#SORRY NOT SORRY THIS IS SOME DELICIOUS FUCKIN FOOD

[sivisek524]

Hi, it's me! The "silly little Czech ass" and I like this post a moderate amount:)))))) I am normal about this:))) do not look at tags idk what you're talking about

Hi there, I'm new here, and love your work sm. My silly little Czech ass got positively jumpscared at the Fiala name, and then I discover he's got Czech/Polish ancestry. AND THAT HE KNOWS THE LANGUAGE? I AM SHOOK. The fact that he could speak to me in my native language is so cool. Like you have NO idea how excited the fact makes me.

a/n: I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS SO MUCH! it's honestly why i love writing ocs with different backgrounds becos i want to jumpscare people like this!

casimir fiala ★ profile

Hell yeah he'd speak to you in Polish or in Czech! He's had a lot of practice speaking with his grandparents so the words flow smoothly off his tongue. In fact, when he speaks English, there's a bit of an accent there that makes it seem that he's been speaking Polish his whole life. He might even call you cute endearing nicknames in Czech, especially if it catches you off-guard every single time or if makes you a bit flustered.

But you know the best part? He literally inherited both his grandparents' recipes so you know he makes the best Czech food. When you're sick, he makes the warmest and most comforting soup. And then fried cheese or potato pancakes for snacks? Always! And whenever you're craving a good warm kolache, he'll have one ready for you immediately.

He loves his heritage because his grandparents have raised him with love and he has good memories with it. So he literally incorporates it daily in his life and there's no way he wouldn't love sharing all of that with you too

[divinedelusional]

rafe being grumpy when he's sick

rafe cameron x female reader

word count: 678

warnings: none

rafe never got sick anymore like ever

ever since he hit puberty he wasn't catching cold anymore, no health problems (expect for being fucked in the head)

so to say you were surprised when you saw him lying in bed under a thick duvet in the middle of summer would be an understatement

"yo topper what happened to rafe? i leave for three days and my boyfriend's completely wiped out??"

"is he asleep?"

"yeah! that's what's weird!"

"weird? girl you're lucky he's asleep, he's been a complete diva last two days"

rafe woke up after an hour and told you that he must have got sick when they were out at the beach and suddenly it started pouring cold rain and he was soaked before he got in the car

"yeah they brought me some syrup so cough is gone, but who gives a shit, this fuckin fever is too much anyways"

turns out rafe barely ate the last two days since he couldn't get out of bed and he was sick of the food topper and kelce were ordering for him

"wendy's not a type of food you eat when you want to get better rafe"

"hell i know, but what, is it my fault i have to have idiots as friends?"

you rolled your eyes and told him to lay down with cold compress for the fever

in the meantime you drove to get grosseries and made him chicken soup

you could see he really liked it but when he ate he mumbled a quiet "thanks" and went upstairs

that's the last you saw him that day and you were kinda mad at him

next day it didn't got better since he noticed you didn't come to bed last night

"i went to guest bedroom, im not catching whatever you got"

you didn't see him much for another day, only when he was coming to the kitchen for next bottle of water

so at least he took your advice to stay hydrated

not like you could hear him saying: hydration this, hydration that, who tf would want to pee that much

topper was right, you lived with a diva under one roof

grumpy, 6'2, hoodie clad diva

but on the third day you were finally about to reach a truce

rafe came for breakfast and you could see he felt better, as he was almost smiling and wasn't shivering

you ate breakfast in silence but he followed you like a lost puppy to the couch where you sprawled out to watch tv

you were watching real housewives of atlanta and rafe sat down with you for 3 episodes fourth now staring

he was quiet but all of the sudden he started to complain how awful it is to be sick in the summer

he tried to grab your attention, he knew you were testing him, you never binged rhoa for that long

you also knew exactly what he was doing, he was trying to make up with you but you weren't having his ways, so you informed him that you're going to take a swim

rafe was upset that his plan didn't work out, apparently not only sitting through four episodes of rhoa wasn't enough sacrifice for you but it also made him hungry

so he decided to win you back with very simple and little bit goofy solution

you came back after hour and a half, also hungry

you found rafe sitting at the table

there was a faint delicious smell in the kitchen

"you made soup?" you asked rafe after taking a peek to his plate

rafe didn't respond and held out a spoon to you, letter pasta forming words: im sorry bby

you couldn't be mad at him anymore

you ladled yourself a bowl of soup and formed a response on your spoon as quickly as you could

rafe smilled at words ur cute and let out a chuckle

"i missed this smile" you said and kissed him lightly, happy when you felt him smiling into the kiss

"and i missed those lips"

a/n: my first work for rafe, hope it was okay and feedback is really appreciated ♡

bottom divider by: @astralnymphh

[sebsxphia]

Do you know that audio on TikTok that’s like I made love to my wife 4 times and this morning she made pancakes and whatnot? Could you do a story where it’s the daggers and this is how they find out about bobs wife?

don’t stop.

robert ‘bob’ floyd x reader.

￫ summary: jake attempts to catch bob out, but bob has something to reveal.

￫ word count: 1K.

￫ warnings: mentions of sex, smut and food.

￫ authors notes: i hope i based this off the right sound, my dear anon! 🥹 i’m sorry this took so long too 🥺 my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

Bob stood beside Natasha in comfortable silence as they dressed in the appropriate gear, ready for a test flight.

They instinctively turned to face one another when the other needed help attaching a certain piece to their suit or tightening their straps. They had grown un-deniably close over the past two years, and they knew each other’s movements step by step.

Natasha’s eyebrows raised, and she let out a small groan. “Here they come.”

Bob’s breath hitched as he heard the booming voices coming through the door.

Javy sauntered in, with Jake on his heels, both snickering about something like schoolboys.

“Oh, Jake, you wouldn’t believe it.” They both swung open their lockers in sync. At a glance, you wouldn’t think that they flew separately. They were so similar as they mirrored the movements of getting their gear on.

“I made love to her four times last night. This morning, I got pancakes. She woke up at six to make them for me before I left. God, I fuckin’ love my wife.”Javy boasted with prideful laughter.

Jake only spurred him on, with a proud slap on his back and matched Javy’s amusement.

However, at Javy’s confession, Natasha snorted quietly to herself.

Jake’s head cocked to the right of him and his eyebrows raised with a questioning glance her way. He leaned back against the lockers containing their gear and attached some to himself.

“What’s so funny, Nat? You tellin’ me you could beat Javy’s record?” Jake questioned her with a smug grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

By this time, Mickey, Rueben, and Bradley had all filtered into the room as well. They didn’t want to interrupt the ego-boosting feud that was currently unfolding in front of them. They geared up in silence but still listened with eager ears, their eyes flicking back and forth between Jake and Natasha.

She took a sharp breath between her teeth and broke Jake’s questioning gaze. She purposefully didn’t look back at the guys but calmly stated, “Well, I made love to my wife six times, and yeah, I also got breakfast.”

The silence from them both was telling. She continued fixing her gear and calmly played off her triumphant feat. It was as though it was the most normal thing in the world for her (which wasn’t far off).

She heard Bradley’s hushed whistle of “Oof,” and she smiled proudly to herself as she looked down to see where she was fiddling with a buckle on her suit.

Bob, on the other hand, had watched the entire exchange before him, with bated breath. His eyes were wide behind his glasses, and the corner of his lips twitched into a grin as he saw Jake and Javy’s bewildered faces.

If only they knew how good you were for him last night. If only they knew how pretty you looked on your knees and spread out on the soft linen, all for himself. If only they knew how pretty you sounded, as you whimpered and whined his name all—

“Bob!” Jake’s biting tone snapped his attention straight towards the blonde-haired man. “You’re lookin’ smug for a guy, who, as far as we know, hasn’t been laid in… two years?” He questioned with faux interest.

Natasha immediately belted out an amused, “Ha!”

She knew Bob better than anyone here. She had met you, Bob’s long-time wife. Natasha and her wife had been to dinner with Bob and you. She had been to BBQs in your backyard and tried your delicious home-cooked macaroni and cheese. You were even invited to her bachelorette party when she got married.

Natasha also knew that no one else knew.

Bob was private about his life away from the naval base. He had his reasons, but more than anything, he appreciated the peace he shared with his one love. You.

Jake’s jeering and deeply imposing question made his eye twitch a little from behind his glasses. He pushed his frames up the bridge of his nose with his index finger, before looping his hands into the gear on his chest. He puffed out his chest slightly and stood confidently across from Jake.

“Well? You got a wife?” Jake asked the question carelessly and casually, making Bob squirm. He severely despised people thinking about his wife like that, as if you weren’t the moon to his sun.

A beat, and Bob responded. “Yeah.”

Javy’s mouth fell open in disbelief. Mickey and Ruben had turned around to watch the whole thing by then. They nudged one another in the ribs and whispered, “I told you so!”

Bradley didn’t flinch. He knew. He saw Bob and you on the beach one evening. Bob gave him a curt nod, and when he arrived at the Navy base the next morning, Bradley swore he wouldn’t tell anyone. He understood, more than anyone, why people kept their private lives away from here.

Jake snorted, although he blinked furiously as Bob’s statement took him aback. “Okay then, Baby, how many times did you make love to them last night?”

He crossed his arms over his broad chest in an attempt to shield himself from perhaps being scolded by Bob Floyd.

“Once.”

“Once?! Oh, Bob.” Jake mocked with faux sympathy. “And did they make you anything this morning?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Bob’s gaze narrowed fiercely towards Jake. “My wife was asking me not to stop.”

There was a deafening silence, and then a chorus of bellowing laughter and jeers echoed throughout the room.

Even Javy let out a loud chuckle, gripping Jake’s shoulders and playfully shaking him. “He got you there!”

Bob cocked his head at Jake, with an assured smile now etched fully onto his lips. He asked if Natasha was ready, and then they both headed out onto the tarmac, leaving Jake behind, practically frozen in shock.

Once the rest of the guys had had enough playful jabs towards him, they all made their way out to join the others. But Jake felt a firm hand on his shoulder as the tall brunette towered over him.

“Don’t assume stuff like that, Hangman. Wait until you find out that he has a kid.”

taglist: @floydsmuse @beachbabey @tallrock35 @luckyladycreator2 @unmistakablyunknown @birdy-bat-writes @thedroneranger @kmc1989

tagging those who may be interested: @becks-things @rhettabbotts @hangmanapologist @lewmagoo @peachystenbrough @thecowboyfiles @auroralightsthesky @beautifulandvoid

[whore-ibly-hot]

"Special Delivery."

Yan!Boarding school stoner (Tyler) x Fem reader

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: P in V sex, yandere behavior, Dub-con, drugging, mentions of weed, class economic divide? Spying, obsession, stalking, general yanderes, mention of drugs, taking advantage.

"Come on, it'll be funny!" Tyler whines through the door, and all you can do is sigh. The schools premiere culinary student and local pothead is standing in the hallway just outside your dorm, boxed up thing of greasy breadsticks, chicken parm, and an oven fired pizza in hand. Hand brushing back his hair, he knocks his forehead lightly against the door. "Cmonnnnnnnn, if you don't let me in now, Carters gonna chase me off n' we won't be able to hang out at all, even without this-"

He's taken aback as the door swings open, revealing you in your late night garb, prepped for movie night. He's thrilled to see you, and immediately enters the spiel he had prepared. Dropping the pizza box a little lower over his crotch playfully, he raises his voice a bit so you have to let him in your room. "Hey, pizza delivery," he coos, "got an order for DORM 113!" He yells over his shoulder, prompting you to drag him in with an embarrassed groan. "Somebody called in for an extra large sausage?"

"Gross, keep it down!" You scold, letting him in as you shake your head. "What is wrong with you?" He shuffles in and sets down the food.

"What? Am I not good enough, you specifically asked for the Italian place to send their sexiest delivery guy."

"Oh, was he off tonight?" You ask, and Tyler slaps his hand over his chest in mock offense. Flopping onto your bed, feeling the worn, school-provided material squeak and rustle below your weight. You roll over to face him. "Well, despite you being fuckin gross, I'm sure the food is good. What did you bring?"

"Got some Chicken Parm, some soggy-ass buttery breadsticks, and my Tyler special." He proudly holds up the box.

"A new special? Seems like everytime we talk you've got a new signature special dish."

"Nah, this one is definetly the best my-my genius science man brain has come up with, dude!" He assures, flipping open the box. The smell of warm baked cheese and pizza wafts to your nose.

Smiling, you both take some bites of the pizza, topped with all sorts of odd things. It's nice, admittedly, it does taste good. "Thanks for coming over, Tyler. This food does all look amazing."

"Course, man. Anything for my favorite newbie." He assures. The pair of you tuck in to the food, gorging yourself on the delicious food.

"Where's Pez?" You ask curiously as you lean back on your bed, having chucked a paper plate away and cleaned up a bit. You don't want any clutter on Harrisons side of the dorm.

"Where do you think, man?" Tyler groans, scooting back. "He's got detention again. He wanted to smoke a fat one before class but I was like 'Nah, let's just take one of my bomb-ass pot brownies, cause I knew he'd get caught cause this grass he's been using lately has a crazy sce-"

"Tyler." You giggle, looking at him and he shrugs, putting his hands up.

"My bad, sorry, back on track. Anyways, like I said, he totally got caught, and now he doesn't get to chow down. Shoulda listened to me, man." He brags. After a moment, he sits back up and glances away. "So, listen, we've eaten and stuff, what do you wanna do now?" He asks, though you can see him tilting a head back to his bag. "Dessert?" He suggests.

"You didn't-" You say, as he gets a small baggie from his backpack and gives it to him. "I told you, Pez wanted to have that blunt, so I had some extra edibles, you know?" He explains. "Okay, I promise I put some good shit in here, some new strain I bought. Were gonna get kinda sleepy, but to be fair it could just be the pasta." You take one and do a silly little cheers motion before taking a bright of the dense, moist brownie.

"Its great." And it is. For a bit. After the brownie settles in your stomach, a new feeling begins settling in there too. Something warm, tingling. "Mhmm, uh, Tyler? Are you feeling okay?" Glancing at him, his tan skin is flushed, eyelids a little droopy.

"I dunno, man. I feel kinda funky, and not like, in a bad way?" He's laying down on your bed, chest fast against your pillows.

"Maybe something was off with that weed?" You ask, shaking your head and woozy standing. The room spins a bit, and the pleasurable throb in your waist continues. "Let's go to the nurse. We can lie and say we just ate something bad."

Tyler doesn't get up to follow you. "N-nah, I'm sure it's just the food settling, probably. Let's stay here." He whines.

"No, cmon, Tyler. We could get really sick-" You tug on his limp arm to get him to sit up, only to figure out why he was so hesitant. "Oh!" You immediately drop him.

"Told you. Don't think it's 'bad weed' doing this. Sorry." He admits, looking down.

"So we're like, on those gas station sex pills or something? You said this was supposed to be a relaxing strain!" You exclaim. "That it'd help us sleep!"

"I thought it would! You know, keep up all warm and fuzzy till we drifted off... the label said 'bed fever'." He trails off, and you immediately freeze.

"Tyler, that's not-"

"Aw, shit!" He smacks his forehead and drops his face into his hands. He's clearly embarrassed and still sporting an erection which he tries to hide as best he can in his loose shorts. "I wasn't even thinking, that isn't what that means at all, is it?" You shake your head. "Feel like such a perv. I'm sorry man, I ruined this. Uh, maybe there's a way online to reverse it."

You shake your head and sit next to him. "No, it's okay. I know you didn't mean to, and to be fair you were probably high when you bought this." He nods, brown eyes sad and wide as he looks at the floor. You gently brush his long black hair behind his ear, rubbing his arm. "Its okay, it really is. We... I know harrisons out for a game, we can hunker down in here 5ill it passes."

"I know what to do." Tyler perks up, smacking his knee as he does it with courage. He seems determined. "Let me make it up to you."

"What?" You exclaim. It's your turn to flush, cheeks reddening as you swallow. "I don't know what you mean-"

"Its not gonna go away, you said so yourself. And if Harrison isn't coming back, you shouldn't have to suffer cause I accidentally laced your shit." He grabs your hand and squeezes it with his soft but callous ones. Another goes to your head. "See, you're burning up just like me, man-"

"I'm really fine." You lie. If the weed wasn't having an effect, his desperate and caring words paired with his big hands on you certainly was.

"Nah. I know it's having an effect, I'm hard as a rock right now, never seen my dick this mad. I know you've gotta be jonesing for some friction right now, babe." He puts a hand just over your inner thigh, but doesn't go further. "We don't have to, but if you'd let me I'd focusing on making it good for you. Making it up to you for my mistake; no reason you should have to be sitting there with a wet fucking kitty between those legs aching for something good cause of my mistake and me not giving it to-"

"Okay!" You yell. "Okay, just stop talking like that, we can have sex. Just keep it down." You've never heard him speak that bluntly about sex, he's more of an innuendo guy, but the weed clearly is having an effect. Still, it's sweet he seems so worried about your pleasure right now.

"You won't regret it. I'm gonna make this good for both of us, I promise. Gonna out-" He pauses and laughs as he slips of his shorts, making you raise a brow. "Gonna put this extra large sausage to good use."

You scoff and smack his chest. "I'll just touch myself if you're gonna be corny while we do this." You warn as you undress, dropping panties down of your legs and kicking them across the room.

"I'm not against seeing that either, but this is about me making it up to you." He reminds you. You both don't even bother with your stops, your pussy is throbbing in a way that makes your legs shake, and Tyler's still attentive even in his state of arousal. "Lay down man, no reason to be sitting. Gonna wear out those pretty thighs before we even get down to it." He adjusts some pillows behind you so they can properly cradle you to look at him without straining you. He wraps your legs up around his waist, the very ends of his hair tickling your feet. His touch is firm, but he's clearly taking in the scene in a calculated way. You've only seen him focus this hard on his passion for cooking, though you suppose this moment has plenty of 'passion' too.

"How do you wanna play this?" He asks, and you tilt your head, confused and resisting just humping away at his front for any kind of stimulation. "I mean, I know I'm aching to get my dick in you, but this is about you. You want it slow, o-or fast, or I can even just eat you out, I hadn't thought about you not wanting me in-" He's rambling now, his focus melting to anxiety. You press a single finger to his lips, and it seems to calm himself a bit. He sighs and looks down sheepishly. "Sorry."

"I want you in. Not too fast, but set a good pace. I'll let you know what feels good. I'm not used to what I like when I'm on weird horny-weed."

He laughs, one hand adjusting his meaty tip against your folds. Just the feeling makes you twitch, and as much as you would usually like taking your time with something as... impressive as his cock, you're both enduring the full brunt of the aphrodisiac now. You let out a slight hiss at the sudden stretch as he pushes in, but the drug has ensured your well lubricated.

"Shit..." He groans, sinking further to sheathe himself in your heat. "God, you feel so wet, so fucking wet. Holy shit- i-is this okay?" Through his own pleasure, he's resisting the urge to just start pounding away to make sure he's not going to deep to quick.

"No, s' good." You confirm, let the feeling of his hot member getting settled in you wash over you. "You can move, maybe just... angle a bit? Up?" You grumble.

He nods, adjusting his angle as he begins to roll his hips in and out of your limp form. You moan, feeling his weeping tip almost immediately brush an electric spot deep within you. "Fuck, god, yeah, there. Mm, right up there. You're really good at this."

He smiles, sweetly burying his head against your neck as he instinctively kisses a tender spot. His hands steady your hips as he thrusts away. "I'm good at following instructions, man." He groans. "S' why I'm such a good cook."

You snort, he can't seem to stop cracking jokes, even when he's balls deep in you. It's not long before the knot in your stomach grows tighter.

"Tyler, baby-" You feel his length twitch at the pet name. "Think it's happening, think I'm about to finish-" he nods his head rapidly along to each of your words.

"Lemme cum too, yeah? Not inside, but lemme cum with you, please, please man-" He's begging. "You're just fucking gripping down on my shit, and I-"

"Its okay, I'm on the pill." The idea of finishing inside is what sends him over the edge. His hips pick up the pace, cock eagerly seeking out the spongy spot inside you that makes you cry out as he spurts one, then two hot streams of cum.

"Fuck, fuck yeah, right there-" You're ability to keep quiet for fear of nearby dorm students hearing you disappears as the knot inside you zaps away into a red-hot pulsing in your womb. Groaning, you both ride out the high till he collapses just over you, continuing to nibble and kiss at your neck as a string of curses and praises leaves his loose lips.

After a moment, when the weed and the sex high seem to have worn off, he grabs some napkins that came with the food, rather unceremoniously dabbing you clean before chucking them. "Water for the lady," he hands you a cup, and you smile weakly from where you've wallowed in your sheets.

He grabs his boxers and slides them back on before finishing the food clean up you had begun. "No, Tyler, let me help with that." You try to stand, but he just gently pushes you back down. "Nah. I brought it, I'll clean up. Besides, I'm sure you've never had a guy rail your guts like that before, and you need to rest." He puts his hands up with a cheeky grin. "I appreciate the compliment. Huffing, you just roll over.

"Just..." You pause. He turns from where he was at your door, trash bag in hand and tilts his head. "Just come lay down when you're done." Another smile adorns his face. "Of course, man." He smiles.

In the hallway, there's a small 'ping' from his phone that gets his attention. A contact with a rather childish photo of Pez holding up a middle finger pops up. He looks at the message.

"How'd it go?" The message reads. Tyler types back.

"Fine. We had a good time, she's real fucking sweet. A total babe, keeps a cute room."

Another 'ping'. "You know what I meant. The weed, I told you it was intense, I tried it once." The text reads. "Thought my dick would fall off. You didn't use too much, right?" Pez asks.

"Course not." Tyler responds, typing with one hand as he chucks a trash bag into the chute. "I'm good at following instructions."

[sturnioz]

fratboy!chris has no reason to hang out with girls if there's no fucking involved — but it's a little different with shy!reader.

the subway car is fairly quiet, the faint hum of the train along the tracks the only sound breaking the stillness. a few strangers occupy random seats, each absorbed in their own world — some listen to music through plugged-on earphones and bluetooth headphones, some are busy reading their books, turning their pages softly, and others have surrendered to their tiredness, their eyes closed, heads leaning against the cool metal poles or the windows.

you're sitting on one of the wall seats beside chris, your anxiety bubbling beneath the surface as your teeth gnaw on your bottom lip, a nervous habit. your leg bounces restlessly, tapping against the hard floor as you glance up at the digital clock on the train's schedule, the late hour staring back at you.

now, you don't have a curfew at all — but you've always been mindful of getting home at a reasonable hour to avoid worrying your parents, and with your phone dead and unable to call them about your whereabouts, a wave of unease washes over you at the thought of getting into some sort of trouble.

chris is calm and relaxed beside you, his legs comfortably spread, knee bumping against yours as the train ways. his head rests back on the wall, eyes closed, while he chews on a stick of a lollipop that he devoured minutes ago, the muscles in his jaw twitch with each chew.

spending the entire day together was a little odd. you were originally heading to the city alone (after mustering up the courage when your friends had told you they all had plans) and you had bumped into chris on the way into the station. he was straightforward with his questioning, wondering why someone as shy as you would go to the big city alone, before announcing that he was coming with you.

the two of you spent the day walking the busy streets of the city, going into your favourite little thrift stores — which you felt embarrassed with when chris followed you inside instead of heading to a different store, making small comments under his breath and snorting at the little trinkets he came across. when he had led you towards the large stores, the price tags that made you squirm, you trailed behind like a little puppy, feeling out of place.

and when you went to go eat, that's when time had seemed to go by so quickly. you were enjoying yourself in the markets, eating delicious foods at stalls that left your stomach full — although you definitely made some room when chris brought you to one of his favourite dessert stalls, sharing a chocolate fudge and cherry sundae.

"will you fuckin' stop, kid?" chris grumbles suddenly, interrupting you from your memories of today, and your eyes flit to him. his hand lands firmly on your knee to stop your restless bouncing. "you're pissin' me the fuck off with your thumpin'... like a fuckin' rabbit, jesus christ."

"sorry." you whisper an apology, warmth riding to your cheeks as you try to steady your nerves, but it only spikes when you realise chris' hand remains on your knee.

"you need to relax, a'ight? because you on edge right now is.. well, it's makin' me all fidgety 'n shit. just relax... breathe," he tells you as he shifts, his head rolling to the side to meet your gaze, his eyebrows scrunched. "seriously, kid, what's got you all jumpy? huh?"

"it's late," you murmur quietly, glancing at the digital clock once again.

"late?" chris echoes, the corner of his lips twitching in amusement. "what? don't tell me that you got a curfew or some shit?"

"no, no," you shake your head. "it's just that... i always make it home at a certain time so my parents don't have to worry about me, and not only did i go into the city today, but my phone is dead too. i'm really worried that they've been trying to call me and—"

"okay, okay, okay," chris interrupts your rambling, a huff escaping his lips as he shifts his hips, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. "you know your parents' number, yeah? jus' call from my phone, kid. tell 'em you got busy and your phone died — it's easy."

you nod slowly, taking a much more relaxed breath as you accept his phone to do just that. chris scoffs quietly, resuming his chewing on the lollipop stick while squeezing your knee, before slumping his head down nonchalantly on your shoulder, listening as you speak to your parents — completely unaware of you trying to keep your voice steady and ignoring the flurry of butterflies through your stomach at the close proximity.

© STURNIOZ

[konigslittleliebling]

Ughhhh your Hound is always so delicious, makes me want to rewatch GoT just for him. Anyway...would you ever consider writing some fluffy domestic stuff with him spending time with his woman and their kids? 🥺🙏🏻 Pretty please with sprinkles on top? 🩷

you should definitely rewatch it! i actually have a oneshot for husband!sandor with his children in my drafts, but i thought this up on the spot specially for you, dear anon 🌷

table of contents; just fluff and strong language :)

the sweet smell of lamb over goose fat-fried potatoes sings to him as he approaches the front door to your house, joints groaning amongst the clinking of his armour. beyond the small square window to your kitchen he can hear the giggling of his children, and that firm little voice of yours telling them not to run when the stove is lit.

“what have i told you about running near hot pots?!” you scold.

“sorry, mama!” his two oldest respond.

the door groans like a maester on its hinges and he ducks his head to fit through the frame. “i hope you gremlins haven’t been too much trouble for mummy.” he says, unbuckling his sword and placing it out of a child’s reach.

your shoulders relax and you smile. “you’re home, finally.”

he chuckles and cranes your head back by the neck to kiss you. “something smells nice.” then he lets out a winded grunt when two tiny humans crash into his legs.

your daughter makes grabby hands and your husband rolls his eyes in jest, then bends down to pick her up. your son still clings to his leg as sandor walks to the table, still able to do so as if the boy weighs nothing.

“i made this for you!” your daughter chirps, pulling something from her pocket. she’s proud as she presents it to him and you watch on fondly from the stove.

sandor gasps and plucks it from her chubby little fingers. “for me?” he turns it in his hand, studying it. it’s a stick, with four smaller twigs tied to it and a piece of yellow string stuck to the top with mud. “it’s. . . what the fu—” he stops himself, just as you arch a brow. “—what on earth is it?”

“a princess!” she tells him, fidgeting excitedly in his arms. “someday, i’m going to be a princess, you’ll see!”

“fucking hope not!” your son chimes. sandor’s hair and eyes aren’t all he’s inherited.

for a moment your husband seems proud, until he catches a glimpse of your unimpressed expression. so he reaches down and smacks the boy lightly upside the head. “boy, watch your mouth. . . around your mother.”

you place your hands on your hips. “sandor.”

“what?” he smirks. “i fuckin’ hope she doesn’t become a princess, too.”

you sigh and turn back to your cooking, shaking your head as your children giggle.

“and i did this!” your son runs past you toward the stairs, his footsteps frantic as he hurries to his room. the ceiling creaks as he does, then you hear a loud thud followed by a groan. you look up at the spot where he fell and it’s quiet for a second, then you hear him get back up and sprint for the stairs.

“that is why i tell you not to run.” you chastise, eyeing him as he jogs back into the kitchen.

“what is it?” sandor squints at the piece of paper his son handed him.

“it’s us!” your son climbs onto his father’s lap, pointing at his painting. “that’s me, that’s « daughter’s name », that’s mummy, and that’s you!”

“why am i so bloody round?” sandor asks, glaring at the artwork. you chuckle to yourself as you plate up the food.

“because you are.” your son tells him, pointedly poking the man’s stomach through his chainmail.

“little shit.” you hear your husband mumble. “where’d you get this paint, anyway?”

“what paint?” you frown, turning to peer at the paper. “i thought you used all of your paint.”

your son falls silent, fiddling with his hands.

“he stole some from the stall in flea bottom!” your daughter dimes him out and he gasps, hitting her on the arm. “liar!”

“flea bottom? what in seven hells were you doing down there?!” you snap, leaning against the table to glare at him. “and don’t you hit your sister!”

“—without expecting her to hit you back.” sandor adds, and motions for your daughter to hit him. she does, harder than he did her.

“sandor.” you hiss.

“did you get caught?” he asks your son, ignoring you.

your son pouts as he rubs where your daughter smacked him. “no, father.”

“good lad.”

“sandor!”

[corey-wh0re]

I can't believe we're probably gonna have to wait another 2 years for more episodes.

-Everything I was saying the whole season about Shauna driving everybody away & isolating herself coming to fruition & this food is SO fucking delicious! Even as much of a fan & enabler of her as I am, we have GOT to address how Shauna was getting WHACKED harder the whole of this finale than the verbal lashings Melissa gave her back in her kitchen. From Jeff & Callie abandoning her to Tai's "Just don't." + "It's Shauna's fault that Van is dead. Really, it's her fault that Natalie is dead too," to Misty's "The shock of you taking responsibility for your actions just might give you a stroke" + "She was desperate for someone to talk to :(...you were busy eating your ex-girlfriend's arm, soooo :/" to everyone agreeing to the hunt to fool her to Travis directly. throwing Jackie back in her face to Melissa LITERALLY whacking her in the face with that fuckin log, this is the most we have seen the writers pile onto Shauna at one time that I just HAD. to laugh my ass off something else happened because not a bit of it is registering to her like it should. As much as I can either ferociously enjoy the violence she indulges in or be frustrated with her actions on behalf of other characters I love, she was sooooooo hard to take seriously this finale, particularly with her present day monologue in mind. Like, it is honest to god embarrassing when every currently surviving member of the YJs has shown a capability & means for violence, ESPECIALLY now that Van is dead giving Tai & Misty a reason to take up arms against her while Melissa is fucked off to wherever. Despite E V E R Y T H I N G we have seen her do & what she is capable of, Shauna thinking that she's gonna ~start taking it back~ after blowing up her whole life in the context of EVERYTHING. else this season & this finale is so utterly ridiculous that the only thing you can. do is laugh. The fact she is out here like, "Yes, baby, I was THE QUEEN!" in the same breath that we're getting to see that Antler Queen™ was literally JUST. the rest of the characters going, "We are doing this to placate you, you deranged animal, because you are so self-involved & transparent that we knew nothing else would work than manipulating you in this obvious way," is the worst possible thing (positive) these writers could've done to Shauna's character because it is such a slap to the face & she has succumbed so completely to her own ego that she does not see it I just fdjkshjdfskdsfj. Absolutely phenomenal work by Sophie Nélisse & Melanie Lynskey once again, though. We better be seeing some award recognition after how much work they have put into this disaster bisexual terrorist dictator from hell.

-On the directly opposite end of the spectrum, I'm sorry, but YES, Lottie's death was straight up doodoo bullshit. I have tried to keep an open-mind the whole of the season when she just died offscreen & they made her death this Big Mystery To Solve™, but that was the most unsatisfying way they could've gone about resolving it after all was said & done. I'm glad that it was like, actually. somebody who killed her (because, despite what Callie says, no, that was NOT an accident just like none of her mother's acts of violence aren't) instead of the writing's frequent tendency of, "They tripped on a necklace & fell into a meat grinder," that so many of the adult deaths give off, but the handling (or lack thereof) of Lottie is gonna leave a bitter taste in my mouth whenever I think about this season (& I say that as somebody who did not. hate the season as a whole). I was always on Simone's side on this issue when she publicly expressed her grievances, but I am even more so after that "lol whatever" ass death. Even though anybody with eyes knew Callie was gonna kill SOMEone this season & many of us suspected she was the culprit behind Lottie, this is just such an, "Okay...?" moment that it's difficult to understand why they even spent all this time circling around the issue beyond just killing her off to give Callie development. Like, Callie, keep telling yourself whatever, girl, but, "You're just like her...but more," is the exact. reason why your mom doesn't love you. I don't think Lottie was 100% on the money with classifying it as "jealousy" (she is partially correct, there's just more) because Shauna already does not love herself. so why would she love a daughter that was exactly like her? Literally all that can really be said about Lottie's death cause Jeff is repeating the same patterns with Shauna by telling Callie everything's fine+going into hiding & it's not gonna end well.

-With that being said, I do think this episode has concretely confirmed people's suspicions that we'll be seeing something like ~another reality~ with the dead characters when the series ends. I'm not sure if/how the writers will be able to convince much of the adult cast to return if they already aren't fond of the trajectories that their characters have gone on, but stuff like Lottie in the morgue with her younger self going to "meet her," her conversation with Callie, & telling Mari, "You see where we are? We've been here already, Mari. You could let it be different," right before she dies does feel a little too intentional to ignore. As much as I am decidedly not. a fan of how Lottie actually died, the way she seems to drift seamlessly through timelines in her visions as a ~physical presence~ in these realities indicates she knew that A) Callie is meant to be the actual. Antler Queen™ while her mother was just the "pretender to the throne," as it were, all along, B) She was supposed to die on those stairs & egged Callie on with the express purpose of getting her to kill her, & C) She had likely already had a vision of Mari's death (& no doubt others) & was trying to encourage her to change it (which, obviously, was not gonna work with how much Mari had turned against Lottie recently). So, even if I technically should. take more issue with this "resolution" we have been given with Lottie's fate, this episode did end up giving me so many juicy insights into both her character & the supernatural element that there's nuance to my thoughts.

-Even though I knew it was coming & expressed those thoughts during the premiere because it was too obvious to not. be the case, Mari being "pit girl" has done such irreparable, untold damage to me as somebody who loved her & her hater isms dearly. As much as I contend what I said earlier in the season that there was NOBODY. else actually deserving of the HONOR to actually be "pit girl" than her, I am gonna desperately miss seeing Alexa Barajas on our screens moving forward & how lovable she made Mari despite her stubbornly hating so many things. I think this season did a wonderful job of expanding her depth, getting us to see more involvement from her with the group, & once again, honoring her in the moment of her death with characters expressing sadness or regret or their attempts to intervene (Gen's "Mari's my friend. I'm just trying to give her a fighting chance," hit me the hardest by far</3). She went out being the iconic bad bitch we knew her to be getting some of the most apt lines of her tenure on the show by telling Shauna, "You deserve everything that's coming to you!" in the same episode Shauna's entire being is in free fall & giving Lottie her final, "My god, fuck AWF!" Fly high, Hater Supreme Mari Ibarra™. We lost a real one today!

-I'm kinda disappointed that Tai & Van rigging the card draws immediately. backfired like this cause it feels like such a wasted opportunity to explore & exploit the idea that Van ended up being ~punished by the wilderness~ for stacking the deck & giving the both of them more time. This could very well still be something S4 expands upon before they're rescued, but I don't think it'll have the same zest as everybody theorizing that they'd rig the draws for seasons now that it's blown up so spectacularly like this. While it DOES make for good writing that Shauna was the one to notice & try to circumvent it since she is. driven by paranoia & would naturally suspect something was up, not to mention how the episode mirrored the burgeoning conflict between her & Tai in the past & present, this really kneecapped a potentially engaging conflict before it even got started. The hard line in the sand drawn between Tai & Shauna is the most exciting thing to come out of this specific plotline for me cause it directly addresses many people's concerns asking, "What happened to Tai & Shauna's close relationship?" by showcasing that that relationship had been dead for a LONG time & was only reinforced by everybody deciding to "keep the past in the past [to] protect one another." But now that Van is dead & Tawny gave one of THEE. performances of the episode with burying Van & eating her heart, all bets are off & I am so fucking excited to see what she gets to do next season after all this! Even though I initially thought everyone was gonna be gunning for Melissa, it makes so much more sense that everyone is like, "Actually, no, Shauna is & always HAS. been the problem, & she's ruined everything again. Fuck her."

-God, I will never stop mourning the loss of Natalie as THEE. character death that impacted me the most. Like I said last week, after the way things have gone with her in the past timeline, there is no way anybody will ever be able to convince me that the writers intended for her to go like she did cause it feels so obvious that she was being positioned as the opposition against Shauna in the present from how much they've butted heads in the wilderness & this finale just made that even clearer. Even if she technically was not as present as most of the other characters, her crash-out over the transponder, having to keep up appearances on the surface, & convincing the saner members of the group to help her pull off the farcical hunt for Shauna's ego/the switcheroo for her to slip away underlines what we've always known: she always has. been & always will. be THE. leader. Regardless of what Shauna has done to wrestle control from her & weaponize anger to her advantage, this is one of Natalie's most triumphant moments as a character, reflected in how Tai & Misty are paying tribute to her in their present conspiring against Shauna, & it is g l o r i o u s to watch. My girl has gone through it the whole fuckin season & I know there will be worse things to come for her when S4 picks back up unless she manages to evade Shauna's Wrath™ by being a better hunter, but she fr is about to get everyone rescued by being the strategist of the group & I couldn't be more satisfied with how her arc has concluded this season.

[annaphoenix1994]

No Stone Unturned

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

To say I was nervous was an understatement - I was nearly in a panic attack every time I got a chance to look at the time. I wasn't a very social guy and perhaps never would be, but if I wanted to advance further into Kiera's life, I had to grow out of my social anxiety at some point. I had met her parents yesterday, and I was quite relieved to see how laid back they were. Her father welcomed me with a firm handshake and an offering of whiskey while her mother welcomed me with open arms and told me to get comfortable in her house. Her father, who goes by Bud, was a retired E-9 Master Gunnery Sergeant in the Marine Corps, and he kindly shared stories with me of his time overseas as well as asking me how different my military career was. I felt no judgement from him or his wife, and I was relieved by it, especially when they didn't ask questions about what intentions I had with their daughter. 

As the days went by, I assumed that Kiera picked up on my daily habits: coffee, sitting on her back patio to myself, and insisting conversation for whenever I felt like it. She gave me my space, and I appreciated it, however I hated it because all I wanted was to be around her at all hours of the day. The Wyoming weather failed to make up its mind towards the end of the year. One day it would be warm and sunny but turn to bitter cold and sleet within twenty-four hours. Today was one of those days. It was now early evening, and what was once a decent warm day began to turn to hard wind and falling temperatures. Deciding that I had been isolating myself on the back patio for long enough, I entered the house to the smell of something sweet, and I couldn't help but follow it, giving me an excuse to instigate conversation with the topic of food. 

I stood back and watched when I realized that Kiera was humming along to a song she was playing on her phone, keeping her hands occupied by taking out a pan from the oven. She had no idea that I was there, assuming that I was probably still on the back patio embracing my unfortunate loneliness. "Bottles and Bibles litter the floor; All night revival passed out around four," I heard her hum, reaching to her right for a bag of jumbo marshmallows, opening them and putting a few on top of whatever she had pulled out of the oven. 

Whatever it was, I knew it was going to be delicious. Our conversations haven't been long in the last few days except for over dinner, but one thing I figured out about her is that she could cook. Obliviously to her, that was a way to my heart, and she was getting closer and closer with every meal she made for me. I watched as she put the pan back into the oven, wiping her palms on the nearby kitchen towel before taking the last sip of the whiskey that was in the glass on the counter, turning around before she noticed me. "Christ, Simon!" 

"Sorry, love," I smirked. "Didn't intend to scare you. Figured you knew when someone was within a few feet of you."

"I don't have eyes in the back of my fuckin' head!" She scoffed. 

"That much is clear." 

She rolled her eyes playfully, turning her head before she could give me the satisfaction of making her smile. "Since you're in the kitchen, you can come and help me." 

"Yes, Officer."  

"Thanks, Chief." She retorted, knowing that my power of authority would be nothing more than complicated by addressing me by a different title. 

"Lieutenant." I arched my brow, stepping closer to her as if I was trying to be intimidating, but all I was doing was using this tactic as an excuse to get close to her, the smell of her perfume luring me in like a moth to the flame. 

She thought she was being sneaky when she backed up against the counter, her hand snaking behind her back to grasp a handful of flour before playfully smearing it on my chest, the residue clinging to my black shirt, yet I couldn't help but assume - or hope - that she was doing it to have an excuse to touch my torso, feeling my hard muscles that hid beneath my shirt. "Oh, you've had it now." I smirked. 

"Ooh, I'm so intimidated by you, Chief-"

She shrieked, laughing uncontrollably as I grasped her wrist with light pressure, but enough to keep her from pulling away from me as I pulled her away from the counter to grab the container of flour that was behind her. 

I got even when it came to little pranks. 

"Simon! I need to keep an eye on the casserole!" 

"Fuck the casserole!" 

"I'll embarrass you!" She giggled, threatening to attempt to restrain me.

"I'd like to see you try, love. I need to get a workout in." 

She scoffed, using her foot to try to hit me behind my foot in a pathetic attempt to move my weight. She had no momentum, and I was by far too big and too heavy compared to her, but I liked seeing her try. 

A part of me figured that she really could hurt me, but she was holding back. I knew what she was capable of and have seen it myself, including when she made Soap shut his mouth. 

I smirked when I held the container of flour over her head, teasing her with anticipation just to hear her beg me to stop, but she started it, and I got even. 

"Simon! No! No, no!" She squealed as I poured the flour on top of her head. "I swear to God, Simon!" 

"Keep swearing all you like, sweetheart, but God isn't going to save you right now." 

She slumped onto her back on the floor, catching her breath after an intense laughing fit as I stood over her, shaking my head as she looked like pre-kneaded dough. "Let me go get the rolling pin." 

"While you're at it, get me my vape." 

"I don't think so." 

"Fine, I'll get it myself." She pouted, attempting to stand on her feet before her sock caused her to slide on the flour against the wood floor, taking me down with her as I tried to catch her to keep the thud from sounding so harsh. 

I fell on my side close to her, feeling the vibrations from her laugh through the floor as I couldn't help but laugh, too. It was a rare occurrence that I fell, but when I did, it was either from the top of a wall or stepping into a hidden hole in the ground. "Oh my God, are you okay?" She asked, seeing me propped up on my elbow as I looked up to the ceiling, the flour that was disturbed after it had settled now caked onto my shirt and pants. I was sure my black socks were now white, but I didn't care. 

"I'm fine." I chuckled. She's so bloody enticing. If you don't stop looking at me with that pretty gleam in your eye, I won't be able to stop myself.

"Here, I owe it to ya - I'll help you up this time." She giggled. 

"Not yet."

"Why? You hurting? Getting old?" 

"No." 

"Then what is it?" 

She knew exactly what it was. She just wanted to hear me say it. 

I moved to adjust my weight on my elbow to where I was almost leaning over her, my free hand slowly and hesitantly coming up to wipe the flour from her cheek before swiping a small area away from her lips. Bloody fucking hell. 

Her eyes flicked away from my sharp gaze briefly, trying to find the confidence in herself to accept it, not wanting to believe it was actually happening, but I couldn't help but think that she didn't want it as bad as I did.

She felt my hot breath coming closer and closer to her lips. When she leaned towards me, I knew that I wasn't crossing a line. We closed the gap between us, her hand coming up to grab my wrist as my hand was cupping the back of her head. It all felt so perfect - like it was meant to happen this way, and I suddenly felt that my nervousness was far in the back of my mind when I felt her lips on mine. I groaned lowly when I felt her arm lay across the back of my neck, gently pulling me down onto her. 

The kiss didn't last as long as I wanted, but it was better than I could've imagined, though I wanted to drown myself within her, wanting to disappear within the confines of her spirit. "Simon," She whispered against my cheek. Her tone sounded serious, like she regretted it, but when I opened my eyes to look into hers, I could feel a sarcastic comment playing on her lips. "I need to check on the casserole." 

I knew she said it to break the awkward tension she must've been feeling, but regardless, I still loved it. I loved every sarcastic comment that left her mouth, those gorgeous hazel eyes, her quick wit, her loving attitude, fucking everything. I was immediately love-struck the moment I first laid eyes on her, which has never happened to me before in my entire life. She had my heart in her hands already, and I'd gladly let her keep it.

Because I know she'd keep it safe. 

I exhaled a chuckle, looking at her beating pulse against her neck. She wanted more. "If you mention that casserole one more time, I'll let it burn and eat the rest of those precious marshmallows that you've been eating that were supposed to go on it." I teased, daring to dip my head down and place a gentle kiss to her neck, feeling her pulse against my lips. I knew it was too early to let it go further than just a kiss, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted all of her - wanted her all to myself. 

I didn't just want eventual sex, I wanted her for the rest of my life. 

"I don't know what you're talking about..." She giggled, lifting her chin to give me better access to her neck, but I traced my lips all the way against her jaw before I looked into her eyes, pleased to see her blush before looking away from me, but I gently grasped her chin to turn her face back to where I could look into her eyes. 

"I'm over here, sweetheart." 

"I know, but... I don't know how to say this." 

Fuck, she didn't like it. She didn't feel anything. Look at you, Simon, fucking fool! 

"Spit it out, then." I replied, mentally preparing myself for the rejection. Well, at least I got to kiss her...

"Can I have another?" 

"Another what?" 

"A marshmallow," She scoffed, winning a smug grin on my face at her sarcasm, which was becoming one of my many favorite features about her. "Another kiss, Simon." 

"Say fuckin' less." I replied, crashing my lips back onto hers. She giggled into my mouth as her left leg hooked over mine and curled around the back of my thigh. God, don't do that. I'll fuck you right here on this floor, I thought as my hand slipped down to grasp her side just below her ribcage. As much as I wanted her to take me, I wasn't going to do anything until she wanted to, which was perfect for me, because I was nervous as hell, and I just hoped that she couldn't sense it. 

My kisses were needy and somewhat obsessive, and she absorbed every bit of it, the slight digging of her nails in the back of my neck enticed me enough to release a deep groan, almost a growl, at her action. Neither of us could deny that we were aroused, ready to fuck each other blind, but we both knew it was too soon. 

Her leg tightened around my thigh, and I could feel the heat between her legs. I wanted to touch her so bad, but I stopped myself. I didn't want our first time together being on her kitchen floor covered in flour - I wanted it to be romantic and slow. My hand was cradling the back of her head to prevent her head from resting on the floor when we broke the kiss, our mouths dry and plastered with puffy lips. I'm not sure what love feels like, but if it's how I feel in this moment - I think I'm in love.

Our moment of silence was cut short when she jolted under me, her phone ringing loudly on the countertop. I carefully stood to my feet, holding out my hand to help her to her feet, "I'm going to have to shower before we go to the lodge." 

"Yeah, I agree, covered in flour isn't a good look for you at the dinner table in front of your family." 

"Yeah? And having an egg thrown at you and sticking to your shirt isn't such a good look either." She scoffed with her playful threat. 

"Neither is not showing up," I raised a brow. "I get even with pranks, love." 

"We'll see about that." She smirked, making her way to the counter to pick up her phone. 

My face fell in confusion when I watched her warm smile fade into a heavy frown, "Who is it?" 

"Laswell." 

[thevampiremarie]

Heartless, Chapter 9

🔞 Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader 🔞

Fake marriage/marriage of convenience

-

Ghost makes it up to you with a dance. SMUT. Tags under the read more.

-

Sorry about the wait. Stuff has happened. Surgery. Really bad autoimmune flares. My back has been bad. I'm depressed. I haven't been doing well at all. Thanks for being patient. Smut tags: cowboy hat stays on, exhibitionism, public sex, heavy degradation/humiliation, minor bratting, squirting

Ghost POV

This place is a shithole. Ghost has spent time in a few shitholes, and your chosen pub ranks marginally better than that dingy karaoke bar in Sasebo where Roach caught food poisoning from bad sashimi.

And there you are.

In the middle of the fuckin’… wood-paneled floor, your shorts riding low and your shirt riding up.

Some American bloke sings about “country girl twerk,” whatever the hell that means, as you dance. Your cheeks are red, and you have one of the widest smiles he’s ever seen. Fuck phantom pain - phantom happiness coils in his stomach, seeing you so full of joy.

You stomp, scuff your boots on the floor, and keep one hand on your dinky hat so it doesn’t fall off. The hat looks squished and stained like it already has.

And your round, delicious, fat arse… you’re grinding and shaking and doing shit you should never do outside of your bedroom. His mouth goes dry as he watches the recoil. Goddammit. He’s only a man, with a man’s appetites. Your plush, full tits bounce in time-

Ghost tucks himself in a corner without a second thought, the drunk crowd flowing past him like he isn’t even there. It takes a second before he’s as composed and unflappable as always. You’re far too skilled at rattling him for your own good.

He’s so enamored by the show that he almost doesn’t notice the fuckers swarming you like wasps. Tipsy, ugly, bloated wasps, the worst specimens of the Londoner species.

Your little bitch fit isn’t worth the court-martial for murder. Although, he might consider it if that one man’s hand gets any closer to your arse.

Ghost sends them scurrying with nothing more than a look. Pathetic.

“What’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?” He murmurs, his hand reaching for your waist like you’re a magnet dragging him into your forcefield.

The glitter looks…

Ghost is bad at this. The ‘describing’ thing.

The little flecks of light dance across your face and surround your eyes like fireflies late at night.

Eyes that are currently glaring at him like you’re trying to set him on fire. “I’m not talking to you right now.”

He’s never seen anything more lovely in his life.

“Where’s the Colonel?” Ghost knows exactly where Alejandro is. When he walked in, he saw the other soldier carefully monitoring your situation from a table two meters away.

Awareness prickles down his spine, that extra sense that comes with fighting and (almost dying) with someone. That’s the sound of the Colonel’s stride.

“Behind you,” You grumble sullenly.

Ghost doesn’t flinch when Alejandro clears his throat. “Lieutenant.” Simon turns to meet Alejandro’s tanned, outstretched fist with his own gloved knuckles.

The colonel scrutinizes the visible parts of Simon’s face. It’s like a test.

At last, the colonel smiles and nods, and Alejandro’s tense shoulders fall into a more relaxed position.

That’s when Simon knows he passed. “I got it from here,” He murmurs.

The fuckin’… demented squirrel feeling with claws in his lungs starts to dissipate. You’re safe. You were safe this whole time. And the Colonel was gonna protect you from everything, even Ghost himself.

He should get the fucker a potted plant or some shit to thank him.

Alejandro tips his ridiculous straw hat. “Copy that. Good luck.” The other man melts back into the crowd, no doubt for one last drink before clearing the premises. Alejandro has no interest in witnessing what Ghost has planned.

Simon understands. He almost pities you.

There’s something shiny and slick on your lips. It distracts him when you pout. He wants to take your bottom lip between his teeth and leave marks. He wants to see if that gloss is flavored vanilla or peach. You wear peach-flavored lip balm sometimes - it drives Ghost mad.

“You weren’t answerin’ your phone. Why do you have it if you ain’t gonna use it?” He says roughly. Fuck. Your expression falls, and your cheeks flush red from anger and the alcohol he can smell on your breath. He’s messed up already.

You sway on your cute little boots, and he wants to reach out to steady you, but Ghost is afraid you’ll push him away. “Go fuck yourself,” You hiccup.

“You made me come all the way out here to find you.”

You scared me shitless. I missed you.

That hat finally slips from its perch as you tip your chin down in a sulk. “You didn’t have to. I was fine.” Simon catches it in his gloved hand on instinct. Obviously, you care about the damned thing.

Far more gently than he thought he could, he sets it back atop your head and then smooths a few stray strands of hair behind your ear.

-

Reader POV

It is so not fucking fair that Ghost gets to look so intimidating and handsome when you’re supposed to be mad at him.

And it’s also not fair that the simple act of giving you back your cowboy hat makes your teeth ache and sets drunk butterflies flapping in your stomach.

Everything is so hot. You’re covered in a fine layer of sweat from the dancing, and your husband watches a bead of it drip down your throat past your collarbone.

“Yeah? Three blokes grinding on you is ‘fine?’” When Ghost’s eyes glitter menacingly in the low light under his mask, your heart rate picks up, and your clothes feel too tight.

You gather up the hair stuck to the back of your neck without thinking, inadvertently flashing an even-more generous handful of cleavage.

“They were showing me a better time than you ever could,” You snap, one hand over your boobs to keep them from spilling out of your uncomfortable underwire bra entirely.

That was the wrong thing to say.

Ghost growls, shaking his head like an aggressive dog after a wounded bird. “Got half a mind to take their hands off for touchin’ you.” No, that was the right thing to say.

You like knowing you can make him jealous. “As delightful as that sounds, that isn’t an apology.” You can’t let him off that easily, though. Nope. Never.

“What do I have to apologize for?” He asks, looking away at some random mysterious dot on the floor.

The list is long. But first on the list, above all the other shit, is that he needs to apologize for making you want him to apologize. And for the large hand he’s wrapping around your wrist like a comforting weight anchoring your floaty, tipsy self.

You’re not supposed to lean into Ghost’s touch and long for him to draw you into his arms.

Falling into his orbit is as natural as breathing. “Ghost. You are the most insufferable, rude, miserable pig I have ever had the misfortune of knowing-“ You rant, your voice rising louder and louder over the music.

You never thought he’d be so horrible as to come here and feed you some bullshit, just to watch you pant and debase yourself for an apology that Ghost seems to have no intention of giving.

When you try to hit his chest, Ghost grabs both of your hands.

“‘M sorry,” Simon whispers so quietly that you almost doubt what you hear. The pink spotlights whirling across his mask make his eyes look painfully soft.

“…What?”

Ghost clears his throat. “For not dancing with you. For… for being so… rude. I- I shouldn’t have treated you that way. You deserve better.” His hands slide down your arms until they’re resting on your hips, tight enough to leave you with zero doubt about his intentions but not so tight that you can’t push him away.

And then it’s like he doesn’t need to take the mask off at all for you to see his expression. That’s how well you know the shadows of his face. You could map them in your sleep.

If your hands were free, you’d bring one up to his cheek to feel his remorse under your fingers. “Oh,” You murmur. You don’t feel drunk anymore. You’re stone-cold sober as you gaze into his eyes and find something sweeter than those lemon drop shots lurking in the darkness.

Ghost furtively glances around to ensure everyone else is too wasted to look twice before lifting your hand to his masked mouth.

The painted cloth is soft as it brushes your knuckles. “Would you… uh… may I- may I have this dance?” He asks, stumbling over the words a few times.

Fondness melts your anger faster than a snowflake would in midsummer, and it’s a better rush than any whiskey they sell in this place. It goes straight to your head and makes you grin from ear to ear. You tuck your hands into the collar of his jacket and pull him down because the couple of inches between your bodies feel like too far of a distance.

He’s here. He’s really here for you. “You’re not dressed appropriately,” You tell him, half-teasing, half-serious.

Ghost immediately shakes his head. “Limited time offer.” But he doesn’t pull away or grow stiff. His hands brush your waist, and then his gloved fingers slip between the waistband of your shorts and your sticky, heated skin.

“That’s not very nice,” You say with a coy smile. This close, you’re sure he can smell the peach-flavored lip gloss painting your mouth.

Ghost grumbles performatively for a second. “You are welcome to… do whatever the hell you want.” 

It comes to you in a flash of tipsy inspiration. “Here.” You let go of him long enough to pluck the hat from your head and settle it neatly atop his balaclava. “Looks better on you than it did on me, baby,” You murmur appreciatively.

Oh yeah. Fuck yeah.

Your mouth goes dry as you take in the view.

Ghost looks like this incredible tower of muscle and brawn and cowboy swagger that you want, no, need to climb all over. This man is straight out of a calendar of hot male models. You want him to do disgusting, explicit, horrible things to you in the alley outside. His skull balaclava is as menacing as always, and you feel drunk on its glory. The cheesiness of the hat ties everything together.

By God, does Ghost pull it off.

His gloved fingertips grind into your skin, deep enough to leave rapidly-fading red marks. You want more than that. You want bruises.

“Yeah?” Ghost asks, a little touch of amusement softening his gruff voice.

You want it so bad that your eyes flutter just thinking about it.

Your husband catches it and pulls you towards him until there isn’t any space left between you.

You melt into his chest, wrap your arms around his neck, and look at him through your eyelashes. “Mmhm. So cool. I can’t stay mad at you, not when you’re so,” You trail off, suddenly distracted by the slick dampness of your underwear and your nipples pebbling under your bra. “Pretty! Like a regular Clint Eastwood. You here to arrest me, cowboy?” You tease as you rock your hips toward his.

Then he’s palming your ass with a deep, muffled groan, squishing the flesh like a man obsessed, bouncing your cheeks in his hands.

His tight, possessive grip lights a fire in the bottom of your stomach. “You’re drunk, love,” He tells you as you coil around him and push your tits into his muscular chest.

Ghost is trying very, very hard not to look down your almost-nonexistent shirt. “No, I’m- I’m pleasantly tipsy.” Your mouth moves without you even realizing it. “You do look fine as fuck. God. You know I love those jeans.” Maybe you’re still a little drunk, but you’re not mad about it.

Ghost is totally blushing under the mask. 100%. His eyes dart to the side, and he clears his throat. He’s so cute when he’s flustered.

“We’re in public,” Ghost murmurs. That’s the least effective, least sincere protest you’ve heard in your whole life. At last, your husband miserably loses whatever internal prudish battle he was fighting and takes in your cleavage like he’s taking in a masterpiece.

“I’m not even joking when I say I would, like, crawl, like on my hands and knees to suck your dick right now. With the hat on. Please.”

You’re not like this. You’re never like this. But Ghost wants you. He came out here for you. And you need to show him exactly how much you appreciate it.

He coughs. “Woman.” He sounds so scandalized as if he hasn’t literally cut your clothes off your body and fucked you stupid before.

Ghost tilts his head so you can lift the edge of his mask and kiss his throat. “Pretty please. If you like me at all, you’ll let me? I’ll give you the best head of your life. I can’t believe I’m fucking begging a guy to let me blow him. God, look what marriage has done to me,” You whisper.

One of his hands reluctantly leaves your ass so it can tangle in your messy, sweat-soaked hair.

He tugs your head back. “Look at me,” Ghost hisses, his eyes a beautifully wound up pitch black. “Hey. Behave. Be a good girl.” Your scalp aches but fuck, does that feel amazing. Especially when he slides his knee between your thighs, mixing the pain with pleasure as he forces you to grind.

“Or what?” You gasp.

His other hand grips your chin. “Or I’m not going to let you suck my cock,” He tells you slowly, deliberately.

So blowing him is still on the table tonight.

Ghost tightens his grip bit by bit until your lips part.

“…Fine.”

He releases your hair to shove his mask down long enough to kiss you. There’s his teeth nipping your lips, his tongue insistent against yours, a shared, breathy, drawn-out moan echoing from your throat and his. “So bratty tonight,” Ghost whispers into your mouth. With one last kiss, he draws back.

The brim of his borrowed hat knocks into your face as he does, and you giggle as he straightens it.

For all you know, the rest of the world has gone to hell. Everything is Ghost and his warmth, filling up the cavern in your chest left by his earlier rejection.

The smile drops from your face. “You only care when I act up.” Is this going to be a habit? Do you have to throw tantrums, scream, and cry so he looks at you twice?

No. No. Your marriage won’t be like that. You’ve got years of experience watching your mother pant after your father’s approval, and she didn’t even love him. The thought of living it makes you sick.

Especially because-

Because one day you might love Ghost, and it would kill you to know he didn’t feel the same, yet could still command you like a dog. And out of that hypothetical, alleged, not currently existent love, you’d obey.

“That’s not true.”

You hope the tears welling in your eyes leave your fake lashes intact. “Is to. I just- I just want you to look at me like this all the time. I want you to care all the time. Is that too much to ask? And dance with me because it’s important and, fucking, I want you to take me out for coffee like normal people-“

“What kind of coffee?” Ghost stops your anxious, tear-filled ramble in its tracks.

Suddenly, pink lights silhouette him. They shine around his hat in a delicate, flushed halo, a shade you often see in fresh sunrises and beautiful sunsets.

There’s a sticky sweet center under his prickly exterior, like a mean cat once it gets used to you. And you might not be in love with him yet, but you love how sweet he can be.

When you were younger, you would empty every Halloween candy bowl into your bag while trick-or-treating. You learned how easily people could take things from you unless you were greedy and grasping, unless you dug your nails in so deep that it left marks.

You should do that to Ghost. But in a healthy way. “I like fancy lattes with long names and ridiculous price tags,” You say. “And foam hearts on the top.” You refuse to share his sweetness with anyone else. You’ll protect it - one day, Ghost will learn you’re trustworthy. Just like with Soap, you’ll protect Simon.

“Tomorrow, if you’re not too hungover… we’ll find somewhere with fancy coffee.” He starts rubbing at your cheek as he speaks. It takes you a second to realize that Ghost is picking at the specks of mascara left by the few tears that did fall. He navigates deftly around the glitter and touches you like you’re holy.

“And you’re gonna let me put your dick down your throat.”

His laugh is deep and throaty, a little rough from disuse but plenty warm.

The song playing switches to something slow and easy. A man croons in a low, smooth voice about a last night and the girl he’ll spend the rest of his life waiting for.

“First… we gotta dance.” Ghost takes you by the hand and pulls you toward the center of the dance floor.

-

Ghost POV

It takes every bit of Simon’s concentration to focus on you in his arms and the even pace of his breaths.

Inhale, exhale.

Your pretty eyes glow happily as you look up at him, flickering like opals in the low light.

The drunk on the corner isn’t reaching for a knife. He’s just finishing his drink.

This close, he can smell the coconut scent of your shampoo mixed with salty sweat and a deep, mouth-watering musk. Your hair is a mess of tangles, and the blush staining your cheeks is hibiscus pink.

You’re the most beautiful thing Ghost has seen in his whole life.

That red flicker in the corner of his eye isn’t a sniper dot. The raised voices are friends arguing over who’s paying the tab, not the specter of his father following Ghost even here.

His dad hated music. Fuckin’ hated it. He broke every radio they owned, smashed them into bits in various fits of rage. Once for playing music too loud, once for not being loud enough. And forget dancing. Forget flowers for Mum or family drives on Sunday, or any of the things fathers are meant to do.

Ghost should get you flowers. You’d like them. It would be the sort of gesture that would make you smile as you’re smiling now, like he’s your hero, like you think you’re the luckiest girl in the whole world.

He tugs you closer to knead the soft flesh of your hips and feel your body moving in perfect sync with his. Ghost isn’t half good at dancing, but you have enough grace for the both of them.

Back and forth. Back and forth. He counts the steps in his head.

“Look at me,” You whisper as you tighten your arms draped delicately around his neck.

He watches you sway, and the glitter on your cheeks sparkle with the movement. The flutter of your long, curled eyelashes makes him dizzy. He wants to take this mask off and kiss you, right here, right now, like a regular guy with a gorgeous woman on his arm.

Like in the movies - the ones with happy endings.

The air grows muggy with heat from the people moving and grinding on the floor. They talk, they grin, they take selfies. Nobody shies away from him in fear. He’s part of the crowd.

You rest your head on his shoulder. “It’s okay, baby. You’re doing great.” The kiss you press to his jacket goes straight through the fabric and into his bones, warming him like good bourbon.

Ghost feels bold enough to try twirling you. He worries he might be too uncoordinated or awkward, but you take the hint and effortlessly glide away and then back toward him. Your hair fans out behind you as you turn.

Beautiful.

“If you say so, love,” He murmurs.

-

Reader POV

This is a wonderful, amazing, and tender moment and everything…

But when Ghost adjusts his borrowed hat atop his mask, you’re a goner. He’s too busy being perfect and remarkably romantic to notice how you feel like you’re in fucking heat.

“C’mon, babe. I want another drink,” You drawl as you tug him off the dance floor.

You make a beeline for the friendly bartender, dragging your husband through the crowd like you’re parting the Red Sea. His hand tenses in yours, and you stop just long enough so Ghost can move in front of you, away from the people bumping into him.

The bartender winks once she spots you. “Hey sweetie, back already?” She asks as she waves away the bachelorette party trying to order from her.

Next to you, you feel Ghost stiffen and place his hand on the small of your back.

You lean forward so she can see down your shirt and keep one eye on Ghost’s mask the whole time. “Oh, you know me. I can’t stay away from your gorgeous eyeliner and excellent drinks,” You say with a coy smile just bordering on flirtatious.

His hand slowly makes its way up your spine, stopping to snap the elastic band of your bra against your skin to get you to quit it.

“It’s my pleasure. What can I get you, sugar?”

Ugh, that’s so immature of him. “What do you recommend?” You ask before sticking your tongue out at Ghost and crushing his toes under your boot heel.

He responds by resting his hand on the base of your neck where even the bartender can’t miss it.

As the bartender thinks, she taps a manicured nail against her lip gloss. “Pretty girls should have pretty drinks. Isn’t that right, Mr…”

Ghost squeezes your neck slightly - a gentle reminder of who you belong to. “Her husband,” He says curtly.

The bartender makes a show out of raising her eyebrow and looking at your ring finger. “Oh, I didn’t know you were married. What a shame. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. ‘Her Husband.’” She’s not even looking at him when she speaks. She’s only got eyes for you.

Being admired by anybody feels good. It feels even better to know that Ghost stews in silence as you preen. You wonder how far you can take the bit before his self-control snaps and he drags you out of here.

A shiver of pleasure goes through you at the thought.

Ghost exhales through his nose. “Put her tab on that,” He orders as he tosses a credit card on the bar.

She pulls out a chilled shot glass and a variety of colorful liquor bottles. You recognize Kahlúa and Bailey’s, and there’s some sort of vodka. Amaretto might be the fourth mysterious liquor.

“The other fellow with the other hat has her tab covered. But I can definitely put this drink on your card,” She says as she layers the liquors one after the other with a bar spoon to keep them from mixing.

Then she swipes Ghost’s card at her register thingy before handing it back, along with a crisply-layered shot. “There you go. A Screaming Orgasm for the lady. Receipt?” Her smile is as alluring as it is gloating.

He shoves his card back into his wallet like he’s loading a gun, each movement tense with fury.

You feel him forcefully wrap his arm around your waist and pull you into him. “G-Ghost, what’s wrong?” You ask, pretending like you don’t damn well know what’s wrong.

Ghost boxes you in with his legs on either side of yours and both arms around your waist. “Drink that. Now,” He mutters as he rests his chin on your head.

The bartender has made herself scarce by now. That was a good choice on her part.

His grip tightens until the rough material of his gloves bites into your sides. You take your time with the shot, stopping to tap the bottom of the glass on the bar before throwing it back.

The literal second after you put the glass down, Ghost hoists you away from the bar and the bartender trying to steal you away. “We’re going. Come on.” He puts you down only when he can intercept any attempts to return to the bar for more torment.

His rough treatment melts away momentarily when someone almost bumps into you. Ghost’s reflexes kick in and hold you back half a second before the drunk man stumbles, and then he sweeps you past the dude before you realize what’s happening.

You stumble out into the brisk night air. The London light pollution has chased away the stars, leaving a flat, dull black sky behind.

“Where are you-“ Ghost interrupts you by shoving you back towards the brick covering the outside wall of the pub. Your head spins, the inside of your mouth tastes like sugar and alcohol, and your knees grow weak from Ghost’s casual display of strength.

And then he practically tears the fabric of his mask away from his mouth so he can fucking ravage you.

He kisses you repeatedly, one hand fisting in your hair and the other clamped around your hip, helping him grind his dick against your clothed cunt.

Ghost groans with pleasure when he tastes the sweetness from the shot, and you sink your teeth into his lip to extend that beautiful, desperate sound.

Here, pinned between the wall and his broad, muscled torso, you’re absolutely, utterly helpless. You squirm and plead in small, whining noises, your combined saliva drips out of your mouth, and your tongue loses the battle for dominance against Ghost’s tongue.

Just when your eyes start to roll back and your muscles slacken, he moves away. “You want it that badly, eh? You little slut?” He kisses messily across your cheek, then down your throat.

You tug at his shoulders, trying to force him closer, and you can feel your arousal leaking through your shorts. “Yeah, I’ll give you a fuckin’ screaming orgasm,” Ghost swears into your sweat-soaked skin before biting down hard.

You tremble and shake, he bites harder, the pain goes straight to your hard, aroused nipples and the fire burning low in your belly.

“Yeah?” You moan with your head thrown back and eyes shut.

As people leave the bar, Ghost shoves his thigh between your legs, so you have something to rock your aching clit against, then clamps his hand over your mouth when you cry out in pleasure.

“I can’t fuckin’ believe you’re into this. There’s something wrong with you,” He hisses cruelly in your ear.

You moan louder with your tongue out as your hands untie your top at record speed. Your clothes are too tight, unbearably clinging to your skin, and you need them off right now. You work on the fly of your shorts next, hastily unbuttoning them so you’re almost completely exposed.

Ghost shakes his head in disapproval and slides the hand covering your mouth down until it encircles your neck. He tightens his grip, carefully cutting off your blood flow and forcing you into that peaceful, floaty place where you’d beg him to do whatever he wanted.

You let out a low, choked gasp, drool already beading at the corner of your kiss-swollen lips. “Aw, you going dumb already? I just gotta put my hand around your pretty throat, and you’re moaning like a whore?” Not content with being the only one undressed, you scrabble for his belt and unbuckle it with single-minded determination.

“Think the whole block can hear you yet?” Then Ghost kisses your temple sweetly in sharp contrast to his low, ice-cold tone.

He makes no moves to stop you from clawing at his jeans. If anything, he eagerly thrusts his hard-on into your palm as soon as the only barrier between you is his boxers.

You feel him, heavy and thick and warm through the cloth, and smile like a cat who’s got the cream. “You love it, Ghost. Admit it. You fucking love this. I can feel how fucking hard you are, yeah? Is that for me?” You retort, wrapping your hand around his dick and pumping it a few times for good measure.

In the dark of night, you can barely make out his clenched teeth and eyes shut tight as he fucks your hand. “It is, love. It’s all yours. Now are you gonna be a good girl and suck my cock?” Ghost purrs, grabbing your face by your jaw and forcing you to look straight at him.

“I thought you’d never ask.” You sink to your knees eagerly, ignoring the gravel biting into your bare legs.

But just when you move to pull his underwear down, Ghost stops you with his hands manacled around your wrists.

“Hey, now hold on,” He chides.

Your brain fucking short circuits. His dick is right there. In your face. So close. Saliva gathers on the back of your tongue. Why is he fucking gatekeeping you? Do you have to beg?

You see a mean light shine in his dark eyes when you look up. Oh yeah, he wants you to beg. His hand slides into your hair, then pulls your head back until your mouth hangs open.

Someone laughs in the background. Footsteps crunch over gravel.

London will watch you beg on your knees for your husband’s dick.

Yeah, you’re game.

You pout your lips. “What? Why? Please? Please? I know you want me to. I can be so good to you,” You beg, your eyes round and dewy with want.

Ghost tsks. “Yeah? But you’ve been so bad, love. You’re acting like a common slut, pawing at me in public. Right here, where everyone can see? Are you sure you deserve it?” His thumb slips between your lips, and you give it the treatment you’re trying to show him; sucking, licking, your eyes fluttering, loud, explicit, over-the-top moans.

“Please. I- I literally, I am desperate. I am begging. I want- let them know, let them see, just- I-“

Ghost takes his thumb back with a satisfied smirk. “Look at you, can’t even make a full sentence. What a stupid, dumb, adorable little princess. Go on.” Then he shoves his boxers down, revealing an angry, mean, painfully-stiff erection, the mushroom tip red and beaded with precum.

You need no further instruction.

You viciously spit into your palm and then draw his shaft into your mouth.

In your first attempt, you get a little less than half of Ghost’s thick cock down your throat. Then you pull off to take a deep breath, your eyes watering from the unexpected intrusion.

Before Ghost can do something annoying like ask if you’re okay, you take him in your mouth once more and bob up and down.

He grows harder with each stroke of your wet, sloppy mouth, you can fucking feel him twitch and strain against your cheeks. Ghost’s hand tightens painfully in your hair, and you hear him gasp and groan when you use your tongue on the sensitive underside of his bulbous tip.

Ghost gazes down at you as if you’re the answer to his prayers, like he believes that he’s the one who should be on his knees. “That’s it, there’s my bitch. Your mouth looks so good sucking my cock, love.”

Your senses fill with the musky, salty taste of him running down your throat with the excess spit and dribbling down your wrist as your hand works the part of his length you can’t swallow completely.

“Fuck. Your mouth- fuck…” Ghost curses, unable to control his hips rolling against your face, pushing himself deeper and deeper in.

You look at him through your lashes and hollow out your cheeks, sucking long and slow.

Under the eye black, his face is flushed red from arousal, and sweat gathers in the hairline you neatened up. “Ahhh, shit, c’mon, you can do it. Take all of it. Attagirl.” You’re trying, really. You’re doing your absolute best.

When the tip of his dick hits the back of your throat, your eyes roll back, and you cry out. Your gasp makes your throat muscles quiver and vibrate around him.

Your jaw aches, and all you taste, smell, and feel is Ghost cracking your mouth open, Ghost fucking your throat, Ghost tearing away your thoughts and your air and replacing it with him.

He growls, spitting out curses like he hates your guts, his grip on your hair trembles. “Is it too much for you, princess? Are you crying? Fucking dumb whore, crying like you weren’t begging me for it. Goddammit, you’re so fucking good at this.” The praise fucking melts you into a malleable pile of mush. You love it. You’re his princess, his whore, and now, everyone knows.

Everyone is watching. You need to be good for him, you want to be perfect.

Your throat muscles relax, allowing him to slip in another inch further.

You gag and retch around his thick, swollen cock. “Christ. Yes, fuck, keep going,” Ghost pants. He’s breathing fast through his nose as if he’s beating someone into the ground. “You are so- fucking- gorgeous when you choke. Do it again.” His command bounces around in your empty, cock-drunk mind and, after a couple of seconds, fully registers.

Just when you pull your fist away and try to touch your nose to the wiry hair above his dick, Ghost forces your mouth open just that tiny bit wider and slips- all the way in.

Your eyes widen with panic, and your hands try to push him back, but Ghost tugs harder on your hair until the sting reminds you who you belong to.

He’ll let you breathe when he wants you to, you just have to trust him. You’re just a warm, wet hole for him to ruin. “No, no, no. Don’t try to run- shit- run away,” Ghost warns as he fucks your throat with a messy, uncoordinated rhythm that picks up. His thick, salty precum gathers in a pool on the back of your tongue, and you gulp it down greedily.

Your tears fall in earnest. They blot out your vision until all you can see is the silhouette of his hat, dark against the dim street lamp.

You brace yourself on his thighs to stay upright.

“It’s yours. All yours. Take it. Take- me-“ His moans are almost as loud as the sound of his cock sliding between your lips, wet and slick, combined with your wordless begging for air, for more, for his cum.

Come in my mouth, you pray deliriously, practically insane with need. You can’t keep up with the pace Ghost sets and struggle weakly to move your head in time. You’re helpless in his capable, dominating hands.

His swollen cock twitches, and he shudders.

He’s going to come soon. Is Ghost also picturing his sticky, salty cum in your mouth and on your cheeks, and how you would look flashing him your messy tongue before swallowing it? He’s practically biting through his bottom lip with how badly he wants that. Your aching, leaky cunt clenches in time with your racing heartbeat.

Ghost shoves your mouth back on his dick one last time. “No,” He tells you as he pulls out.

Wh- what?

You’re stunned into silence. He was fucking your face, but then he stopped but… but why?

You sit there and look at him without a thought behind your hazy, languid eyes.

As bits and pieces come back to you, your brow furrows. “But I want it,” You whimper in the most pathetic, hoarse little voice.

Without realizing it, your slick hands drift back up towards his erection, which hasn’t softened one bit.

Ghost merely shakes his head, entirely unmoved by your pleas. “You ran off without saying a word. You don't deserve for me to come in your mouth. Get up.” His voice is ice-cold. Underneath it, you hear how worried Ghost was. How you frustrated him, how he missed you.

A rush of shame goes through you, dousing some of the burning under your skin. How could you do that to him?

When you don’t move, Ghost reaches down and hoists you up by your elbows with a huff. “Off the ground. Up,” He barks. He still hasn’t taken the gloves off. You can feel a couple of strands of your hair caught in the Velcro wrist buckles.

Ghost efficiently strips you out of your soaked shorts and ruined, filthy panties. You stare blankly at him, so aroused and on the edge that your brain and vocal cords can’t put a complete sentence together.

He pats one of your gravel-bruised knees, then the other. You lift your feet accordingly until you’re naked from the waist down, other than the cowboy boots.

Without the cloth to hold it back, the slick dripping from your bare folds makes a shining trail down the inside of your thigh.

When Ghost pushes you up against the wall and hooks his arms under your knees, holding your plush thighs open and ready for him, you comply in a daze, hardly able to put two words together.

Your back arches as his teeth catch in your throat, alternating between bright pain and his tongue lapping at your skin, soothing away the sting.

Then Ghost gets one of his arms under your ass, carrying your entire weight with ease. “Can’t do that to me again, doll. I almost lost you so you could fuck around with some random blokes at the pub? Nah. I think you need a reminder of who you belong to.” With his free hand, he shoves your bra aside to take one of your swollen nipples into his greedy mouth.

The man fucking feasts on you, growling into your sensitive tits, sucking red hickies everywhere, and insatiably tonguing your nipple. “Ahhhh-“ You moan with your head thrown back and your nails clawing at his hoodie, trying and failing to mark up his back.

Each suck and lick and kiss goes straight to your clit, aching in the cold night air; tension builds in the base of your spine, and you can’t think, can’t hear, or see.

Once he gets his thumb on your clit, rubbing tight, furious circles, your eyes shoot open. “Good girl. Dumb baby,” Ghost taunts as you struggle and writhe, you bite down on your lips to hide your shrieks, and your arousal soaks his glove.

At first, you think he will warm you up, take those messy gloves off and stretch you out on a few thick fingers, but he doesn’t. “‘M gonna fuck you so good that you forget about them. You are going to be a dumb- speechless- brainless fucking mess once I’m through.” He grabs his hard, fat cock, hoists you up a little higher, and rubs the head against your folds.

Your cunt flexes, keeping him from sinking inside you as if your body instinctively knows it’s too much.

He huffs out a frustrated laugh and then lifts you onto his cock despite your protests. “No- Ghost, please, you’re too big. You won’t fit, you’re ruining me…” You sob, helpless, as he slowly feeds his dick into your hungry, needy pussy. Your eyes roll back, and you almost bang your head on the wall.

Gravity- gravity is not your fucking friend right now.

In this position, your body weight forces you down onto his shaft, and every inch feels like it goes on forever. Slowly, Ghost begins to rock his hips back and forth, molding your cunt around him.

Your thighs quiver as you cry out. Your juices drip down the base of his dick that he hasn’t managed to shove into you yet, covering him in slick.

“Aw, it’s okay, doll. Don’t worry. Shhhhh. Relax. You’re okay,” He reassures, his voice steady despite his fingers clutching your legs hard enough to bruise.

Then Ghost does something. He stops holding back and forces your thighs back a little more until he’s almost folded you in half.

When the tip of his cock thrusts into that sensitive spot deep inside your pussy, your eyes cross, and you jolt, strung out, absolutely fucking gone. “Fuckkkk-“ You pant, pleasure tightening in your tummy. Your hands tug on his face until he leans down to kiss you, his tongue slipping between your lips.

In a single smooth motion, Ghost slides home. “Oh shit. Shit. Your poor cunt, you’re so sensitive. I can feel you- clenching- and twitching every time I-“ He cuts himself off with a moan, his heavy balls brushing your ass every time he gently grinds into you.

Your limbs seize and twitch, tingles echoing and building through each muscle.

Overwhelmed, blissed-out whimpers flow from you as he fucks you deeper, faster. “Ghost, Ghost, fuck, you’re stretching me open, I can’t take it-“ You beg, practically feeling his dick in your guts.

His pupils blow out, he has a look in his eyes like a predator subduing prey, and you’re more than a little frightened. Ghost towers over you, and you’re completely at his mercy. He could do anything he wants to you.

He is doing what he wants to you, precisely as you need from him.

Your mind shuts off once you realize it, and you sink into a thrilling, primal, feral state of being a bunch of nerves and trembling flesh for him to use and torment. Ghost pins you in place with so much giving, loving, possessive adoration that it makes your teeth ache.

He gasps when your stretched core flutters around him, sucking his cock in as if your muscles are trying to trap him in your body.  “Poor doll, look at you. You can’t take it? You can’t take it?” Ghost mocks your whining while focusing the rest of his attention on fucking your brains out.

“Fuck, fuck, right there, yes,” You wail as your sloppy cunt drenches the front of his jeans.

He hoists you higher in his arms so he can nail your g-spot. “Feels good?” This is how you’ll die; pleas and curses dripping from your lips along with strings of saliva, sweat coating your skin, and webs of ecstasy threading through you like lightning.

You want to feel like this forever; it’s purer than any high and so good that your nerves short out.  “Yes, yes, please. More- I need more…” Your plump tits bounce and jiggle from the force of Ghost rutting into you.

Seeing your red cheeks and mouth hanging open and your breasts heaving drives him insane with desire. Somehow, his cock pounds you deeper, even harder, and he finds a way to grind his jeans against your puffy, swollen clit.

Ghost gently presses his lips to yours, a complete mockery of the wreck he’s making of you. For a long moment, it’s just the two of you, breathing the same air, and the slick squelches of your fluttering, sopping-wet folds as he buries his veiny cock balls-deep.

You’re pretty sure your thighs have small cuts from the rough edges of his gloves, and your neck hurts from the manhandling, but you’re too busy focusing on each breath as everything around you goes fuzzy to care.

Ghost tells you something, his tone low and commanding. It’s his fault you can’t answer - if he wasn’t ruining you for anyone else, thrusting into you with a brutal, punishing pace that’s too much for your sore pussy to keep up with, you might have been able to respond.

Each time he bullies his cock inside, you almost feel like you’re coming. The pleasure is a knife laying you bare before him, and you trust him, you need him, and you want him to destroy you and put you back together. “Who’s fucking you? Use that smart- damn it- mouth.” Ghost slows down, switching to a deeper, gentler rhythm, just enough to clear the fogginess clouding your senses.

Your pussy weeps around him, constricting and spasming as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

“Ghost,” You wail, strung out, your cheeks bright red and your forehead damp with sweat.

Your husband kisses it away, then peppers your cheeks with little pecks. “Who’s making you feel good?” He presses you back into the wall, covering your almost-naked, debauched body with his own.

When your hands seek out the edge of his balaclava, Ghost tips his head so you can get under it and claw the shit out of his neck.

The sight of the hat, still somehow on his head, makes you clench even tighter. He’s just so fucking hot and beautiful, and oh fuck, Ghost is fucking massaging your cunt with his cock while kissing your breath away.

“Ahhh- you- you are, shit.” It’s all him, his dark eyes, and his pale skin flushed with exertion. You flail in his arms, trying to somehow ride his dick while being held aloft.

His voice rumbles in your ear as he growls, his breaths labored as he nears his own orgasm. “Rub your clit, doll. Go on. Make yourself come. Good girl, my perfect, perfect girl,” Ghost encourages you before speeding up again, unceasingly notching the fat tip of his dick against your g-spot, basically helping you use him to get off.

Reluctantly, you remove one of your hands from where your nails are carving bloody furrows into his skin to slip between your arousal and precum-soaked bodies.

It’s like a fucking slip ‘n slide down there, your combined juices trickling into your puckered asshole and all over his balls.

The moment you shakily press the pads of your fingers against your clit, your spine jolts and bows as euphoria rushes through you.

It feels like you’re desperately clinging to the edge of a cliff, trying to maintain sanity and presence of mind, but your oncoming orgasm burns in your veins, the pleasure crawling up the back of your throat and constricting your lungs.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you take my dick.” Ghost sounds like a man unhinged, in total awe. You keep circling your hypersensitive clit, giving up words in favor of animalistic, high-pitched noises and wails.

The brim of the cowboy hat bumps into your cheek when he buries his face into your neck, biting and sucking hickies in time with his deep, shuddering thrusts.

You squirm, bouncing your hips on his dick, and your wrist cramps. “You close, love? I can feel it.” Tears stream down your cheeks, and drool sticks at the corner of your mouth. “I can feel you clenching around me. Do it. That’s it. Come for me.” You feel Ghost’s eyelashes wisping over the skin of your throat.

That’s it. That’s all it takes.

You come screaming at the top of your lungs to the stars, the night sky, and anyone listening.

Your cunt gushes and gushes as you tremble in Ghost’s arms, making a fucking mess with your come, your muscles milk his dick, rippling, squeezing, and pulsing with the waves of bliss drowning you.

Your nails rip little holes into his mask. Ghost fucks you through it, of course, dragging it out even while your eyes shut because it’s too much. “Fuck fuck fuck Ghost! Aaa- fuuuuck.” It doesn’t subside or die away; your orgasm grows stronger, shaking you like a fucking earthquake, your hips jerk uncontrollably, and you pull your fingers away from your swollen, tender clit, too sensitive to keep going.

You choke and sputter as your mind goes blissfully, perfectly blank. Electricity blooms in your veins, lighting up your guts like the fireworks on the Fourth of July.

You try to catch your breath, but the shocks won’t let up. Fresh wetness coats your thighs when you squirt again, this time weakly.

It’s supposed to end. Why isn’t it ending?

Ghost is laughing at you. It’s not a mean laugh. It’s frenzied, he’s on the brink of shattering. “That’s fucking right. One more. You have one more in you.” He’s so close to coming, but he needs that extra push.

His cock stiffens inside you, and you swear you can feel every prominent vein against your pulsing walls. “Say- hngh- ‘please,’” You moan, a determined, devious look on your fucked-out face. You give as good as you get, and fuck; if Ghost is going to drag this out, you’ll make him work for it.

A cold midnight breeze picks up, sweeping cool air across your heated skin and taking with it the scent of sex and sweat.

He messily kisses your cheek, sweeping his tongue along your tears. “Please? You want me to beg? Please come for me again. Pretty please.” You love the moments before Ghost comes because he always tears away the mask and the bullshit for you, like he finds something worth honesty in the depths of your body. “Need you to come again. Need it so bad.” 

Well, how can you resist when he asks so nicely?

You come softly, gently. As your eyes roll back, you gasp, and your swollen, overstimulated core shivers. The sensation ripples and shakes you, then slowly dissipates, leaving behind nothing but clean, pure pleasure, like taking a shot of vodka and sinking into the resulting mindless stupor. Your senses are too overwhelmed for anything bigger.

Ghost comes with you. He hides his long, low moan in his forearm as he grinds into your depths, filling you up with pulses of come only to fuck it back inside. The white spend that doesn’t fit inside your swollen, stuffed folds joins the droplets of squirt blanketing your inner thighs. His spine goes slack, and he almost stumbles backward, drunk on the pleasure of finally coming.

Ghost rights himself before he tips over, reluctantly removing one arm from your hips to brace it on the wall.

Before you know it, he’s placed you back on your weak, shaky legs, completely ignoring his own state of undress to tend to you.

He gets your underwear and shorts back on without letting go of you once. Ghost is rock-solid, taking on all your weight and holding you upright without faltering or asking anything of you. Once you’re covered, he even ties your shirt back together. Ghost is a regular Boy Scout with knots, and he accomplishes it better than you did in the first place. Now, he tucks himself into his boxers and zips up his jeans.

It takes a couple of seconds for you to realize that the thing he’s doing with his arms around your waist is checking your back and seeing if you’re in pain. “Stop it. I’m fine. I highly enjoyed myself,” You scold languidly, a soft, exhausted smile on your face. You are in pain, unfortunately.

Most of the time, you can just tune it out. The pain simmers under the surface as a dull ache promising future consequences. But it’s not anything Ghost needs to worry about right now.

You make this trade-off constantly. A night out at a club for a few days in bed, going to the beach and needing to use a cane the next day. What can you say? It’s worth it. You’ll end up bed bound permanently one day, whether you have fun or not.

Ghost raises an eyebrow, making it plain what he thinks about your statement. “Mm.”

Tonight turned out to be such a lovely night. You don’t want to sour it again with talk about your back.

You wrap your arms around his neck, successfully distracting him and dragging him down for a kiss at the same time. “Thank you for dancing with me. It- um… it meant a lot,” You whisper against his mouth shyly, as if he wasn’t dicking you down in public not five minutes earlier.

When you release him, you gaze at the ground, hoping to hide from Ghost’s knowing look.

“You’re never getting this hat back,” Ghost quips, taking a different tactic instead of calling you out. Then he peels a glove off to nudge your face towards him with his fingers curling under your chin. “I was happy to do it.”

-

Tagging (please let me know if you want off the list by shooting me a message):

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[theslimeologist]

Opinions on dessert types (like a top ten or something?) (also sorry if u get 2 of these i tried sending one and my browser got stuck loading)

dessert types huh? hm..

(did not expect to actually construct a ranked list of 10 dessert genres but here we go)

1: ice cream - it is versatile, it is sweet, it is cold. too cold for you? thats okay! it turns into quite the delicious goop as well!! iced cream is THE penultimate tasty fucking treat. i dont care what anyone else says, ice cream is the salad of desserts. you crave chocolate you have chocolate chunkin brownie bitchin iced creams. okay? and NEVER write off frozen yogurt either, okay? … OKAY?? (it is tasty and well, yogurt is good for you too!)

2: chocolate - erm. yeah. i can just say chocolate. no it isnt just a flavour. chocolate bars, candies, snacks. portable, munchable… expensive. for the best.

3: cookies - the CRUMBLY KIND!!!!! sorry soft cookie enjoyers but when you dunk a soft cookie into milk and you get the same damn cookie but a little COLDER. those thangs dont absorb the milk. and this isnt just about milk dippers- its back to ICE CREAM. you ever crumble a tasty fucking crunchy cookie into a bowl of good vanilla? like. dont get dairy queen. go make some dry cookies right now and use ANY ICE CREAM with actual vanilla bean (extra triple creamy iced creams are kind of a scam they dont taste different and oh also watch out for anything calling itself a frozen dessert that is not truly iced cream.)

4: drinks. Here- have your dessert through a straw, or brave the frontiers with a spoon. milkshakes, iced coffees, ice cream floats, hot chocolates, milk teas.. regular coffee is a dessert to me i guess with this logic. at least with how im drinking it.

5: PASTRIES! Fluffin fuckin tasty flakey holy shit. fresh pastry. uhuh. cream raspberry filling pleaze- littol glaze please… :) croissants count here which gives pastry a very strong edge against any other foods..

6: cake, i guess. has to be good cake. can not have fucking coco nut shreds upon it. can not have pure sugar icing. favourites of mine are cheesecake, a good chocolate cake, and angel food cake with a whipped pudding icing.

7: okay, pie. it can be pretty damn good, it can be very tasty, but the harmony of pastry and filling can be tricky, at least with my autistic DISTASTE for most whole fruits.

8: jello. i had a dream recently that like. i brought back jello foods. and it was good. cause i did it good. so sure. jello. saves your fuckin LIFE while sick, too.

9: dishonourable mentions: popsicles, sour sweets, stuff with cherries, almonds / bland nuts, coconut, fruit chunks according to Slimeo’s 2024 guide to The Ick, black liquorice, “desert pizzas”and anything that is pure sugar. WHICH IS A LOT.

10: brownies. we dont talk about brownies.

0, (ascendant): cinnamon rolls. truly too good and too pure to rank. above all but too humble to hold the title. WE LOVE YOU CINNAMON ROLL

[fablesuntold]

@savethebay sent: “i wish you’d stop trying to destroy yourself in some misguided effort to feel worthy.” — From Victoria Chase to Nathan Prescott.

A jittery, bitter scoff bubbled up from the back of his throat and tumbled past chapped lips as Victoria’s words registered in his head. Feeling worthy.. Nathan wondered what that was like. Mistreated and made to feel anything but by his dad since the moment he’d entered this world, he’d grown up believing he was worthy of nothing but the worst life had to offer. Perhaps that’s why he clung to Jefferson, so. At least he didn’t try to sugarcoat that he was a bad person.. not anymore.

“Fuckin’ keep your voice down.” A sharpish snap that had his knee furiously bobbing faster underneath their booth’s table, anxious eyes glancing left to right as if searching for something in particular. The last thing he needed was some nosy motherfucker in the Two Whale’s Diner of all places to overhear his business. “Sorry.. sorry. I just don’t need more people thinking I’m weak, y’know?” Victoria was perhaps his only real friend in this shithole of a bay. Did he really want to lose her for talking to her like crap?

She was, despite how her Blackwell reputation of being notorious Queen B portrayed her, a good friend.

Migraine still dully throbbing away and blurring the edges of his vision with black dots, Nathan brought both hands up to massage at his temples. Maybe he shouldn’t have partied too hard last night with the rest of the Vortex Club, but.. drinking and toking up was the only way to expel the image of Rachel Amber’s pale, dead face and lifeless eyes that bore into him every time he attempted to sleep. Her ghost was haunting him.

If only he could tell Victoria that, huh? She’d probably run a mile if she knew half of what he’d done. “I dunno what to do anymore, Vic. I don’t sleep anymore. Can’t eat..” Even just being surrounded by food and the delicious aromas wafting throughout the small diner made him want to vomit.

[ophexis]

Hi! I'm alive! Let tell you about the

Elder Scrolls Cookbook!

Winner of the last poll! I know I'm under zero time constraints but sorry for taking a while lmao.

This is kind of going full circle for me, because when I joined tumblr, the very first thing I ever blogged about was my Skyrim playthroughs, not too long before I got into Saints Row and changed my life significantly. So this is kind of nostalgic for me lol. Anyway, onto the book!

The Elder Scrolls cookbook is a CLASSIC. Like I'm pretty sure it's not at all the first "nerdy" cookbook ever made, or even the first cookbook made for a specific franchise or anything, but when this came out it was kind of a big deal, probably because Skyrim was still a big deal lmao. I remember people trading the sweetrolls recipe around.

I kinda wonder if it's one of the first cookbook that tried to stay "in-universe". Because sometimes cookbooks really don't (there are a few Star Wars kids cookbooks that come to mind). But the Elder Scrolls cookbook is in-universe and has little lore snippets in each recipe, which I'm always a fan of.

The book is themed for The Elder Scrolls setting as a whole, but you can tell it came out at the height of Skyrim's popularity lol.

The book starts off with a chapter covering basics, from spice mixes to pie doughs to sauces, which I think is really cool. Not every cookbook has those, and they'll be used throughout the book so it's good to have a look through that chapter. Then the rest of the book is divided between sides, main meals, soups, breads, desserts and drinks. The recipes lean towards hearty recipes, perfect for surviving the harsh wilds of Tamriel.

The Nines know my poor fifth playthrough insomniac mage who I walked manually from Whiterun to the College of Winterhold would have needed it.

The cookbook has a photo for every recipe except one of the meads for some reasons lol. But I'll let that one slide because it's "just" a drink. It's not that hard to put a photo of food on recipes but man it is not standard and I'll complain about it forever. But the Skyrim cookbook has photos, thank the Nines.

I've cooked only one recipe from this book but what a recipe it is. Pictured above on the right, it's the orsimer venison, a sweet, slightly spicy, soy sauce meat recipe that is fuckin delicious and I've made it dozens of time (always with beef bc it's easier to find lol). On the left is the redguard rice, which is a current contender for the recipe I'll make from this for the poll (though I'm also looking at the Companion meatball recipe....which sounds funny said like that lmao). The redguard rice uses ground lamb, and I can't remember ever having lamb before! If I can find it I would definitely like to try.

We also, of course, have the Sweetroll recipe. I haven't made it yet but I recently and FINALLY found a small-sized fluted baking pan so I really want to make them soon.

Overall this is a really solid cookbook, it looks pretty, the photos are huge, there's a little bit of lore and story on every recipe. There are more fish-based recipes than I expected, which isn't as interesting for me but it adds variety. I kinda wish there were a few more main meals in there. I'm also torn on if I'd like the book to be divided by meal types as it is currently, or if it'd be neat to have the chapters be themed around cultures for extra lore flavor, like the DND cookbook. idk!

The recipes are pretty standard and don't tend to go for funky ingredients but I think that's fine. They do tend to go for venison and lamb for meat, which I think makes sense, thinking about Skyrim! (and yes the book is still very heavily focused on Skyrim, thought there are a few recipes from elsewhere) The recipes are hearty, using cheese, meats, lots of veggies and with a significant soup chapter and also lots of desserts. You'll be well fed as you travel Tamriel! Just watch your back for them Dark Brotherhood types.

Bonus themed images bc I feel like it: Some of the few surviving screenshots I had from Oblivion, when our computer couldn't run it well so my dad modded it to run at even lower specs and I'm pretty sure it turned off all the lighting. But I had such a great time.

My khajiit assassin at home uwu

And my main, in casual wear for some reason. She was a heavy armor build lol. And my outlet for making drow, without access to dnd.

ANYWAY hope this was mildly entertaining! I'll try to choose a recipe for this week, but I'm being forced to go into office more often so I can't garantee a time. Currently it's between the redguard rice and the companion meatballs.

Also check out Misohungrie's several few videos of him covering the cookbook and some extra recipes! I love his videos so you should check them out.

[tonysaintborgi]

Hello I am recovering from covid right now and I'm being hit by the rare California hurricane right now and I'm kinda flipping my shit :(

Tell me a fun cooking story please!

oh fuck bro stay safe

so a few years back my aunt had flown out from the east coast to visit my mom and it was like mid autumn so they were like, "Tony you like cooking thanksgiving dinner why not make a mini thanksgiving dinner while she's here?" and I'm like 🐶👍 yea i can do that.

notable fact: i do actually like cooking thanksgiving dinner. as so, at this point, i had years of experience. and as far as I'm aware, I make a pretty good turkey. y'know? well for a number of reasons i was starting this turkey from frozen instead of thawed. i can't remember the exact reasons but they were there, and y'know, i know how to cook so long-cooking a frozen turkey is like. no prablem. wasn't even my first time doing it from frozen.

the fact you can cook a frozen turkey though, apparently news to my aunt, who spent days asking "shouldn't the turkey be thawing?" to which I repeatedly told her Not To Worry, I Know How To Cook. everyone else echoed this to her too, including my mom.

and then Fakesgiving comes.

literally all day she's breathing down my neck bascially. "are you sure you can do that?" yes Auntie Rita. "is it going to be cooked thoroughly?" yes Auntie Rita I prefer not to give people food poisoning. "will it be ready in time?" yes I know how to time food Auntie Rita. "I don't know about it!" well Auntie Rita, I'm the chef. and I do know about it.

so dinner comes. oh. and it was fucking delicious. and it was even more delicious as both my sibling and I both fucking stare down Bitch Supreme as she bites into the turkey and enjoys the fuck out of it. At which point I'm giving her the stink eye and my sibling, who was fiercely defending me because our aunt is just Like This, actually takes the time to go like "Do you see? He spent all day telling you it'd be fine and it turned out amazing. Maybe if you fucking listened to him instead of doubting him and being a bitchy snob all day," and I'm like yup yup and my sibling keeps going off and I'm just like yup yup. i would have defended myself but she actually beat me to it.

and then.

i realize.

it's not just a table of east-coast italian americans. my boyfriend (at the time) (who's not white) is also there.

and he's silent. and he's watching with incredible intent. he's watching my sibling, who's mentally and emotionally exhausted, rightfully snap on my aunt for literally treating me like a child all day and then trying to pretend like she hadn't when it turned out to be fantastic. and she's not mincing any words at all. and she's not holding any attitude back either.

and of course the heat does calm down and we eat and everything but we (me, my sib, and my bf) head to the lower floor & my sibling messages me from her room like "would you apologize to Andre for how I acted" and I turn to Andre and I'm like babe. me and patt are so sorry. and he gets this look on his face and he's like

"NO, I LOVED IT. WHITE PEOPLE ARE CRAZY."

fuckin fantastic 🐶👍 hopefully this story does u good

as a post-script here, hi andre! i know you still occasionally stalk my socials for some reason. 8^) that's creepy, you should move on

[arvensimp]

*as if I’m ordering food at a drive thru* Can we get a fuckin uhhhhhhhhhh

Nsfw where Arven gets jealous of someone talking to y/n (fem or nb preferred!), so he does that whole passionate, steamy, borderline-rough “you’re mine” sex trope? 👉🏼👈🏼

You're lucky the jealous arven machine ain't broke lmaooo.

I was going to make this a pt 2 to green eyed tera type then I saw the nb/fem preferred. And... I was a little torn. I definitely am going to do a pt 2 to that drabble (someone else did already put that request in in my inbox as well!) I hope you don't mind if I give us a different person for Arven to get jealous about haha. I hope you don't mind if I do lean fem with this, too.

--

Different Kinda Jelly

Arven x fem!reader

Nsfw, vaginal sex, very slight dubcon themes (someone attempting a kiss and it becomes a cheek kiss), also some breeding kink? Sorry that's kinda where it ended up I hope you don't mind!!

--

So...you might be in a teensy bit of danger. Just a little bit. In a fun way!

But still danger.

It started with a request from La Primera to attend a tournament in Galar on her behalf. Basically you were supposed to represent rising talent and battling culture in Paldea, yadda yadda yadda. Super cool. Love it. Free trip to Galar!

You had a great time, honestly. You met some really great people and had a ton of fun battling and learning about new and different pokemon, even if there was often a language barrier.

The issue was because of a certain former top champion you met.

See, Leon was a charmer from the moment he greeted you in the lobby of the tournament's hotel with a gleaming smile and a delicious accent in broken Paldean. He'd told you how impressed he was with the videos he'd seen of your battles and how he looked forward to thoroughly thrashing you in front of everyone. He also offered to give you a tour of the area, as was apparently one of his duties as a native to the region.

Your agreement couldn't come fast enough, but the steadying hand on the small of your back as he spoke to you didn't hurt either.

The trouble got worse when you learned that apparently Leon was "pants with directions" and got the two of you lost several times the following day, leading to several public snafus with folks taking pictures of their beloved former champion and some mysterious foreigner at some of Galar's "hottest date destinations!"

The headlines were apparently terribly scandalous, but they were in a language you didn't particularly feel like translating.

However, Penny's a native Galarian and had no problem sharing with Nemona and Arven.

You spent 2 hours the following evening explaining the whole thing to Arven over the phone and how the whole thing was very clearly a misunderstanding, particularly on Leon's part. Nothing happened, and you were fully intending to beat the snot out of Leon in the competition the next day to make it up to Arven.

Then the next day came, and you met Leon on the pitch. You hadn't been able to see him before because of competition regulations or something, but when you met in the middle to shake hands, this man did a full bow and kissed your hand in front of the stadium and all the cameras.

Your face heated up, and you pulled your hand away as gracefully as you could while maintaining decorum for the public.

"Looking forward to our battle, love!" Boy, he got familiar with the pet names awfully fast.

"Looking forward to taking your charizard out of the sky!" You replied with a cheeky grin that hopefully came off as appropriately cocky for the crowds without causing scandal for your region.

In the end, your terastalized tinkaton was able to knock his lizard to the ground and pummel it, resulting in your victory.

You thought Leon might lose it for a moment, but it seemed like he'd only gotten better at dealing with defeat over time. When you met again in the center of the pitch, and you extended your hand, he took it...only to fully dip you for the crowds, causing them to gasp in surprise.

You yelped, and as he went in for a kiss for the cameras, you turned your face just in time, so that he planted one firmly on your cheek instead.

When he let you back to your feet, you both smiled and waved to the crowds before departing.

Backstage your phone had already blown up with texts from all of your friends, and you were already lamenting the roaming fees.

You called Arven first and he picked up before the first ring even finished.

"Are you kidding me?! Who does this guy think he is?"

"I'm about to go let him down. Officially, I guess? I didn't think this needed to happen. Something must have seriously been miscommunicated. I'm sorry you had to see that. Please please please believe me. I don't know what's going on in his head."

"Do you even understand how much this hurts me?"

"I don't. I couldn't, but I can imagine it, and I'm really sorry. I hope you saw how I was trying to avoid it all."

"...I guess..."

You heard a knock at the door to your locker room.

"Listen, Arven. I love you, and I'll be home soon, but I've got to go now. I'll call you back as soon as I can, okay?"

"'Kay. I love you, too."

You hung up and found Leon at the door waiting for you, leaning against the frame with arms crossed and a smile on his face.

"You really gave me a lashing out there, love. Good show!" He said as he made his way into the space.

"Uh....yeah..." You replied as you started to fiddle with the bottom of your jersey.

"So..." He spread out on the sofa like a purrloin.

"Leon...." You started. "What happened?" You asked in Galarian. "Outside?"

"On the pitch?" He gestured. "Just some fun! For the cameras! They love a love story, yeah? Those headlines were top news! It's great for the tournament, too. You're a bit shy though, yea? I'm sorry, love. I should've asked. Sorry." He at least had the decency to look properly sorry.

You frowned. "I...have a boyfriend. In Paldea."

Leon looked like he'd been smacked. "What?! Why didn't you say?"

You tilted your head to the side, trying to formulate a response, then typed one into a translation app on your phone which basically amounted to. "I didn't think it needed to be explained! You never asked?"

Leon at least had the decency to look sorry. He also pulled out a translation device when he realized his thoughts might be too complex for his simple Paldean. He apologized for not realizing that his actions could have been misconstrued the other day and then jumping the gun so publicly today. He genuinely seemed apologetic, so you accepted, on the condition that he also confirmed with Arven that you didn't do anything wrong.

So there in the locker room, you filmed former champion Leon apologizing to your boyfriend for attempting to kiss you on international television.

However, it seemed that all was not entirely forgiven. Galar's headlines forgot about you the moment you lost the tournament to some Kantonian named Red, but Arven?

Arven's a different story.

You're currently sitting on your bed, waiting for Arven to get back to your place, antsy with nerves. You know he's not actually mad because you know he knows you didn't do anything wrong.

But still. You feel bad to have been involved in him feeling bad. You love him.

That doesn't change the fact that you jump a bit when you hear the door open and Arven call your name.

"I-I'm upstairs!" You reply, your voice quivering.

He wastes no time making his way to the bedroom. You stand to give him a kiss, but he skillfully dodges you.

"Welcome back," He says with an even tone, but his eyes are dark.

"I really missed you..." You offer weakly.

"Oh, I know you did." He says, as he starts circling you, not unlike a veluza, almost predatory. "It seems you had a hard time being alone without me, didn't you?"

"Arven, you know I--"

Arven pulls you in close to him, gripping you by the waist and the back of the neck. "Would it have been better if I was there with you? Made sure to keep all those other guys away from my dearest treasure?"

"I-I..."

"I know you're a capable person and all... But you're just so...sweet..." His thumb at your neck rubs circles into the skin there. "Trusting... Maybe I should've tagged along. Kept them all away from you. Showed them who you belonged to, yeah?"

"O-Oh..." You feel your knees buckle a bit, but Arven's grip keeps you upright and secure. He can tell the effect this is having on you though because he smirks and leans in close to whisper hotly in your ear.

"Strip and get on the bed for me, will you?"

You do as you're told, with Arven watching you carefully. Only once you're dutifully in place does he also strip and move to straddle you.

"See here's the thing." Arven tells you as he leans in close, kissing along your neck and jawline. "I know you're a good girl."

The praise makes you whimper without even thinking.

"See?" He laughs softly, darkly. "Like that. I imagine all those other folks out there can tell that about you, too. They want to swoop in and steal you away from me..."

"N-No, Arven..." You whimper pathetically in protest.

"You wanna be with me, don't you, my sweetest?" He asks between hot, biting kisses along your collarbone while one of his hands snakes up to squeeze at your breasts.

"O-of course! Only you!" You reply, hooking a leg over his hips to draw him in closer to you.

Arven moves up to take your mouth in a searing kiss as he grinds his hardness against you. When he eventually moves away to pepper more bites along your neck, he mumbles into your skin. "Maybe I could mark you up...leave you with little marks all along this pretty neck... Show the world that you're mine. Would you like that?"

Your reply comes only as a pathetic whine and nod while your fingers thread through his soft hair.

"I'll take that as a yes then..." Arven replies with a soft chuckle.

As he starts working on dotting your clavicle with hickies, one of his hands goes to unhook your leg from his hips, letting your knees splay open. His fingers deftly move to the growing wetness between your thighs.

"Hmm... Already soaked like this?" He tuts in faux mocking. "Such a needy thing... Guess I have no choice but to take care of you."

You wantonly grind against his fingers as his thumb works glorious circles around your clit, bringing you to a stunning completion in a matter of about a minute that has your thighs quaking while you chant his name like a mantra.

"That's right, sweet thing... You know who you belong to, don't you..." He murmurs, gathering wetness from your folds to lube up his cock. "You're mine." He says as he thrusts into you in one fluid motion that has you choking on an inhalation. It's a little rough, but nothing he knows you're not already comfortable with. It's the same with the pace he sets as he fucks into you.

You do your best to match his thrusts from below, but when he catches on to your movement he pauses. "Ah, ah, ah... Not this time." He says before hefting your knees over his shoulders. The new angle makes for a rougher fuck that hits the most delicious places inside of you.

"I wanna fuck you so hard you never even think of another man. You hear me?"

"Y-yeah..."

"Yeah?" His hips stutter a bit. "You like that?" You nod because you know if you open your mouth the only thing to come out would be stupid moans.

"Good. I'm gonna keep fucking you like this. Make sure all the world knows you're mine. F-fuck... Maybe if I knock you up, everyone else'll get the h-hint!"

That was new. Not something expected or discussed prior, but it did something to you, and Arven clearly noticed.

"Holy f-fuck, that got a rise out of you, didn't it? You got so much, nngh, tighter...Sh-shit.... I'm close. Just...." It only takes a few more thrusts before he cums hard and deep inside you. A moment later, he's let your legs go, and then he's collapsed onto the bed beside you.

"Uh... Sorry for the roughness." He pants. "And, uh, the other thing."

Still entirely blissed out, you look back at him. "Hm? It's okay... I dunno... Maybe I should go to other regions more often..."

[fefairys]

all the pics of the food and drinks we got from the cafe! forgot to get a pic of the highblood and the batterwitch drinks, but we tried those as well! my reviewz of them under the cut bc ppl said they were curious for the tl;dr: everything was lovely!

first image - Dave's apple juice - yeah its just apple juice with a candy apple cold foam which was DELICIOUS and i loved a little appy juice treat :3

second image -

Sburb Soda Beta: Mtn Dew with green apple flavoring Sburb Soda Alpha: Mtn Dew Code Red with Dragon fruit flavoring

these were both really good! they kinda tasted like gushers since they had gushers in em. just soda with some nice flavors in there! super sweet! the sburb alpha was my favorite

third image- the mayor strawberry - i didnt eat the strawberry part but the chocolate was nice and Juice says the strawberry wasn't great, since it isn't strawberry season. he says "it was okay!" enthusiastically lol. it was a real big strawberry 😳 and it was super cute :3

fourth image - Grimsnark Milk Tea: Passion fruit, Jasmine, Marigold, and rose milk tea with a green matcha cold foam - not actually the fuckin neon green color from that picture requiem shared lol! i didn't care for this cause i'm not a fan of how strongly rose-flavored it was? but juice enjoyed it, and the green matcha cold foam was nice :3 Strawberry Lalonde: Strawberry and Rose lemonade topped with sprite - delicious!!! i think the rose part of it gave it the slight flavor of tasting like it was spiked, which was fitting lol and it also came with pink rock candy!!

fifth image - The Pumpkin Rodeo: uhhh i cant find the official description of this but it was two waffles with pumpkin ice cream, whipped cream, green sprinkles, and a candied orange slice! - SO FUCKING GOOD but expensive! but the waffles were fresh and hot and it was so awesome. yummyyy i miss it

sixth image - juice holding the Sopor Slime Pie which was just some key lime pie! it was like, super potent lime flavor.. it was pretty tasty i enjoyed it :) but definitely only recommend it if u like key lime pie a lot cause its like a STRONG one lmao. but it was suuuuper fluffy! very pleasant texture :3

not pictured (sorry i forgor but u can find pics on the instagram it just looked like the picture) - High Blood: Blackberry butterfly pea tea and lavender lemonade Batterwitch Latte: Cake flavored latte with actual Betty Crocker ingredients u could definitely taste all of the ingredients listed in the highblood it was a very nice combination, i enjoyed the blackberry ^u^ two of my friends who tried it gave it rave reviews as well! and the batterwitch was a really good, sweet coffee drink i enjoyed it a lot!!! definitely getting that one again, i think it was my favorite. love me an ice coffee..

[diagonal-queen]

HI I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM HAKSHWKDHKSH 😭😭

SINCE YOURE DOING REQUESTS CAN YOU PLS PLS WRITE SMTH ABT FIRST KISS WITH CHUUYA AAA IT CAN BE A DRABBLE OR HEADCANONS OR ANYTHING, ID ACCEPT ANYTHING PLS IM ON MY KNEES I WILL GIVE YOU COOKIES

THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON!! ALSO YOU DO NOT HAVE TO GIVE ME ANYTHING FOR ME TO WRITE FOR YOU. YOU COULD SAY 'DIA WRITE ME THIS OR I WILL LITERALLY KILL YOU' AND I'D BE LIKE 'YES MASTER :D'. THAT BEING SAID I'M SURE YOUR COOKIES ARE DELICIOUS <3

Mutually Beneficial Transaction

♡ pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: After not seeing each other for a while, you and Chuuya spend the day together. It gets a little more romantic than you expected.

♡ wc: 1.4k

♡ cw: Swearing, mentions of death.

note: I'm so, SO sorry that this took so long to complete anon. This was one of the first reqs I got and I feel like I've let you down T-T I had a bunch of different ideas for this but not a clue which one to use- hopefully you like the end result though <3 Apologies for errors, hope you enjoy x

Most people would see you and Chuuya as you were out and about and make the assumption that you were on a date. After all, you were dragging him from place to place, a couple clothes bags dangling from your free arm while he followed you with a fond smile on his face. You didn't have any issues with this, but it certainly wasn't the case. However, if it were, you're sure you would have been all over Chuuya and vice versa.

Yokohama was well known to be a city teeming with crime, specifically at the hands of the notorious Port Mafia of which Chuuya was an executive. You weren't a member yourself but you didn't feel as if you had anything to fear being close with Chuuya. You assumed that since you'd known each other for so long that you had some form of immunity. That being said, it had been a while since you were able to spend any personal time with him.

That's the reason that, on a rare day off, Chuuya called you to meet him at a nearby cafe for breakfast to spend the day with you. Feeling a little lonely without him, you were more than happy to participate. Thus, you spent the day running around Yokohama with Chuuya doing a multitude of things- shopping, trying different foods, and the like. Doing couple-y things, you thought. The question of whether or not Chuuya was at all like-minded lingered in the back of your head most of the day.

Around mid-evening before dinner, you and Chuuya found yourselves a bench near the port and took your seats, letting your arms rest from the bags they'd been carrying, and your feet rest from taking you so many places. The sunset setting on the horizon was a bright orange, the sky a calming ombre of shades of pink and blue.

"Today was brilliant, Chuuya," you breathed, a serene smile gracing your face as you absorbed the view. "Thank you for all this."

"It's nothin', really," he sighed, brushing a stray ginger lock from his face. "I'm just glad you were happy."

"You're way too nice to me. You know I won't be able to repay you- at least not like this?" You cocked an eyebrow at him, with a chuckle.

"I don't care about that. You spending time with me is payment enough." Chuuya glanced over at you with a smile. "I'm glad I got to hang out with you today."

"It really has been a while, huh?" You mused. "Things are busy in the mafia right now, I guess?"

"Things are technically always busy there, but because I'm an executive I have a lot more shit to do than most other members." He explained.

"That's also why you're so fuckin' loaded, I guess." You joked. The man beside you let out a snicker. "Seriously, though, just because you make a lot doesn't mean you always need to spend it on me."

"It's honestly fine, hon. I mean it. Besides, I kinda like buying you stuff." When you tilted your head at him as if to ask for further explanation, he elaborated. "You always get so excited whenever I get you a gift. It's nice knowing that I'm able to make you happy."

"You make me happy whenever I see you, regardless of whether you buy me things!" You insisted, shifting towards him and earnestly taking his gloved hand in your own. "I like spending time with you! I wouldn't be your friend if I didn't, you know."

"...yeah." He squeezed your hand. "...hey, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Chuuya."

"Have you been feeling lonely recently?" The question surprised you, because it seemed rather random and uncharacteristic coming from Chuuya. You turned to face him.

"I mean...I guess, a little. It's been kinda lonely not having you around. Sometimes I got worried that you'd died or something," you admitted, your voice quiet.

"Died? Me?" Chuuya asked, making you giggle.

"I know, I know. Even God wouldn't be able to kill you. But I really couldn't help but worry. I'm glad to have been able to spend today with you. I like knowing that you're alright," you cast him a genuine smile, "and I had a great time. Did you?"

"'Course I did. I was with you." Chuuya responded returning your beam. You tapped your lips and weakly swatted at him.

"Shush, you."

"Now that I think of it, I did kinda miss messing with you." Chuuya leaned forward as his eyes narrowed.

"You're so damn sadistic, Chuuya. No wonder you're a mafia exec- that title suits you to a tee," you scoffed, pushing your finger into his forehead. "I can't even catch a break when I'm on your good side."

"Don't complain, you have it pretty easy with me."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." You rolled your eyes. "Cheeky..."

"Who's cheeky?" Chuuya raised an eyebrow. You leaned forward to reach his eye level, both of you staring one another down. You smirked at him.

"The one spending all his money on me so that he can mess with me, maybe?" You suggested, with a small head tilt. The pair of you shared a quick chuckle, before it suddenly dawned on you how close you were to Chuuya.

You took note of how soft his glove felt on your hand, and how his breath danced across your face. The air around you suddenly seemed hot and sticky. You could hear your heartbeat in your temples.

"...you know what?" Chuuya spoke softly. "If you wanna repay me, maybe there's one thing you can do..."

Your eyes flickered towards his lips. "Yeah?"

"Mhm. You don't have to do it if you don't want to...but I'd appreciate it a lot."

"Anything for you, Chuuya," you breathed.

"Is that right?"

"Of course..." You had mentally prepared for this moment for years, and you felt a surprising amount of confidence. Though, that was mostly because Chuuya seemed to be returning your...very fervid attitude. You were both quiet, the only sounds being your slightly wavering breaths. Your faces were barely centimetres apart now.

"In that case..." you inhaled and closed your eyes in anticipation, quickly melting into his touch when your lips connected.

Chuuya did feel warm, and you felt a tingle in your chest. Your first kiss with Chuuya was better than you'd expected; not only did Chuuya meet all of your expectations but he also seemed equally interested in kissing you. You could only assume, anyway, when Chuuya's fingers found their way beneath your chin and gently lifted your face up so he could better access your lips.

The moment felt fleeting. When Chuuya pulled away you wanted to take his face and keep kissing him, but you didn't. That would probably shock him. You opened your eyes to see Chuuya's blue ones boring into yours. His face was relaxed, if a little flushed.

"Oh...oh, you're good at kissing..." You practically mouthed, you were so quiet. Chuuya couldn't hold back his laugh at your expression.

"How kind of you."

"No, like-!" You huffed, pushing him away from you. "You are a sadist."

"Nah, not to you," he shook his head. You didn't know what to say to him. Chuuya let out a relenting exhale. "I can be if you want me to be."

"...yeah. To be honest, you'd kinda lose half your charisma if you weren't." After saying that, he gave you a frown. You stifled a giggle.

"I'm the cheeky one?"

"Yes, you are. But I think I prefer it that way," you smiled. Chuuya truly couldn't get enough of it.

"I think...and you be quiet," he began, pointing a stern finger towards you. "...I think you and I are a good match. Dating-wise."

"You don't say?" You teased.

"Y/N, I'm being serious here," he insisted, taking your hand once more. "Can I be your boyfriend?"

"...yes?!" You raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't have kissed you if the answer was no? You dense idiot, Chuuya."

"My apologies for making sure I wasn't dragging you into something you didn't want," he rolled his eyes. You laced your fingers together, before lifting your joined hands and pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. His gaze softened. "...thanks, hon."

"Seriously, though, I actually won't be able to spoil you or anything like that, so are you really sure you wanna date me?" You asked.

Chuuya sighed in exasperation. "I'm cuttin' you off if you keep this shit up, Y/N."

"Okay, okay!"

i'm kinda tempted to write something now based on my first kiss because imo it was CRAZY romantic, but i don't wanna disrespect the person with whom i shared said kiss. if you're reading this; hey man do i have permission to write a loose recount of what we did except instead of us it's like some fictional people? i will give you a creative credit for worldbuilding