better hold of your gun. “I reckon you haven’t slept, Lieutenant. Could be playing tricks on your sight.”

“I know exactly what I saw,” his tone was cold, but with his clenched fists you knew this was a ticking time bomb. “Do. It. Again.” He ordered in a firm tone. It left no room for any arguments.

You’re stagnant only slightly. There was uneasiness in your stomach at what this could mean. You knew Simon, and you knew Ghost. This was the latter, but you weren’t going to let this play out the way he wanted it to.

“And if not?” You challenge as you turned towards him, eyes sincere as you looked deep into his conflicted ones. “This gonna end in friendly fire?”

In long strides he stepped forward, coming to a halt right in front of you. He pulled you up by your elbow, but you never lost your grip on your weapon. With him being 6’4, you had to crane your neck to look him in the eye. His towering frame was imposing, making you feel small.

He leaned closer, just like he had so many times before. His body only a few inches from yours, but instead of it having the burning effect it usually did, now you were just feeling uncomfortable with the interaction. He was doing this on purpose. He was trying to intimidate you.

“What do you have to lose?” He countered, his voice low, a rumble to his chest.

You took it as a challenge.

With a clenched jaw, you took a step back from him as he severed his grip on your skin. You rid of the magazine wedged within your sniper and your eyes never leave his as you do so. Taking another mag from your tactical gear, you shift to do a simple tactical reload.

He watched you intently, his eyes glued to your every move. You didn’t break a single swet. And even though it seemed like something inherently intimate, you knew it was everything but. Once you finished and kept your straight face on him, he stepped towards you again.

He looked pissed as his eyes flickered to the mag that you just placed into your gun.

“That…” he stated through gritted teeth, gripping your chin with force between his thumb and his forefinger. You were forced to look at him head on. “…isn’t a British reload. Now tell me, who are you really?”

“I’m a simple sniper, sir,” you reply without skipping so much as a beat. “I was chosen for this task because of my outstanding sniper skills.”

Silence ensued.

Then you continued. “But you knew that already. You read my file,” you hissed back at him. “And you’ve trained with me for months, been in my bed, so what exactly are we implying here, Lieutenant?”

He kept his grip on your chin, his fingers digging into your skin. You noticed how he continued to get frustrated that nothing was out in the open like he previously thought it was. He expected you to be defiant, not secretive. A piece was missing and he was paranoid. Something wasn’t right.

Suddently, you’re smashed against the closest tree and your rifle was hitting the ground. You wince as a gruff pained noise falls from your lips once the air is knocked out of you. His vast hand squeezed your neck. Not enough to cut your air supply. Yet. But enough for it to be uncomfortable to breath. There was a sense of betrayal in his eyes and you knew he had assumed the worst.

“You’re a lying Russian spy,” he murmured into your ear with such force you thought you’d faint.

You struggled against him. “I am not Russian, nor am I a spy,” you rasp out as best you can, but you feel him crushing your windpipe. You wouldn’t lie to yourself. You feel hurt. He was one of the closest people you had since joining the 141 task force. Which made you angry. That’s when hurt vacated to make room for the feeling of deception. “But I will not explain myself to you when I have a job to do.”

You attempted to push him off but he was stronger and bulkier than you, making it almost impossible. You understood there that there would be no reasoning with him. Sleep deprivation and high stress levels were obvious indicators of this. You both had been on the field for days, and he had been the one doing most of the lookouts in order for you to get a bit of shuteye. You won’t be a good shot with heavy lids, sweetheart. He once said to you.

“What were you sent to do, huh?” He asked, his voice had lost its edge and now he just sounded distant. “Spy? Assassinate me?”

“Paranoid motherfucker,” you hissed, holding onto his forearm to steady yourself against his grip. “Screw you.”

His eyes narrowed, his grip loosening only slightly. “You sound surprised. You can’t honestly tell me that you expected me to not investigate the mysterious sniper with a Russian reload and accent?”

“And I’m almost certain you couldn’t find a Goddamn thing about anything and that’s why you got me cornered,” you stated as a matter of fact. “I’m not whoever the hell you think I am, and this paranoia is serving to have this mission go south if you don’t let me get to my gun.”

He laughed this time. Honestly, laughed.

You scrunched up your nose. Fuck you, Ghost.

“You don’t think I have dirt on you, sweetheart? I have files on you, more than you can count. I know you, better than you think,” he paused for a second. “I know your weaknesses, likes, dislikes. Everything.”

You laugh bitterly. “I don’t doubt that. Hey, I even had a hand in the shit you know because I trusted you. That still doesn’t mean you know jack shit about what happened in Russia. You’re so inclined? Ask Price!”

“I asked Price!” His hand gave your neck a quick squeeze and you saw how his body trembled. “He didn’t know a damn thing. Said your file was locked and he was denied access. Now why the hell would that be, huh?”

You snorted. “He said that to protect me. I had the whole record wiped. None of this concerns you, Lieutenant. We all went through shit, and you think you’re the only one that’s allowed to be a ghost? Fuck you!”

His eyes narrowed at your words. “Why would he protect you if you have nothing to hide? That makes no sense and you know it.”

“Because my trauma is my trauma! And you have no business budding into it!” 

“And if it’s something that could jeopardize the entire task force?” He muttered, his patience wearing thin. “If it could get everyone killed?”

“You’re an idiot if you think Price would let me anywhere near this damn task force if he considered me a risk,” your voice was cool, but your heart was thumping in your chest. You attempting one last shove that surprisingly caused him to let go. You wheezed when the pressure was off your trachea and you coughed to catch your breath. 

He watched you silently.

Once you composed yourself, you looked back at him as you held your neck. “I thought we were fucking friends, Ghost.”

“Friends?!” He spat exasperatedly. “You really think I would consider you my friend when I know you’re lying? You think I make friends with people I don’t trust?” His eyes were cold, his tone cruel and bitter. “Tell me why I shouldn’t put a bullet between your eyes for the simple deceit.”

Aside from the pain emitting from your neck, there was a hollow ache in your chest that was capturing your attention as well. You would relive the trauma if that would mean getting the job done. But when it came to Simon Riley, he was as good as dead to you.

“I was held hostage by Russian forces for 18 months.”

His stance faltered at that. You don’t think you had ever seen him lose his footing like he had in that instance. And his eyes… Christ, he had never changed his expression so fast. What the hell was that? Pity? He could go screw himself.

You continued. “Anything you can think of in torture, triple that. What kept me alive for so long was the fact they wanted to use me. The only way I got out of the constant abuse was the training. So excuse me if I picked up on a thing or two. Even the Godawful accent that creeps into the British one,” you cleared your throat. “I’m not your enemy, Ghost. But you’re right. I’m not your damn friend either.”

As you explained your past, his eyes never left yours as he listened carefully. He expected many things, but he hadn’t taken into consideration you being a literal prisoner to Russian forces. For once in his life, he was speechless. The thought that you had lived through a year and a half of torture at the hands of the Russians was something he could barely imagine.

His gaze had softened, but he hardened again when something wasn’t clicking for him. “Doesn’t explain why your file is locked.”

You snorted humorlessly. “Ever heard of Price’s little sister?”

His eyes widened at the mention of her. The captain was hush hush about the matter, but it was a well known fact he had family within the military. And that she was KIA some time ago. “What about her?”

“You’re looking at her.”

Those were the last words he expected to come out of your mouth. Shock and surprise flashed behind his mask as he finally realized what this meant.

“You’re…” He paused, trying to process the bomb that just exploded in his face. “You’re Price’s sister?”

“In the flesh,” you replied with the same cold tone he had been using earlier with you. “You’re not the only one trying to be ghost. You’ve just never been questioned by the task force on it like you just did to me.” 

What could he say to that?

“I took a bullet for you, Lieutenant,” you reminded him. “What fucking spy does that for the opposite team?”

His jaw clenched and you saw how his mask flexed due to it. His eyes showed how he replayed that memory in his head. It was something he thought about constantly. You had saved him, and he hadn’t seen it coming. He had been so focused on you being a spy that he hadn’t stopped to consider that you were actually on his side.

“I never should have questioned you,” he admitted, his voice quiet as he met your gaze again.

Your hand shot up to stop him from saying anything else on the matter. “It’s done. We’re done here.”

He watched as you walked away to pick up your gun, his mind racing with thoughts but they were too fast for his tongue. He knew he had messed up. He had completely misjudged the situation with the accusations thrown at you when in reality your connection to the task force was stronger than even his.

The irony in the situation wasn’t lost on him, but he didn’t find it funny.

“Wait,” He sighed, taking strides to catch up to you.

“This is unprofessional, Lieutenant,” you stated, dusting off your weapon as you checked for any malfunctions. “We’re in the middle of an active operation. I’m done talking.”

He exhaled a frustrated sigh as you dismissed his attempt at talking to you. He knew you were right, that the mission was what mattered now. But he couldn’t help the feeling that he needed to apologize. It was clawing at his chest, the emotion raw in his throat, asking to be let out in word vomit.

“You can’t honestly expect us to just ignore what happened and continue on like normal?”

Silence followed.

You didn’t even look at him.

“Go back to being Ghost, because Simon Riley is fucking dead to me.”