#all i really had to do was stop using bar soap on my face

[thatfizzyyyy]

i have clear skin now where is the good mental health 🧍🏾‍♀️

[countcvnt]

Dwell On It

[Ghost x Fem!Reader x Soap]

Summary: Your roommate hits you with the worst sentence you've ever heard in your life, and you can't help but dwell on it. Warnings: MINORS DNI!! 18+ Oral (f! receiving), pet names (doll/love), praise, threesome, not beta'd Word Count: 3.2k A/N: Was gonna write this with like ghost not wearing his mask, but i was already halfway through so... Mask Stays On During Sex. (don't ask why i didn't just have him take it off, idk...)

“Fuck!” You get home and slam the door of your apartment.

You want to scream louder, but you don’t want anyone to complain. You kick your shoes off at the door, a little too violently, and your roommate walks out from his room.

“You good?” His voice is full of confusion, he looks tired.

“Sorry, Hunter,” You groan, “I didn’t know you were here…”

You sigh and walk towards your room. He rubs his eyes and watches you closely. He squints at you. “What happened?” You scrunch your nose up. “I don’ wanna talk about it.” You mumble, entering your room. “It’s just, I have to do everything! All the time! Dishes? Me. Trash? Me. Paperwork? Me!” You want to scream again.

“Oh, so you do wanna talk about it?” Hunter cocks a brow at you.

You refrain from swinging. “Hunter, I’m tired. Okay?” You walk towards your bathroom and Hunter trails behind you.

“You still going out tonight?” He asks, like he’s planning something. “WIth those, uh, big military men?” You nod. “Well, tell them something for me?” You nod again. “You need your pussy ate.”

Your mouth drops. Hunter leaves your room. His name can’t even form. You're stunned. Your roommate has successfully stunned you. You stand in your bathroom, for a moment and hear Hunter’s door click. You come to your senses and rush towards his bedroom. You jiggle the doorknob. Locked.

“I won’t be here tonight.”

You let out a frustrated scream into your hands and walk back into your room. You look at the alarm on your nightstand and see you have two hours before you have to be at the bar. You groan. Two hours to dwell on the words Hunter had just said to you.

You sit at the bar, face contorted with displeasure as you wait for Simon and Johnny. You sip your water and huff. Your feet kick off the barstool and you keep thinking about Hunter. You wish you would have throttled him.

“Hey bonnie! Oh- You look-”

“Happy to see us.” Simon lets out a low rumble, causing you to turn towards them.

You lighten up. Or try to. “Sorry, had a horrible day. Roommate decided to make it worse and go to his room with no remorse.”

Johnny cocks his head. “How’d he make it worse?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I came home stressed, and he said the most untrue statement I’ve ever heard!”

“Which was?” Simon asks.

You want to not tell them, but they’re curious. And you’re still butthurt about it. “That I ‘need my pussy ate’!” You exclaim. “Which,” You put a finger up, “is so far from the truth- Like? Why would he say that?”

“Did he offer to do it?” Johnny really asking the important questions is pissing you off.

“No!”

“Bad roommate etiquette.” Simon smiles. The corners of his eyes crinkling gives it away.

“Shut up.” You mumble and sip your water. Johnny laughs. His hand hits your back as he continues to laugh. “What?” You give him a blank stare.

“I think your roommate was onto something.” Johnny can’t stop laughing. You want to get up and leave. You look at Simon, who is also finding amusement in your situation. You want to die. You stand from your chair and roll your eyes at them. Johnny reaches for your arm but you don’t yank away. “Where ye goin’, bonnie, we just got here!”

You pout at him. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” Johnny gives you a concerned look. Hunter’s words run through your head, ‘so you do wanna talk about it?’ You do want to talk about it, but not right here. In front of everyone. “I don’t need that. Never have, never will.” You stand firm on your words. And let something slip that you normally only would if you’ve been drinking. “Not like it’s that great anyway.”

Simon and Johnny both stare at you. Johnny’s eyes widen. “You’ve never- Wait a minute.” Johnny collects his thoughts. “You’ve never had some good head?”

You want to hide. Run to the bathroom and escape through the window. As if either of them would let you do that… Knowing you have nowhere to run, you answer. “No. I guess not.”

“Y’know,” Johnny hops off his seat and locks eyes with you, moving closer. “I can’t speak for Ghost,” he motions towards his friend, “but I’m sure I could change that.”

Your stomach flips. The butterflies in your stomach are rapidly turning into bumblebees. Your eyes widen and you look at Simon. He moves himself from his stool and is looming over you. You look up at him.

“Our hotel isn’t far from here, doll.”

Your mouth is agape. “Oh.” You say, placing a hand on your chest, ready to clutch your non-existent pearls. Without thinking, you speak up. “My roommate’s out tonight. We can go to mine?”

“Too dangerous.” Simon shakes his head. Johnny nods. You put your hands up. “Anyway,” Simon continues, “don't need any noise complaints from your neighbors.”

“Oh?” Johnny smirks at him. “Think yer gonna have her screamin’ that loud?” Simon rolls his eyes. You're standing beside the bar, baffled. All you can do is blink up at them. “What’d’ya say?” Johnny questions you. “Wanna come back with us?”

“You'll never wanna leave.” Simon's voice is gruff, sure. He's so sure of himself.

“Y'know what,” you nod, “yes. I don't think I can pass this up…”

Johnny seems relieved. He begins to leave the bar, you trail behind him, and Simon walks out behind you. Johnny is quick to wave down a cab. The three of you pile in the back, and you are so very sure that they can hear your heart pounding against your ribcage. You think the taxi driver can by the way he looks back at you when Simon gives him the hotel name.

His eyes linger on yours, you give him a smile, really not wanting him to think poorly of your currently awkward situation. You're in the middle of Simon and Johnny. Johnny's hand grips your thigh, just where your short black dress ends. He's almost massaging in. Simon places hand on your other thigh, giving it a tight squeeze. You look up at Simon and see he's looking at the driver through the rear view mirror. His eyes cut down to you and you swallow hard.

The cab reaches the hotel and you bring out your purse. Johnny is quick to stop you from paying and Simon pulls out his wallet. Johnny exits and helps you out. “Thank you,” you look back at the taxi driver and wave at him.

As you three enter the hotel, Simon walks up beside you, his hand snaking around your waist. “Did you thank and wave at the cab driver?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Yer so sweet.” Johnny compliments you. His hand grabs hold of yours. “Can't believe ya've never had-”

“Sh,” you swat at him with your free hand, when someone walks past the three of you. Johnny smirks at your reaction. The three of you make it into the elevator and Johnny hits the floor they're on. You're standing in the elevator; Johnny, you, then Simon. Johnny is holding your hand and Simon is still latched onto you like a lifeline. You're watching the floor number go up when Johnny steps in front of you, his grip on your hand tightening. “What?” You whisper.

“Y'know, we've been on a couple dates-”

“Is that what those were?” You genuinely didn't have a clue.

Simon stifles a laugh when Johnny is taken aback. “Yeah!” He groans, “Not the point. We haven' kissed, bonnie.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’. “You can change that, you know.”

Without a word, Johnny leans in and kisses you. Your heart, which is still pounding, is now in your throat. Simon is watching the both of you. He shifts, situating himself, his eyes and arm never leave you. The elevator stops. Simon's grip on you tightens and Johnny pulls away. He moves back to the side of you and you're left standing there, eyes locked with the woman stepping on.

“Oh my,” the words leave her mouth seemingly without thinking.

You smile at her. Awkward but genuine. Simon directs your attention to him. Johnny is still holding your hand, he's watching you and Simon now. Simon leans down and moves his mask up slightly. “My turn, love.”

You eagerly push yourself up and into the kiss, forgetting a woman was in the corner of the elevator. Johnny's hand tenses around yours, his thumb rubbing the back of it while you kiss Simon. The elevator is abruptly stopped and the lady immediately exits. Simon pulls away and you're left staring up at him, like he’s hung the moon and stars.

“Guess she wanted to take the stairs. Can't imagine why…”

The elevator goes up a couple more floors and stops on Simon's and Johnny’s. Johnny leads you out of the elevator and Simon follows you, not letting you go. You follow Johnny down the hall and reach their room. You swallow hard, heart beating in your ears. He unlocks the door and swings it open, motioning for you to go in. Simon escorts you into the room and Johnny closes the door behind the three of you. It locks, the click echoes through the room.

“So… Men,” you look at the both of them, “what now?”

“I think it's sorta obvious,” Johnny smiles at you. “If at any time you are uncomfortable, let us know.”

You nod. “Of course. Um,” Your palms are sweaty against the outsides of your thighs now, “how do we start?” They both stare at you. “What?!” You whine, “I’ve only ever had one serious boyfriend and this was not his forte!”

Johnny and Simon both give you solemn looks. You want to hide again. You can't help but feel like you're being judged. You shift your weight and keep yourself planted, from running away.

“Simon,” Johnny looks at his friend, “wanna do the honors? Since you're so sure you can get her to scream?”

You want both of them. “We have the whole night.”

Johnny perks up. “You wanna stay the whole night?”

“I mean, I can-”

“You're so cute.” Simon remarks. “I'm sure we'll find something to occupy us all night.”

And so your long night begins.

“You can take that off…” You whisper to Simon, “I know your name, why can’t I know your face?”

“It’s better this way, love.” Simon pulls the bottom of his mask up, uncovering his mouth again.

The mysteriousness… The anonymity is hot… You will not deny it. But you want to see him. You want to gently touch his face and kiss him softly. By the look in his eyes, he wants to kiss you too, but maybe not as gently. You reach up and cup Simon’s face, bringing him towards you. Simon lets you. He lets you grab him and place a soft kiss against his lips.

You’re so soft and sweet. And he has every intent of making you his.

“If you two are gonna make out, can I-” Johnny motions towards you. Simon sighs, pulling away from you. “I wanna taste you, bonnie…” It is at that exact moment you realize just how convincing of a man Johnny is. You nod at him. Johnny moves behind you, causing you to cock your head. You look over your shoulder at him.

Simon seems to know what’s about to happen.

Johnny’s hands grab your waist and he kisses your neck before dropping to his knees. ‘Oh,’ You think as you look back at Simon, ‘he’s doing it right here.’ Johnny moves to a sitting position, pats your thigh for you to spread your legs slightly, and you do. He scoots himself between your legs and is now on the floor, between you and Simon.

Simon gives you a moment before kissing you again. He observes you. Johnny looks up at you as he grabs your thighs with a grip you have never felt before, and he hitches your dress up some.

“No panties, huh?” Johnny smirks at you, his fingers going straight for your entrance.

“No!” You jump at his warm hands, “Those were not an option with this dress.”

Simon and Johnny both nod. Simon begins to kiss you once more, as one of Johnny’s fingers push into you. You moan into Simon’s mouth and you grab his forearms, tightly. Johnny kisses your thigh and pushes another finger inside of you while Simon slips his tongue into your mouth. Simon’s hands hold you in place, they grip your hips. You are sure you are going to have marks in the morning.

Johnny is good with his fingers. Phenomenal even. The way you’re being kissed by Simon while Johnny nips and sucks on your thigh and fucks with his fingers is magical. You let out a high pitched whine and Simon pulls back.

“You feel alright?” He asks. You can only nod. You try to answer but only whimpers and moans are escaping you. “You’re doin’ great, doll.”

Your whole body is on fire. You can’t think straight and your stomach is in knots. Your eye clinch shut and finally words form, “I’m gonna-”

Johnny’s fingers pull out of you and you gasp. You look down at him in shock and confusion. He places his fingers in his mouth and sucks on them. Simon watches Johnny and then looks back at you. You pout. Hard. Words aren’t forming again and you are a mumbling mess.

“Use your words, love.” Simon smiles at you.

“Why’d you stop! Please continue.”

“Anything for you, my sweet girl.” Johnny looks up at you and you realize his pupils are dilated. His big blue eyes are dark with lust and hunger. He dives in. He is slowly lapping at your pussy and you’re tensing up again.

Simon steadies you and keeps you from falling forward. You are holding onto Simon like your life depends on it. Johnny’s tongue hits your clit and your body jolts, your back arching. Simon’s lips latch onto your neck and he begins to suck on the sensitive skin, he still keeps you steady. You are moaning out and crying for Johnny; for him to let you finish.

His name falls from your lips, “Johnny!” You whimper, legs clenching together. He is quick to hold your legs apart. Your orgasm hits hard and fast. You’re shaking above Johnny, holding onto Simon, who is still sucking at your neck.

Johnny pushes himself back between your legs and stands up behind you. “You’re so good,” Johnny turns you towards him and his mouth and chin is sticky from the slick of your pussy. “You’re bein’ so good for us.” He gives you a kiss and you’re still trying to collect yourself.

Simon pulls away and you stare at him. He’s looking at you, his eyes darker than Johnny’s. His smile has dropped. His face has dropped. He is watching you with a predatory gaze.

“Your turn,” Johnny smacks Simon on the shoulder.

“Take your dress and shoes off.” His voice… You immediately comply. “On the bed.” Once again, you do as he says. “Get behind her Johnny.”

Johnny seems thrilled. He must know what is about to happen. You are set at the end of the bed, and Johnny crawls behind you. He lets you lean back onto him, he lets you get comfortable. You watch as Simon stalks towards the bed, towards you. You are putty in his and Johnny’s hands. You are sure by the end of the night, you would do absolutely anything or them.

Simon drops to his knees in front of you and looks with the same hunger Johnny watched you with earlier. You, in your fucked out daze, could still pick out the difference in their stares. Johnny’s gaze was filled with a sweetness, one that gave you butterflies. Simon’s gaze is wild, full of fire, and has you gripping the sheets before he’s touching you.

Johnny’s hands are rubbing your biceps as he whispers praises in your ear. You’re too focused on Simon to really catch what Johnny is saying. Your heart is pounding again, and you want nothing more than to be touched. You need Simon to touch you.

“If this is too much-”

“Let us know.”

You are nodding, violently. “Please,” You beg, “please just touch me.” Simon’s smile returns, and it’s lethal. His hands grip your thighs and you flinch. You can already see marks from Johnny’s earlier grasp on you. Simon begins to bite and suck at your thighs, a lot harder than Johnny had. One his hands moves up your thigh and two fingers push into you. His movements are somewhat harsher than Johnny’s. He is no way harming you, but Johnny was so gentle. The difference is jarring, in a good way.

Simon’s mouth moves up your thigh and he easily finds your clitoris. He sucks at the bud as his fingers pick up the pace inside of you. You are crying out for him, begging him to go faster, harder.

“Sure ye can take it?”

“Yes, please-”

Simon doesn't argue. He gets a little more rough with you. His hands holding your hips down holds you tighter. Johnny’s mouth connects with your shoulder and he kisses you softly, still giving you praises. Your hips buck slightly, but Simon is holding them too tightly for you to go anywhere. You let out a cry of pleasure. One of Johnny’s hands is on your arm, rubbing circles into the skin, while the other goes towards your chest, settling at your breast. He begins to massage it, before pinching your nipple.

Your back is arching again. Your hips are chasing after Simon’s fingers. Your body is hot again, your stomach is knotting up. Your toes curl and you let out a loud whine.

“Simon!” You’re gripping the sheets. “Please- So close-” You moan.

“So good,” Johnny reassures you, “Bein’ such a good girl for us.”

It sends you over the edge. Your body is shaking. You’re seeing stars and don’t want either of them to stop touching you. Simon pulls away from you as you’re coming down. He looks up at you, and your eyes are on Johnny. You’re breathing heavily. You look down at Simon through half lidded eyes and he stands up. He is so fucking big.

“I’m glad-” You start, “I’m glad my roommate was an asshole.”

“I’m glad he didn’ offer to do that for you.” Johnny presses his forehead to your shoulder.

You let out a soft laugh. “He definitely would not have done that…” You begin to sit up. Johnny and Simon are quick to stop you.

“Where are ye goin’?”

“I, uh, was gonna-”

“You’re not leavin’ now, are ya, doll?” Simon asks. He seems genuinely curious. He doesn’t want you to go. Not yet.

“I don’t have to. The night is still young…” Johnny hugs your waist tightly as you say that. “And I’d love to repay the both of you…”

It was definitely going to be a long, eventful night.

[shadowspromise]

ghoapy thoughts

Ghost has a stupid crush on you. He swears he’ll deny it till the end of time.

Soap has an enthusiastic crush on you. He makes it painfully obvious.

Ghost has an even stupider crush on Soap. He tells himself every morning not to let his feelings get ahead of his job.

Soap has, yet again, an enthusiastic crush on Ghost. It’s even more obvious, somehow, than his crush on you.

You know that Soap’s down tremendously for Ghost, but you know that he’s also flirting with you. It confuses you, making you wonder if he’s just naturally flirty or if he really likes both of you.

Ghost wakes up every morning, looks in the mirror, gives himself a firm slap across his own face and tells himself to behave. Crushes are stupid and he’s a grown man with a grown man job. He doesn’t have time for his stupid feelings.

Oh, but when it’s just Ghost and Soap at the bar together, after a few too many drinks…

They can’t help but talk about each other, talk about you. They keep buying each other drinks, knowing that at this rate they’ll have to call someone to pick them up.

“Could barely focus during Price’s meeting today. You an’ Y/N wearin’ those tight shirts… drivin’ me up the damn wall…” Ghost rambles, his eyes parallel to Soap’s.

“Ah did it on purpose, ya know ah love distractin’ you…” Soap responds, his accent thicker due to the alcohol. His cheeks are heavily tinted red, both from blushing and the drinking.

“You think Y/N knows what they’re doin’ to us? Think they do it on purpose too?” Ghost replies, smirking from under his mask. He lifts it over his nose to take another drink.

“God, I hope so,” Soap mumbles, rubbing his temples. He can’t even remember how many drinks he’s had tonight.

“You a’ight Johnny? Think we should go?” Ghost asks, intentionally touching Soap’s shoulder as an act of comfort (and seduction).

“Ah’m fuckin’ blootered, ah’m see’in colors when I close my damn eyes… cannae even feel my toes properly…” Soap starts muttering. Ghost only comprehends about half of what he just said but gets the general point.

“I’ll ask someone to get us. We’ll wake up in a whorehouse if we try walkin’ ourselves back…” Ghost pulls out his phone, squinting his eyes at the screen, trying to focus.

He texts Gaz and gets no answer, probably because it’s late and he’s sleeping.

He texts Price and gets the response of “You’re big boys, get yourself back.”

That leaves you. He decides to rethink a nicer message than the “pick johnny and I up cuntbag” he sent to the others.

“Johnny and I are drunk. Would appreciate if you came and walked us back to base.”

Simon mentally gives himself a pat on the back for managing to type all that without sounding condescending or making a dozen typos.

You respond within 15 seconds, to his surprise. Although he knew you were a good boy/girl and were always eager to help.

“Sure thing. Will be there soon ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ”

The little emoticons you send him drives him mad.

“Aye, you think they’re into me? They put a… fuckin’ dog or whatever…” Ghost shows Johnny his phone.

“That’s a bear, mate,” Soap points at the text.

“I think it’s a dog.”

“Well you’re wrong, ye braw bastard.”

The bar is just about a ten minute walk from base and you’ll be there any minute, so they spent their “alone” time talking about you (and the things they’d do to you)

When you arrive, Soap gets overly excited and falls over. Ghost tries with every nerve in his body not to laugh, attempting to keep up the cold and stoic personality for you.

You guide them back to base, stopping Soap from stumbling onto the road. Ghost is much more physically put together, but mentally he’s having an aneurysm. He’s staring at Johnny’s ass whenever he has the chance and can physically feel himself get warmer when your arm brushes against his.

At base, you attempt to push them into their separate rooms but they refuse. Ghost and Soap give one drunken look at each other and it’s seconds before they’re cornering you.

That night, all three of you had your dreams come true.

[angel5ofp0rn]

idk, just a thought 😋

141 x Drunk!Reader / Jealous!Ghost x Drunk!Reader

TW: implied drunk sex

(idk what’s up with me and making the reader drunk all the time ???)

also idk i just like the idea of Soap being a perv and Ghost being a fuckin weirdo 🫣

You didn’t expect the guys to actually give a shit about your birthday... Maybe it was just the excuse to drink.

Still, you couldn't deny that you loved seeing the squad out of uniform and all dressed up for the night.

You even put on a little skirt and low-cut top, curled your hair and wore makeup for the first time in months.

Price bought you your first drink just as a 'happy birthday, kiddo', but it didn't stop there.

Soap got you a few shots and Gaz let you sip from his drinks throughout the night.

You were feeling pretty buzzed by the time you convinced some of the guys to move to the dance floor.

Ghost watched quietly from his spot at the bar across the room. You expected as much.

The two of you have been keeping your distance; you were basically still strangers, apart from the random glances you give each other during training.

Ghost thought of at least saying happy birthday to you, but he wasn’t sure how to go about it.

He wasn’t exactly an affectionate man. Wasn’t great at showing his feelings.

Feelings? The fuck was he thinking?

You’re just nice to look at, that’s all.

It was strange seeing you with your hair curled and your skin showing, almost like a real woman. He had a nagging thought that if the guys weren’t around, he would've gone over to you.

You and Soap are on the dance floor, you tipsy and swaying while he holds your waist, keeping you steady as he mumbled something close to your ear.

"I don't think so." You muse, looking up at Soap. He had asked if Price was watching the two of you, knowing Price has a tendency to act like a father towards you especially. "Why?"

Soap took a moment before he spoke again, the alcohol clearly getting to him. His words were becoming more and more slurred throughout the night, although he still had that Scottish accent mixed it that kept him sounding charming... though almost unintelligible.

"Y'know yer beautiful, aye? An' th' lads, they've been eyein' ya for the whole night. 'Course ol' Price, he's been' tryin' to keep us from gettin' yer attention… But even Ghost! Ghost thinks yer fuckin’ gorgeous.”

"Ghost thinks that?" You tried to focus your eyes on Soap’s, fighting the alcohol.

Soap leaned in even close now, his breath smelling like strong liquor. He even placed his hand on the small of your back, right above your skirt as he spoke again.

"Oh, aye. But we all do… I do."

You giggled at that. Soap's arm wrapped tightly around your waist now, pulling you chest to chest and murmuring more drunken ramblings into your ear.

You quickly forgot what Soap mentioned about Ghost.

But Ghost was still watching.

He watched the way Soap leaned in to whisper in your ear, the cocky smirk on his face, how dangerously close his hand was to your ass.

He watched you drape your arms around Soap’s neck, eyelids heavy. He watched how your eyes wouldn’t focus on Soap’s eyes; they kept darting down to his lips.

Ghost didn’t watch to watch anymore.

“The steamin’ hell’r you doin’, LT!” Soap calls after Ghost as the masked man grabs your arm and drags you off.

“Let me go!” You groan, trying to pull away from his grip. When that didn’t work, you tried to stomp his toes.

No use, he had those fucking steel toes on as usual. After more ignored pleas, you resorted into trying to drop to the floor like a sack of potatoes; like an unruly toddler.

Ghost didn’t miss a beat. He easily scooped you up and slung you over his shoulder as he head towards the bar’s exit.

The second he set you back to your feet outside on the pavement you tried to shove him.

Stupid idea, really. Fucker didn’t budge.

“What is your problem?” You glare at him.

“My problem?” Ghost’s voice was low. “You were about to let MacTavish feel you up in front of everyone in there.”

“Who cares if Soap and I have a bit of fun? What, are you jealous or something?” You groan.

“Of course I am!”

You froze. Your eyes locked in with his.

“You’re… jealous?” You ask again, softer this time.

You can see the subtle movement of Ghost’s jaw clenching beneath his balaclava.

“You’re drunk.” Ghost states. “You should get back to base and sleep it off.”

He’s right, of course. But you don’t listen.

You don’t fully realize you’re doing it, but you reach your hand up and touch his face.

Well, his mask.

Ghost’s breath hitches, and he thinks of swatting your hand away but he doesn’t. He lets your cup his face. Caress his jaw. Rub your thumb over the fabric covering his lips.

He even lets you pull him in closer, lets you get just an inch away from touching noses before he speaks again.

“I cant kiss you.”

You finally come back to earth, your drunken mind suddenly sobering.

“Oh.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, both silent. Both unsure of what happens now.

“Guess I’ll just go-”

“I want to.” Ghost speaks again. “I would like to.”

“Okay…”

“But I can’t.” His huge arms cross as he looks down at up. For something so genuine, he’s saying it as if it’s a threat.

“Right…” You nod slowly, your drunken brain trying its best to gauge what’s happening. “So..?”

“I can’t have you flirting with MacTavish.” He practically growls. “He doesn’t want more than a quick fuck.”

You frown at this, eyebrows lowering into a scowl.

“So you won’t kiss me, but I can’t flirt with anyone else?”

“Yes.” Ghost acts as if this was common sense.

“‘s’not fair.” You roll your eyes. “You can’t do that t’me.”

“Well, I am.”

“Are not.” You challenge. You push past him and re-enter the bar, leaving him outside and alone.

“Bonnie!” Soap calls you over as soon as he sees you.

He’s sat at a table with a bunch of other men that you don’t recognize. He pats his thigh, inviting you to have a sit on his lap.

Ghost’s warning still fresh in your head makes you hesitate.

But who is he to tell you who you can and can’t flirt with? He doesn’t even talk to you.

You try not to stumble as you make your way towards Soap, accepting the invite to sit on his lap. His arm instantly wraps around your waist, holding you in place.

“Didn’t know you had a barracks bunny.” One of the men snickers as he looks you over.

You frown, looking to Soap, waiting for him to correct them. To explain that you’re actually on the squad- no, the best sniper on the squad. An asset to the team, really.

Instead, Soap laughs along with the rest of them, giving your thigh a squeeze. “Nah, nah. ’m keepin’ this bunny all to m’self.”

You had to have heard him wrong, right? Maybe it was the alcohol affecting your hearing.

Before you could defend yourself, you felt Soap’s hand sliding up your thigh, slipping under your skirt.

Your face is burning. The guys all laugh. You feel sick.

Flirting and kissing is one thing… Soap treating you like a sex toy is another.

“Soap, stop.” You mumble, pushing his hand away.

Soap gives you a wink. He thinks you’re playing some sort of game here. His hand starts to creep up your bare thigh again. His lips press against your neck.

“I said stop!” You stand up and shove him by his chest, admittedly harder than you intended to.

Soap landed on his back on the dirty bar floor, his face a mix of pissed off and confused.

Price was by your side immediately, pulling you away from the table as Gaz helped Soap to his feet.

“I’m sorry, Price, I just-“

“I’ve got you a cab outside. Get your ass back to base and sleep it off.” Price barked.

Sober you could handle commands and threats like they were nothing.

Drunk you started tearing up immediately.

Price mumbled something that sounded like ‘for fuck’s sake, kid’ as you turned and walked outside.

Ghost was still outside, balaclava lifted so he could smoke a cigarette.

You didn’t notice him as you slid into the back seat of the cab, but he saw you.

Then he saw Soap and Price exiting the bar one your cab took off.

He watched calmly, smoking as normal while Price stood with his foot on the side of Soap’s head/face, Soap’s cheek pressed against the pavement.

He couldn’t hear what they were fighting about and frankly he didn’t care. He wondered if any of it had been the cause of your teary eyes.

•••

You lift your face off of your pillow and squint at the caller ID as your phone rang.

You’d only been back in your room for about an hour at this point and you’ve been trying to battle the spins.

You swipe to answer the call, smushing your face back into the pillow and closing your eyes again.

“H’llo?”

“Make it back to base okay, kiddo?” Price’s stern, gruff voice came through the speaker

“Mhm.” You mumble your response.

“Good. Sorry about MacTavish; drunken Scot can’t handle his alcohol…” Price sighs. “He’ll be dealt with in the morning.”

“s’okay.” You nod even though he can’t see it.

“You sure you’re alright then?”

“Mhm…”

Price exhaled a deep breath. “Get some shut eye. I'll be seeing you at 0530 sharp for PT."

"Yes sir. Love you."

You didn't fully realize that you told Price that you love him as if you were speaking to your dad.

Price was quiet for a second before his tone subtly shifted to sounding more gentle. "Love you too, kid. I'll see you at five-thirty."

You end the call and force yourself to sit up despite your still tipsy state. You knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep with everything on your mind.

Well… with Ghost on your mind.

You call him next, not really expecting him to answer at all. He kind of doesn’t; there’s no voice on the other end, but you could tell he was there.

“Ghost?”

“Yeah.”

“So- Why… why didn’t you kiss me?” You stand up off of the bed and pace your room. More like stumble around your room.

“Can’t.”

“But why?” You groan. “Is it because of Price?”

“We work together.”

“So?” You find a hoodie and pull it on over your going out clothes. “That didn’t stop Soap.”

Silence.

“And I… I really wanted you to, y’know? And… I think I said ‘love you’ to Price. Y’think he’ll be mad at me?” You start kicking your heels off.

“…you told Price that you love him?”

You kind of giggle at that, hearing it back. “No, I didn’t tell him I love him. I just said ‘love you’ to him.”

You think you hear Ghost snort at that. “Are we done here?”

“Well, no…”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to open your door.”

Ghost doesn’t speak. You look around the hall to make sure none of the guys would see you.

“Please?”

The call ends. Ghost slowly opens his door and peers at you from the small open space.

You look up at him, messy hair and mascara smudged under your eyes. Your hoodie covered most of your outfit and you were barefoot.

“You look ridiculous.”

“Can I come in?” You ignore his comment.

Ghost hesitates but he does step aside and let you into his room.

It was so dark in his room that you almost didn’t notice that he was maskless. Too bad you couldn’t see him better.

You didn’t really know what you planned on doing now that you were in his room… You honestly didn’t think he’d let you get this far.

Ghost’s hand touched your face. His thumb wiped under your eyes, attempting to fix your makeup.

The gesture was considerate though you knew he was just making the smudge bigger.

“I can’t kiss you.” Ghost repeated his words from earlier, but this time it was softer. More gentle.

You shook your head.

“We don’t have to kiss.”

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: You once again found yourself face-to-face with Eddie not even twenty-four hours after he checked into the motel, and your interactions left you with more questions than answers. (3.8k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, grumpy Eddie, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter two: here today

Bzzzzzz!

Your alarm clock blared its tinny ring at 1 PM. The sun was bright, a welcome change from yesterday’s overcast skies and steady rainfall.

You stretched as you awoke before shedding your oversized shirt and shorts, padding over to the shower and waiting a full five minutes for the cold water to turn lukewarm. The thinning bar of soap formed sad suds in your palm, and you lathered your skin as best as you could.

Despite your best efforts, you kept thinking about your encounter last night—that morning, really—with Eddie Munson. There was a cocky edge to him, evident by his initial refusal to put out his joint, but at least a shred of humanity; after all, he did eventually comply. There was even a semblance of…something that’d you’d shared in your brief interaction.

Or maybe it was just your imagination, the summation of your exhaustion and his high.

The towel scratched as you dried the water droplets from your bare skin, and though the cloth dampened, you could have sworn that it wasn’t wicking any moisture. Dad had been saying for years that he’ll invest in new linens “as soon as business picks up.” But business never picked up enough to do anything more than barely break even for the year, so the ancient towels stayed.

Picking the lint off of your purple T-shirt, you tucked it into your jeans and shoved your feet into your sneakers without bothering to unlace them first. One look in the mirror determined that you definitely needed makeup to look half-decent, or at least awake. There was no earthly way you would sacrifice a minute of precious sleep, so you swiped on some mascara in favor of an intricate routine and quickly fixed your hair. 

You plucked a granola bar from the stash on your dresser: your usual breakfast, tossed into your backpack as you headed out the door towards the lobby. The bus would be arriving in about five minutes, giving you just enough time to get to the stop before the doors closed. Barring any traffic, it followed a consistent schedule; one of the few certainties in life. 

“Hi Dad; bye Dad,” you called out, stopping in your tracks when you saw an obviously irritated Eddie standing in front of the desk, his arms crossed over his chest and his foot anxiously tapping. At least he was fully dressed this time, clad in a faded band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and the same denim jacket he was wearing last night when he’d first walked in. “Everything okay?” 

Dad motioned to Eddie. “Our guest is having some issues with his TV,” he said, his raised eyebrows indicating that the guest was being quite persistent about the matter. “Can you help him?” Before you could answer, he looked at Eddie and explained, “my daughter’s better with this technology stuff than I am.”

There was a temptation to argue that it was probably just a matter of smacking the side or replacing the remote batteries, but you didn’t have time to waste. “Yeah, sure,” you relented, turning to Eddie and waving him over. “Come on.”

Eddie waited to speak until the two of you were completely alone. “That was your dad?” 

You nodded, shoving your hands in your pockets and keeping your walking pace until you reached his room. 

“So what’s the problem?” you asked as he turned the key in the lock. It stuck for a moment before it fully unlatched, and he opened the door with a shove.

“The reception’s shit,” Eddie muttered, keeping his fingers splayed on the door so you could walk in first. “Every time I try to put on MTV, it’s all static. Tried it last night, too, but I figured it was because of the storm.” He gestured to the now-sunny skies. “But that shouldn’t be affecting it anymore.”

You offered a wry smile, the way you always did when delivering bad news to a guest. “Nothing’s wrong with the reception,” you explained, “there’s just no cable.”

“What?” His brows shot up in disbelief. “How is that even possible?”

“It’s simple.” You shrugged. “Cable costs money, we don’t have money; ergo, no cable.”

Eddie raked a hand through his messy curls. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” His feet could have worn holes in the floor with the way he was pacing. “Where can I watch MTV around here? Like, is there a bar or something?”

“Yeah, I mean, there’s one right down the—” You turned to the window but stopped mid-sentence, your stomach sinking as you watched your bus fly past. You heaved a dejected sigh as tears prickled at your eyes embarrassingly, and you blinked them away. 

It’s okay; I haven’t been late at all this semester, you silently reminded yourself. You could take one of the dollar cabs that runs up and down Jamaica Avenue. It wouldn’t get you exactly where you needed to go, but it would be close enough.

Eddie remained oblivious to your inner turmoil, eyes trained on the TV. “Fuck,” he grumbled, sucking through his teeth. 

“The clock radio plays music,” you offered as you hiked your backpack higher up on your shoulder. “I know it’s not the same as watching videos, but–”

“It’s not about the stupid videos!” he snapped, curling his palm into a tight fist and biting down on his forefinger knuckle. Dark eyes exuded distress, and you couldn’t help but think that his sheer panic mismatched the problem’s minimal severity.

You recoiled at his sudden outburst and took an instinctive step back. He noticed this, his expression instantly softening. His hand unfurled and fell to his side. 

“Shit, I–”

“I’m gonna be late to class.” You composed yourself, straightening your posture and forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “But the bar is right on 144th and 89th.”

He sputtered as he searched for the right words to apologize and explain himself. If you had time, you’d wait for him to unscramble his thoughts, but you were already behind schedule now that your bus was long gone.

You strode across campus like you were on a mission, feet flying over the pavement. The cab had left you at another bus stop closer to school, and that bus had thankfully arrived on schedule. At this rate, you would only be ten minutes late to class. 

Sweat trickled down your back from midday sun’s warmth and your fast pace, but you kept walking until you reached the lecture hall’s double doors. This class was a smaller one, only twenty or so students, so there was no sneaking in unnoticed. 

You shot your professor an apologetic look that she accepted with a polite nod, sliding into your usual seat next to your friend Nora. 

“Is everything okay?” Nora whispered, moving her own bag from the chair. The concern on her face was palpable; if you weren’t able to make it to class, you would have called her. 

“Yeah, just stuff at the motel going haywire as usual,” you reassured her with a small smile, digging out your notebook and a pen. You flipped to the first blank page and scribbled today’s date next to the right-hand margin. “What did I miss?”

Nora shook her head as if to say, nothing. “She just gave back last week’s homework. I grabbed yours, too.” She handed you a sheet of paper with a bright red A+ on top. “I figured if something had happened to you, you could be buried with your most recent perfect paper.” 

She winked, and you rolled your eyes to mask your burgeoning pride. 

Truthfully, you’d worked hard on the assignment. You might have already been accepted to graduate school, but NYU’s prestige didn’t come without a hefty price tag, and you still needed to apply for scholarships in order to afford it. 

Now was not the time to slack. 

You tried to pay attention to the lecture, but your mind constantly drifted to the way Eddie had behaved in his room, having a meltdown like an overtired toddler. The man who had lost his temper over a television channel was starkly different from the one who had readily swapped playful jabs with you the night prior. 

Maybe whatever buzz he’d managed to acquire before you’d interrupted him had made him uncharacteristically pleasant, and today’s outburst was indicative of his true self. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and willed yourself to focus on the case study being presented on the board rather than your own personal Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. 

Try as you might, you couldn’t shake the mystery that was Eddie Munson. Guests had had their choice words with you before—there was a reason why you had pepper spray at the ready—but this felt different. When most guests screamed like he had, they were specifically angry at you; it was the reaction you had expected when you’d told Eddie that he couldn’t smoke pot in the motel. Others simply were not in their right minds and didn’t realize that they were shouting at a random woman and not their mom or childhood bully or the monster under the bed. 

Eddie differed from both categories in that he’d recognized his mistake. That he was frustrated at the situation, not at you. That he had started an apology that he might have finished If you had stuck around.

Or maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe he would have continued yelling, face growing red with rage. Maybe he would have stopped his tantrum but stormed out to the bar without a second thought. 

You looked down at your notebook page, still blank except for the date. 

Maybe you should stop playing this game of what-ifs and actually listen to the lecture. 

After your professor handed out the rubric for the final paper and dismissed the class, you and Nora made a beeline for the food cart outside the building. Dining hall food was too expensive and bland; besides, Niko knew both of your orders by heart. 

He greeted you with a chipper smile as soon as you approached the cart. Bacon sizzled in its own fat, drowned out only by the sound of the chopper scraping against stainless steel as Niko scrambled the eggs.  

“Better enjoy this nice weather while it lasts,” he said, fuzzy gray brows pinching together. He grabbed two styrofoam cups from a stack and filled them with coffee. “Temperature’s s’posed to skyrocket this summer.”

You grimaced, pulling a few bills from your backpack’s front pouch. “If food service doesn’t work out for you, Niko, you should look into meteorology.”

He brushed off your sarcasm and adjusted his apron over his protruding belly. He added cream and sugar to the coffees and slid them towards you. “Been doin’ this a long time,” he said, gesturing to the food cart set-up. He took your four singles and handed you back two quarters, doing the same for Nora. “Longer than you two’ve been alive. And some things never change: you kids always have somethin’ smart to say.” 

Your mouth watered as he toasted the rolls and added a slice of American cheese to yours before combining the ingredients into hearty sandwiches. He carefully wrapped them in tinfoil and handed them over. 

You smiled, uncovered the sandwich, and took a hearty bite. Melty cheese oozed out from the roll and clung to your lip, and you collected it with the tip of your tongue. “At least we’re consistent,” you teased, waving goodbye as you and Nora walked to the bus stop. 

“What went down at the motel today?” Nora asked, chewing her food as she spoke. “I mean, I’ve seen you get to class early during a blizzard,” she added with a knowing grin. 

You remembered that day, February winds whipping around you and cutting through your layers of clothes like a knife. The snow stung your nose and cheeks and made it nearly impossible to see three feet ahead of you, but you’d made it to class before the professor had even arrived.

“Nothing really,” you tried to say nonchalantly, taking another bite of sandwich to keep your mouth busy. You don’t want to think about the way Eddie had raised his voice at you this afternoon; more specifically, the shame that tugged at you for being disappointed. You’d had one decent interaction with him and you’d foolishly assumed some kind of mutual respect had been built, but it all boiled down to the basics: he was a guest at the motel who would be checking out on Friday, and then you’d never see him again.

Nora wrinkled her nose, not quite believing you, but any further interrogation was interrupted by the bus squeaking to a stop. You dropped the five quarters into the tray before squeezing your way through the aisle.

“Just…” Nora dropped her voice to avoid drawing the ire of your fellow commuters, grabbing onto a pole to steady herself, “you didn’t need to break out the pepper spray or anything, right?” 

You gave her a grateful smile. “Nothing like that. I promise.”

“Good.” She reached over and gave your hand a small squeeze, careful not to brush up against anyone else. “Because I need my study buddy in one piece.” 

“I’m fi—” The bus lurched forward suddenly, the driver slamming on the brakes just as the yellow light turned red. You tightened your grip on the pole and planted your feet into the floor to keep your balance until coming to a complete stop. The other passengers grumbled and groaned as they shifted, leaving trails of mumbled sorry’s in their wake.

The Metropolitan Transit Authority would likely cause your demise well before any motel guest could get to you.  

It was barely after six PM when you got back to the motel. The sun began to creep down from its pedestal into purpling clouds and teased dusk’s beginning. Horns honked as rush hour traffic dragged along the expressway as though their cacophony would make the other cars evaporate into thin air. 

You had about four hours before your shift started; it was just enough time to work on the paper, take a quick nap, and boil water in your electric kettle to make some Cup Noodles. 

“Hey.”

You looked up to see Eddie leaning against the wall, a cigarette burning between his pointer and middle finger. It was freshly lit, but he still extinguished it under his foot before stepping closer to you. His brown eyes flickered from the ground to your face and back down again. 

“Hi.” Short but polite, your customer-service smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. You could see Mom through the glass door, leafing through paperwork that was almost certainly a stack of past-due bills. 

Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets, scuffing one Reeboked heel against the pavement. “I went to that bar you told me about.” He said it all in one breath as though he expected you to take off running. 

“Oh.” One corner of your mouth quirked up in a hesitant half-smile. “Did you, um, did you get to watch your show?”

He nodded, a forlorn look clouding his eyes. His right incisor dug into his lower lip. “Yeah. Thanks.” He paused, and you started for the door once again before he spoke up. “Sorry, I—you said you had a class today?” he asked, clumsily tripping over his words.

There was no sense in lying; not with your backpack hooked over your shoulders. “Mhm.” 

“Were you…” His tongue swiped nervously over his lips. “Did I make you late?”

You shook your head. “I got a dollar cab.” Not quite a lie, just omitting the truth. At this point, you were willing to let him smoke weed again if it’d result in easy conversation.

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek, head tilted slightly as he assessed your response. He seemingly accepted it at face value, exhaling a quiet, “that’s good,” and fumbling in his pocket for another cigarette. 

You took that as your cue to leave and ducked into the lobby to greet your mom with a quick wave. She returned it with a weary smile, eyes creased at the corners. The soft lines etched into her forehead had deepened over the past few months. The Reagan-Bush trickle-down economy era might have come to an end, but its remnants still affected small businesses and the even smaller people running them.

“How was class?”

“Good.” 

The usual exchange, no real information revealed. The mother-daughter song-and-dance performance of the ages. As long as neither of you disrupted the routine, the music played on.

Ten PM rolled around too quickly, and you plodded into the lobby with a stomach full of sodium-drenched noodles and your tote bag full of books. A street light flickered outside, more off than on, illuminating the sidewalk in a hazy glow every so often.

Mom handed over the register keys and placed a kiss on your cheek before she left to go to bed in the room she shared with Dad. Nighttime was the only time they got to be together uninterrupted, and it was spent sleeping.

That wasn’t what you wanted. When–if–you found somebody to share your life with, you wanted to have conversations with topics besides financial upkeep. You wanted to talk about meaningless topics and make each other laugh. You wanted to lay with your head on their lap, gazing into their eyes and revering in the beautiful silence. Nothing forced or planned. Just being.

You positioned yourself behind the desk, spreading your supplies in front of you. You’d managed to draft the opening paragraph for your essay before sleepiness overtook you and you’d had to nap, and your goal tonight was to revise it to perfection. The upcoming weekend would be spent at the public library, nose deeply buried in every psychology book they owned while you outlined the body.

Red pen marked up your page, commas added and removed three times over. Arrows shifted sentence order, while some sentences were altogether crossed out with heavy lines.

It was perfect. It was all wrong. You loved it. You hated it.  

Maybe I should scrap it altogether and start over. 

Your palm pressed to the notebook page, ready to tear it out and crumple it into a ball with jagged edges that would dig into your skin. 

“Hey.”

In your intense focus, you hadn’t even heard anyone walk in. A rookie mistake; somebody could have snuck up on you and you’d be none the wiser.

Eddie stood there, a folded one-dollar peering out from between his thumb and forefinger. He shuffled to the desk and held out the money, his eyes offering a silent apology. 

“I owe you for the, uh, cab,” he mumbled, lips forming a tight, nervous smile. “And don’t argue with me. I know my bullshit made you late, so…” He flitted his free hand as if dismissing potential concern.

You clicked your tongue in mock disapproval. “You’re not from New York City, are you?”

Eddie shook his head with a laugh, fingers scratching at a stubbled patch along his cheek. “How’d ya know?”

“A New York man knows better than to tell a New York woman not to argue with him,” you teased, capping your pen. “Also, you tried starting a conversation with me earlier, and any New Yorker knows that’s a cardinal sin.”

“Having a conversation?” 

“Making small talk with a stranger.”

His nose crinkled in adorable bewilderment as though the thought never occurred to him. “We’re not strangers. We met last night.”

The innocence of his remark drew a genuine laugh out of you. “I see the same people on the bus every day,” you told him, “and they’re still strangers. Being more than mildly aware of someone's existence doesn’t mean I know them.”

“Fair point,” Eddie conceded, leaning in slightly, “but I’d argue that we know each other’s names, so we’re not total strangers.”

Humming your acknowledgment–but not necessarily agreement–you plucked the dollar from his grasp and tucked it into your back pocket. “I’ll put this towards your bill.” 

“Oh, yeah. About that.” Eddie cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Are there any pawn shops around here that’ll buy a guitar?”

“No, sorry.” There had been one down the street but it had already been shuttered for a few years. Guests would go there all the time to hock whatever they could to pay for another night at the motel.   

He let out a long, disappointed sigh. “Shit. Okay.” The playfulness behind his eyes faded. “Um, thanks anyway.”

He turned away from the desk, shoulders slumped. You knew that look all too well; it was the stance of someone who just needed life to cut them a break.

“Eddie?”

He swiveled back around, his curls a half-second behind. “Yeah?”

“Do you know how to re-wallpaper a room?”

“Huh?” Your question caught him by surprise, and he took a moment to collect himself. “I mean, yeah, kind of. I did it for my uncle’s trailer once. But I’m not, like, a professional.”

You smiled. “No professional experience necessary.” You gestured to the various spots on the wall where the paper was cracked and peeled. “If you can make this look presentable, you can stay a few more days. Free of charge.”

His expression immediately darkened, eyes narrowing and crossed arms closing off his body. “I don’t need charity,” he asserted through a tensed jaw.

“It’s not charity; it’s a favor.” The harsh reaction caught you off-guard, but you refused to let him unsettle you again. “Look around: do you really think we can afford to hire someone to install new wallpaper?” 

You didn’t bother to wait for his response before continuing. “We need to fix this place up, and you need a roof over your head.” Shrugging casually, you held onto the hope that he would also view this as a mutually beneficial offer and not a pity handout.

Eddie just scoffed, a rejection in itself, compounded with a growling reprise: “I said, I don’t need charity.” 

Spikes jutted out from his words and pinched your skin, each one a reminder of your uncanny ability to worsen every problem you tried to solve. 

Offering a job to someone you barely knew? He gave you a buck to pay for the cab you only had to take because of him—not exactly the best character statement. The man could be a serial killer who preys on low-budget motel owners and you’d be none the wiser, signing his checks like you weren’t his next victim. 

Maybe next week, you could hire Ted Bundy to change bed linens. 

“Understood.”

He looked at you so intensely his pupils should have bored a hole right through you. Behind his eyes wasn’t an ounce of hate or even anger. 

It was raw shame. 

I’m sorry got caught in your throat and didn’t reach your tongue until he had disappeared back down the hall, out of sight. 

--

taglist:

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98 @squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @chrissymjstan @loves0phelia @kthomps914 @aysheashea @reidsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock @ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @bewitchedmunson @foreveranexpatsposts @mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank @sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl @fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

[miniwheat77]

Shakin’ (Ghost x Reader.)

!I aged Simon up a bit for this chapter. He’s around 44. Smut, unprotected p in v sex, (wrap it up-_-) military talk, teasing, you know the drill babes, absolutely NO MINORS, enjoy!

(Bc I bet Simon totally listened to Eddie Money when he was a teen XD. Obvi my song inspo is Shakin’ by Eddie Money.)

At this point, everything he did was routine. 141 had Simon busy most of the time so he didn’t spend too much time off base anymore. He had nothing better to do, the most exciting thing he did was stop by a bar with Johnny and Price. That was it. A round of new recruits were coming and this was always the hardest part, getting used to the newbies. Because some of them were insufferable. Ghost liked to be left alone. But the new recruits were always all over him. Trying to make friends and be nice and ask for advice which he didn’t mind, not at all. But sometimes he’d just want to be left alone.

For some reason, there weren’t many women on base. Aside from a couple that didn’t work out for… inappropriate reasons. There was no one but Laswell around.

“Ghost.” The scot accent pierces his ears and he turns to see Soap approaching with a girl by his side. “This is Y/N. She’s one of the new recruits.” He tilts his head to you. Ghost nods his head. “Hi.” You send a small wave his way. “Hey.” He says. “See, he doesn’t bite.” Soap laughs. “No, but I might.” You smile. Your sly smile pierces Simon right to his core, a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. As you walked away with Johnny, he wondered what the hell that was.

He didn’t know it, but it was the start of something special.

You settle in pretty quickly and Ghost sees how well you and Johnny get along together. He sees the both of you together quite often. Ghost worried about him catching feelings for you, and having you turn out to be like every other girl that’s come onto this base. A barracks bunny.

His worries all came to an end when he watched you resist every guy on base. Seriously, they’ll hit on you while you’re sitting across from the both of them and you’ll have to spin around and tell them to piss off.

You’re usually eating, listening to something Soap is saying and someone will walk up behind you and start trying to flirt with you. He can see the immediate anger on your face, wanting to be left alone.

Something Ghost didn’t expect is the both of you to start spending time together. Without Johnny around. You were a productive soldier. Always offering to help, always busy doing something around the base. You hardly ever complained about something and when you did it’s usually because you hurt in some kind of way. Which he understood all too well. You always offered to help him with anything he was doing. Jumping right up when he was going to do some heavy lifting. So the two of you started hanging out and doing those things together like it was second nature. A routine. Ghost started catching feelings for you pretty quickly and he tried to avoid it.

Especially after he found out how young you were.

You followed him out to load up the Humvee, and you spoke about your parents. Something about the age of your mum made Simon perk up. “Wait. How old are you?” He asks. You smile. “Why you want to know?” You smirk. “Because it sounds like your mum is about the same age as me and that means you’re really young.” He freezes up. “Yeah, I’m 21.” His eyes widen. “Jesus Christ. You do not look that young. You’re really mature for your age.” He mumbles, tossing a box into the back of the Humvee. He hears you chuckle. “Yeah, I get that a lot. But.. age doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you.” The slyness of your words have the hair on his neck standing up. “Yeah right, I’m old enough to be your dad.” He rolls his eyes.

You set a box down, only maybe a foot away from him. “Doesn’t scare me.” You smile. Stepping away from him. What exactly did you mean by that? Were you… flirting with him?

—

“Rosanna’s daddy had a car she loved to drive.” You mumble out the lyrics as you pass by Ghost. You don’t see him yet but he’s there. As soon as those lyrics hit his ears, he smiles. Reminding him of when he was a teenager, being crazy. Something he didn’t seem to think about too often anymore. “Stole the keys one night and took me for a ride.”

“Fuck.” You mutter as the box splits open, the contents of it falling out the bottom. Ghost steps out of the darkness. “What you singing there sweetheart?”

You jump when you hear him behind. “Jesus Christ.” You breathe. Tugging an earbud out of one of your ears. “Gave me a heart attack.” You laugh. Theres something inside of him brewing. Looking at you now, he knows there’s no going back.

He can only pray Johnny has no feelings for you, because there’s no going back. “Price told me to get you and check out some surrounding areas. Take the Humvee.” He nods. “Really?” You ask. He nods his head, lying through his teeth. What Price doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

He could still hear your music through your earbuds.

“Turned up the music just as loud as it could go, blew out the speakers in her daddy’s radio. She was shakin’” he smiles. “Eddie Money ah?” He asks. Hearing you laugh.

“Of course.”

“Snappin her fingers, she was movin’ round and round. That girl was shakin’”

“Come on, let’s go.” He helps you put everything back into the box, telling you to worry about it later. When you get inside the Humvee, he snags one of the earbuds from you. Sliding it into his ear. He pulls out of the garage. He could get in so much trouble over this, but can’t remember the last time he’s done something this crazy. You haven’t done anything and you’ve already lit a fire inside of him.

“We started drinkin’ wasn’t thinking too straight. She was doing 80 and she slammed on the breaks. Got so high we had to pull to the side. We did some shakin’ til the middle of the night.”

He reaches his hand across the middle, resting it on your thigh. You tense up immediately, turning to look at him. “Ghost.. what are you doing?” You ask. His hand glides further up, and he hears you gasp. “Simon-“ you laugh.

“Shakin’, snappin’ her fingers. She was up and down and round and round. Shakin’”

“Cmere baby, sit in my lap.” He forces you over onto him, facing the steering wheel. You can feel his bulge against your ass. You twist around in his lap. Straddling him and keeping your face tucked into his neck so that he can see. He groans as you start attacking his neck. Sucking and biting at his skin. “Fuck.” He mutters under his breath. “Drive me fucking crazy.” He hisses.

“I got a little nervous. She took her coat off. She looked so pretty, ah yeah.”

He takes in a deep breath as you reach for his cargo pants. “Focus on the road. Don’t kill us.” You laugh. “Fuck- doing my best.” He laughs. You unzip his pants, tugging his cock through the hole in his boxers until you could see it. Taking a deep breath. You wiggle your own cargo pants down, off of one leg, freeing up your hips, you straddle him.

“I’m always talkin’ baby, talkin’ too much. I love that little girl and I just can’t get enough. It takes a lonely night with nowhere to go, just call Rosanna and it’s a hell of a show.

And she’s shakin’”

A hiss leaves his lips as he grips your hips with his rough hands. You swallow him up, sliding down onto him. He’s driving fast, way faster than he should. But he’s so fired up from you, he can’t help it. It’s fucking thrilling. Your skin is soft compared to his calloused hands. He grits his teeth, muscles tightening in his body as you slide down around him. Clutching onto him like a glove. The music is loud, nearly hurting your ears as you rock your hips into him. “Fuck- fucking hell you’re a minx.” Simon grits his teeth harder, gripping onto you and rocking his hips up to meet yours. He presses his foot into the gas harder, thanking whatever god is out there that this road is empty.

The pleasure is white hot, wrapping around the base of his spine and working its way up. You make him feel young again, like a crazy teenager. You attack his neck, you’re loud and you can’t help it as you ride him, raising yourself up onto him and moving back down. Riding him like your life depends on it. Chasing after that high. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, crying out. You gasp out when he slams onto the breaks, pulling over onto the side of the road. He forces you to look at him after he throws it into park. He grips your hips tightly, thrusting up into you. “Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.” He growls. He grasps the bottom of his balaclava, tugging it over his head. He grips your chin, pulling you in to kiss him. You’re whining as he fucks up into you.

The windows are starting to fog up, your bodies are sweaty as they move against each other. He feels hot, fully dressed. Feelings just how hot the two of you have made it in the car. The fat of your hips clutched hard between his massive hands. Making you feel small as he fills you up. You stare him in the eyes, keeping eye contact. You smile, making him narrow his eyes. “What?” He asks. “Do I intimidate you Simon?” You smile. He shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”

“You seemed intimidated by me flirting with you.” You wrap your arms around his neck, rocking into him. He’s panting almost. “Just not used to it. Usually it’s the other way around. I’m supposed to intimidate you.” He laughs. Clutching onto the seat of the Humvee. “Fuck- you’re getting me close sweetheart.” He grits his teeth. “Me too.” You breathe, adjusting yourself one last time. He tilts his head back against the seat and you lean in, biting down on his throat, feeling his pulse against your tongue. His breaths pick up. He’s getting close, you can tell. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you tight. Thrusting up into you. “Fuck- fuck baby. I’m gonna cum.” He gasps. His eyes roll back and his lips part. He gasps, hips jerking up into you. Your eyes narrow shut, closing tight. That knot forming in your belly. The warmth of him sends you over the edge, crying out into the crook of his neck. He holds you tight to him like you’ll fall apart if he lets go.

Your thighs shake as he adjusts you in his lap. “You did so good.” He breathes. “Such a good girl for me.” He breathes. He hears you laugh into him. “Fuck. We’re gonna be in so much trouble when we get back.” You mumble against him. “Yeah, probably.”

“One more, make it worth our while?” He smirks. You glide your tongue over your bottom lip. “Let me restart the song.” You giggle.

[leosxrealm]

ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ ꜰᴛ. ʀɪɴ ɪᴛᴏꜱʜɪ ᴀɴᴅ ʜʏᴏᴍᴀ ᴄʜɪɢɪʀɪ

pairing(s): Rin Itoshi x reader, Hyoma Chigiri x reader

warning(s): fluff, jealous rin? jealous rin! nothing in chigiri’s part

a/n: i wrote this with male! reader in mind but no pronouns were used so it can be read as gn! reader. also tall! reader

Rin Itoshi

"Rinnnieee," you whined out his name, "i'm sorry Rinnie." all you heard from the boy in front of you was a scoff. "go away. your boyfriend must be missing you," he grumbled. you pouted at his words. during lunch, your seatmate had dragged you with him to finish the chemistry project that was due earlier today. he was a bit of a worrywart who wanted to make sure everything was perfect. anything low would not be tolerated. and now your actual boyfriend was being petty because he lost a whole 28 minutes with you. 28 minutes that you could have spent with him! it was honestly adorable seeing your boyfriend get jealous over some random dude from school. you would never admit that though; because you know that Rin wouldn't talk to you for a whole week after that or a month. yeah, your boyfriend was petty like that. and now on the walk home, he was walking ahead of you, ignoring your whole being. you tugged on the strap of his backpack, pulling him back. hugging him from behind, you pulled him as closer to you as possible. resting you head on top of his, you mumbled, "i'll make it up to you, yeah? how about we go to my house and watch your favorite movies? we can cuddle and then i'll make you ochazuke and you can stay the night? hm? how does that sound?" you asked, still nuzzling your face into his hair. he quickly looked around, before escaping from your grip. "okay okay. let's go already," he had already started walking towards your house, not even looking back to see if you were coming or not. you know your boyfriend hates pda, and normally you respect his wishes, but you couldn't just let him ignore you like that anymore. you deserve some attention too alright! he may not have stopped for you, but he didn't miss the happy "okay" you shouted before running up to catch up with him.

Hyoma Chigiri

it was friday, a day you both loved and (kinda) hated. it was your weekly skincare night, a concept your lovely boyfriend had introduced you to. you loved spending time with your boyfriend but you also thought doing thousands of things to keep your skin healthy was a hassle. you had never learned to take care of your body or your face like that. when Hyoma found out you washed your face with a bar of soap, he gave you the stinkiest side eye you had ever received. ever since then, he would force you to do skincare with him. you didn’t really think it was necessary; you were doing just fine before this, weren't you? but it quickly became something the two of you bonded over. you even found yourself looking forward to it. you were applying the green paste, with a weird smell, on Hyoma's face. he was perched up on the bathroom counter, with you standing in between his legs. after carefully applying the mask, making sure it didn’t go into his eyes or in his hair, you nodded at your work. you passed the container to Hyoma, for him to apply it to your face now. he scooped out a decent amount and started applying it to your face with his fingers, evenly smoothing it out. you started to lean into his hand, when he pulled your ear with his clean hand to make you stop leaning. "stand straight, will you?" he asked you with slight irritation in his voice. after a few seconds, he booped your nose softly, indicating that he had finished applying the mask to your face. you leaned in, giving him a quick peck on the lips, your green clay mask-covered noses bumping together. he pushed you away gently, "it's just there for 20 minutes, alright?" you looked up at him with a soft frown on your face. he just wanted to pinch your cheeks, you looked so adorable, with a bright baby blue headband pushing your hair back, and a green paste covering your face. "if you don't ruin the mask, i'll give you kisses as reward, okay?" he tried to bargain with you. you give a happy nod before hooking your hands under his thighs to lift him up. he instinctively wrapped his legs around your waist, as you carried him to the living room to re-watch your favorite series, closing the bathroom light on the way.

[no-one-anon]

So this is my second ever, and little fanfic? Blog? I think you know what I mean- So if it's really crap, don't come at me pls

SN: did this at 1 in the morning so ignore all grammar mistakes -

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Team force 141 + Valeria w/ reader who has lots of pillows on their bed. E.g. six, seven, eight - just A LOT.

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Simon Ghost Riley:

Ghost was injured. Very injured. So when you all landed back onto base you rushed into the base with Ghost leaning on your shoulder. You knew that your room was closer to where you both currently were, and that you also had a med kit somewhere in your room.

So, that made you rush in the direction of your room instead of the medbay. Now, ghost was disoriented. So disoriented that he didn't seem to know where he was being lead to. He had only noticed where we was when you had plopped him onto your bed. Right on-top of something squishy.

What he had landed on, was a soft pillow. Multiple pillows. They were quite soft, but there were so many. He would have to use two hands to count the amount of pillows.

When you had found the medkit in the corner of your room. You hurried back to where Ghost was sitting. He was bleeding out on your bed. On your pillows. Your abundance of pillows.

So, of course he had to ask about your mountain of pillows. While you were patching him up, of course. He asked you. "Why do you have so many pillows?" It was so sudden you had to take a moment. "Oh, uh. I just.. like them. They give me comfort and I just like them overall."

He just gave you a look that you couldn't decipher. But, expect to see a couple of pillows at your door every now and then.

John Soap Mactavish:

Soap woke up. In your bed. Yes, in your bed. The reason? He drank too much. Way too much. He was so drunk that you had to drag his body from the bar, all the way to base.

Now, his first thought was. Why is my bed so squishy? Obviously his question was immediately answered when he gained consciousness and opened his eyes. The sunlight was attacking him from behind the thin curtains. Soap tried to stop the attack from the sun, but it was no use.

He was already awake and awoke in a room he doesn't know of. He shot up, a wave of nausea hitting him like how the sun had done not long ago.

"Where the hell am I? What the fuck...." Soap groaned. He didn't drink that much....... Did he?- The door opened, quietly. Moving his attention from the wall to the opening door.

He saw, you. Holding a glass of water and a pill bottle. "Oh, I hope I didn't wake you up." You softly spoke. "You didn't, where are we?" Soap asked curiously.

"My room, you were too drunk to be dragged to your own room." Oh. Well, made sense. He did drink a bit too much.... "Why do you uh.. have so many pillows here?" Picking one up Soap asked.

You replied, snatching a pillow from the bed. "Oh! They bring me joy, I like them. Some as presents form my family and friends, some I just bought that were soft or cute."

"This one's cute." Soap says while picking up a small brown dog. "Oh, you can keep it if you'd like, I have too many. Plus, I don't think anyone gave me it, must've been one that I bought a bit ago."

"Sweet! Thanks!" He was quite happy, even thought he had a throbbing headache. At least his hangover wasn't so bad now that he has a soft and squishy buddy with him.

Captain John Price:

John was checking up on everyone late at night after a mission. As some people were injured severely on the mission. So, when he made it to your room. He noticed that there was light peeling out from underneath your door. You know what happened to that cat about curiousity.

So, John bit the bullet and opened the door quietly. Only to find you on your bed, sprawled out like a starfish. Your hair was everywhere. All over the pillow where you head was resting on, and on your face. You were lightly snoring and you had left your bedside lamp on. With the way you were positioned on the bed, your pillows were bunching up and creating small hills.

You looked like you were having the best sleep of your entire life. Sleeping away without a worry about the world and its problems. But, of course. Not all good things last forever. He had to wake you up. You had to change into your pajamas. Price would never forgive you and himself if you slept in your gear.

So, he shook you awake. Lightly, of course. "Hey, you gotta get up." Your response was just a groan and turning to your side.... Back facing him... Price sighed.

"Hey, wakey wakey. You gotta get changed.." This earned another groan from you and you sitting up. "Why'd you wake me up...." You whined.

"You gotta get changed, and why do you have so many pillows?" Price chuckled seeing as you were slightly cuddling a cute cat pillow. You groaned and yawned. Taking your time to answer his question. "I like pillows, they're cute and comfy. Don't you agree?" Holding up a pillow to his face.

Price chuckled. "Yeah yeah, kid. Time to get changed." You groaned once again.

Kyle Gaz Garrick:

You and gaz decided to have a movie night. In your room. So, when he arrived with the snacks. He laid down on your floor and started watching the movie. Paying no attention to anything else but the movie. It was one of his favorite movies after all.

When the movied had ended, Gaz was very sleepy. So sleepy, that he decided he was going to sleep on your bed. In your room. Even though his room was only 3 rooms over. But, oh well. It's late, you're both tired. Why not? Plus, nothing bad would happen.

Yeah. Nothing bad did happen. Except, something embarrassing did. You didn't have the time to put away all your pillows, since you didn't know that Gaz was going to be sleeping in your room. In your bed. So, when he walked over to your bed. All he saw was pillows. A mountain of pillows. On what should be your bed.

"Hey... Uh... Why are there so many pillows here?" Gaz started. "Oh, uh. Yeah.. that's my uh, collection of pillows." You replied. Nervous on how he would react.

"Oh, cool. Which one is your favourite?" Gaz questioned. "Oh, uh. This one is one of my favourites." You replied, holding up a small dog pillow.

"Cute, but why are there so many?..." You hadn't really noticed about how much you had, but now that you were looking at.. Your bed? "Well.. I admit I have a bit too much, but I like all of them."

How embarrassing.... "I'm too tired to deal with this." Gaz needed his beauty sleep. He'd deal with you and your obsession on the morning. Right now, he just wants to catch some z's.

Alejandro Vargas:

Alejandro looked for you all over base. He was bored and needed something to do. You weren't in the dining hall, nor in the medbay. So, he went to your room in hopes to find you.

When he reached your room, he could hear some humming from inside. Alejandro knocked and could hear a muffled 'Come in!' from the other side of the door. He opened the door to see you sitting next to your bed and cuddling a pillow while reading a book whilst some music played in the background.

He noticed that, around you. On the bed, and the ground. Was littered with pillows. All different shapes, sizes, colors, etc. How could someone have so many pillows? Jesus Christ. You had an obsession with so many things. He heard you humming along with the song, not even paying attention to who had opened the door and entered the room.

Alejandro decided to break the silence. "Hey. What are you doing?" All you did was look up from your book and respond with a simple sentence. "Reading, why?" Jesus Christ, you looked totally unfased with how many pillows there were.

"Why do you have so many goddamn pillows?" Alejandro asked. Oh.. You hadn't realized that all of your pillows were laid out on the bed and some had fell onto the floor. "Well, I like them. Some of them were gifts from some people, and some that I had just found." You said, as you grabbed another pillow that had fallen to the floor.

Alejandro hesitated for a moment. "Alright.... Well, would you like to hang out with me?" Well, it would be good for you to go out and stretch your legs rather than sitting on the floor and reading by yourself. "Sure, I don't see why not." You replied while getting up and brushing the non-existent dust from your knees.

Valeria Garza:

Valeria was walking by your room when she noticed you lounging about on your bed. You were cuddling a pillow and the rest of your pillows were surrounding you. There was at least ten. They were colorful, and looked soft. What were you even doing with this amount of pillows?

"What the hell? What are you doing?" Valeria said as she leaned on the door frame. "Huh? Me? Oh, I'm just reading, why?" You were confused on why Valeria was asking you.

"Well, you have so many of these pillows here. Why do you have so many? Did you steal these?" Valeria asked. "I like pillows, they bring me joy, and no. I did not steal these. Some of these are gifts that my friends and family gave me." You huffed out.

Well, you had to admit. You did have a bit more than what an average person would have... But, you couldn't throw out any of them! They were apart of you, and you loved every single one of them. You didn't know why Valeria had such a problem with your obsession with pillows. Was she jealous of them or something?

"Are you jealous of the pillows, or something?" To be sure you asked, duh. "No. I would never be jealous of an inanimate object. That's just stupid!" Well, Valeria was a bit too quick to shut that down..... Ah, oh well.

"But, do you like them? A lot?" Ah, she definitely was jealous of them. Well.. Maybe?- "Yes, I do like them. Quite a lot. If you don't like them you can just leave." You huffed out.

So, with that. Valeria left your room. But, expect to see some pillows to appear on your bed when you go out of your room to go shopping or what not. Or expect a knock on your door, and seeing a pillow on the floor when you open the door. Maybe also seeing Valeria speed walk around the corner.

[soapisahimbo]

NSFW ABC - John 'Soap' MacTavish Edition

Here he is, our bar of Soap! I felt like I needed to get this one done before I could put my focus on the request I got with a reader with a kid, which will hopefully get done soon! I also have ABC's for Gaz and Ghost planned, so stay tuned, friends!

Contains heavy smut elements, so minors stay away!

As always, I hope you enjoy, and please tell me what you think and what you'd like to see more of in the future!

warnings: senseless smut, soap is horny for reader, hinted at female reader/female anatomy, detailed, mentions anal play at one point

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

He holds you close and tight, practically refusing to let go until your hearts have stopped racing and your breaths have returned to somewhat normal. Once you breathe in a deep sigh, he'll loosen his grip and lean back to take a good look at you. He'll cup your cheek and ask you how you're feeling, if you need anything, if you enjoyed it, and plants several kisses all over your face before telling you he loves you and how good that was.

You'll take to caressing him and checking in on him as well, telling him how much you love it when he takes you like that, when he moves that way that you like, or when the two of you hold each other like this. He doesn't say it out loud, but he loves it when you cradle his head to your chest after a particularly steamy session. He wants to protect you, but you make him feel safe.

Once you've returned to your senses and you're starting to feel like people again, you get out of bed and into the shower, where you wash each other off. He insists that he can help himself and that you should let him focus on you, but you remind him that you want to, and he simply sighs before giving you a deep, loving kiss and turns to let you scrub him.

He can't go for long without teasing you however, pinching and groping and chuckling boyishly at your playful glares. Depending on how you let it play out and how much further you let his hands wander, he might have you up against the wall for another round.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Johnny's a confident man; he knows for a fact that he's good-looking, and he takes excellent care of himself, both hygiene and health-wise. Doesn't really favour one part of his body more than any other, although he'd be lying if he said he wasn't proud of his dick. He knows how to make good use of it, and he makes sure to. You almost hate to admit that his confidence is well-earned, and if you ever said it out loud, he'd never let you live it down. But if you had a specific body part of his that you were particularly fond of, for whatever reason, it'd automatically become his favourite as well.

He loves any and all of your weak spots - any point on your body that he can touch and kiss that will make you shiver and moan. He also has a incredibly deep and just pure fondness of your arms and hands simply because he loves being touched by you and having them wrapped around him in any situation, be it sexual, romantic, domestic or just in passing. You make him feel warm and strong when you hug him.

But he is also an unabashed ass-man. He makes sure to keep at least one hand on your hips at all times, or he slips a hand into your back pocket whenever he gets the chance. And he can't just give you a discreet little squeeze, no no; when he grabs you, he goes for the handful. Even more so during sex - likes to take you from behind solely so that he can get a nice view of your ass, and likes to bend you over surfaces just to kneel down behind you and grope and bite on your cheeks. He grins and calls it his natural instinct, you call it an unhealthy obsession. You can't bring yourself to stop him, though.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

He likes the idea of a quick and easy clean-up, but it rarely actually turns out that way. Using a condom helps a lot, but the desire to feel you, to taste you and to cum in you usually far outweighs any attempt of keeping the mess to a minimum. He can't deny that watching it leak out of you does something to him, and he'll more than happily indulge in it if he knows that you don't have any plans later in the day or in the morning, or if you're in the shower where it can easily be washed away. Despite his Catholic upbringing, this man is quite the devil - he's the type to finger his cum back into you and watch it drip down his fingers.

He likes cumming on your tummy and thighs a bit more than he'd like to admit, but he's quick to clean it off of you once he's admired it. As hot as he thinks it is, he doesn't want to leave it on you for too long because he knows that the sticky feeling isn't all that comfortable. Has to fight the urge to lick it up and kiss it into your mouth.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

He watched you spar with Ghost, and for some reason, it sent his mind down an odd path. It was specifically the way Ghost had you pinned on your back, his forearm pressing down on your chest and his hips between your thighs. While still in this position, he started to give you some pointers in how to take down someone his size, both of you sweating and breathing heavily. To you, this was just a training session as any other.

After you were done sparring, even days after, John couldn't get that image out of his head for some reason, and he couldn't figure out why. He'd watch the two of you spar several other times, and every time one of you managed to pin the other down, it garnered a strange sensation in his lower abdomen.

He had fucked you dumb after each session, and you thought it was because he found some sort of enjoyment in watching you wrestle - and he did, in part. But there was one specific time, when Ghost had you pinned once again, this time face down into the floor. He had one of your arms pinned to your back, the other above your head. You were bent over your own knees, with Ghost's chest pressing against your back, and Johnny could see how your hips nestled into his. This was just another sparring session - but to John, this was a wake up call.

He wanted to fuck you with Ghost. Or to take it even further; he wanted to watch Ghost fuck you.

He never shared this thought with either of you, but he'd find himself fantasizing about what you would look like nestled in between them - or pinned naked under his lieutenant - and the image has sent him over the edge far more than he'd like to admit.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

He's been popular with the ladies for a long time, and has definitely had a number of hook-ups and one night stands. He has always preferred to be with someone he has a deeper connection with, however, and would rather be with you for the rest of time.

He definitely knows what he's doing, but he doesn't take anything for granted. He's formidable, and wants to learn everything he can about the body of the person he's with; in this case you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

He has a number of favourites - doggy style, because he loves your ass, or prone, because he loves your ass. He also likes the way he seems to hit all the right spots to have you in absolute shambles underneath him. When in a more loving, intimate mood, he'll go for missionary, because he wants to look into your eyes and kiss you breathless. Might actually go for this one more often than any of the other positions for those very reasons; he's a lot softer than most people think, and he's weak for you. He feels like he's found his own personal piece of heaven when you wrap your arms and legs around him and would go on forever if he could.

If you push him down on the bed onto his back and straddle him, however, his mind is sure to go blank. He'll watch you with a gaze of pure reverence when you ride him, and touches you like you're a dream. If you want, you can give him the added bonus of watching your ass if you ride him in reverse, but he won't really have a preference when he gets to have you like this. This gives you the perfect position to boss him around a bit, too; if you tell him that he can't touch you and he needs to keep his hands above his head, he'll look at you like a kicked puppy, but will do his best to oblige if you promise to reward him. It won't be easy for him, though - he'll grip onto anything he can to stay in line, and has ripped a number of pillow sheets in his determination to stay good.

Once he's reached his limit however, he'll most likely grab you and pull you down until you're chest to chest, plant his feet into the mattress and fuck up into you like some kind of madman.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

Laughing with you is practically part of the act. He wants you to be relaxed and at ease when you're with him - no obligations, no judgment, just a carefree, wonderful time between lovers. He loves sex with you the most when you have a big smile on your face. You've had each other in absolute stitches several times - like when he stubbed his toe carrying you to the bedroom or when he smacked his head into the table after eating you out from under it. You also love sending him into fits of laughter when he's trying to focus. Dumb jokes, funny faces, tickling each other, blowing raspberries on each other's stomachs - you name it.

Keep messing with him, though, and he'll clamp a hand over your mouth and fuck you until you feel like you've gone brain-dead.

If he's in a more serious mood, it's usually because he simply wants to love you, or he's missed you. Still wants to see you smile, but in this case it's usually out of affection rather than some dumb joke.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

He keeps it very neat and trimmed, a bit like his mohawk. The individual hairs are a bit thin and wispy, but there's lots of it; it tends to get out of hand pretty quickly if he doesn't tidy it up regularly, so he usually comes homes from deployment with a bit of an untamed mess.

Has a fairly wide happy trail, starting at his bellybutton. Says it tickles if you run your fingers over, but his knees will positively turn to jelly if you trail kisses down along it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

Despite all his quips and jokes and prods and pokes, intimacy is incredibly important to him. He wants you close at all times, and he's in no way shy with his love and affection. He has a bit of a tendency to turn at the drop of a hat - one second he's railing you within an inch of your life, the next he has you wrapped up in his arms and is mumbling all sorts of praises and sweet nothings into your skin. He'll wax poetic about how much you mean to him, how much he loves you, that he doesn't know what he'd do without you and how much he wants to stay right there with you forever; "If I died right here, I'd be sure to die the happiest man to ever have lived."

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

When out on missions, he's usually cooped up somewhere with 141; more often than not Ghost. And the last thing he wants is to get caught jerking off by his lieutenant, or his fucking captain. He does try to sneak off whenever he gets the chance, but he's pretty sure that Ghost knows exactly what he did when he gets back. He's not exactly ashamed; he has urges, you know. But he can't help but feel a little bit awkward.

While on his own, though, and knowing that he's safe, he doesn't really hold any qualms with getting off. If he's got any sort of physical access to you, though, there's no way in hell he's jerking off - it's all yours, baby. How can he not give it to you?

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Do you want to be manhandled by him? Well, he wants to be manhandled by you too. He'll grow his mohawk out so that you'll have more to pull. Push him down, grab him by the throat and take what you want. Show him; guide his head and hands to where you want them the most. Tell him what you want and he'll give it to you. He wants to praise you and be praised by you, wants to mark you and be marked by you, wants there to be undeniable evidence that you're his and that he's yours.

He's not really interested in any specific roles between the two of you; there's no set power dynamic. It's more like an ebb and flow. Sure, he'll pin you against the wall or bend you over or fold you in half, not because he considers himself to be dominant and you submissive, but because that's where the flow takes him. He's highly attuned to what you want.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

Any surface he can bend you over is high on the list, because he's obsessed with groping your ass and spreading your cheeks to watch how his cock sinks into you. He loves the shower, because that's where he can get the messiest with you and easily wash it away. He also loves pressing his chest against your back to push you down and moaning into your ear because it satisfies that need of being close to you.

But that need is a strong one, and our Scot is quite the lover boy, so the bed, and to some degree the couch are where he wants to take you the most. It's where he can get the closest to you, and sink into the cushions and into you the best.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

John is an absolute sucker for touches and kisses, and he's particularly weak at the neck. Even if you don't intend to seduce him, even if you're leaving a tiny little peck at that spot underneath his ear just to be sweet, it sends him reeling. When you stand close, look into his eyes and run your hands over his chest, he feels like he's been set on fire. Stroke the skin on the ribs just under his pecs and you'll feel his heart racing. He'll never explicitly ask for it, but just touch him, please.

Anytime you dress up, you'll have to keep his hands off of you if you want to make it to whatever event you're heading out to. Tells you he just "wants to help", but the smirk gives it away every time. He pouts if you say no, but when you tell him that he can have you as much as he wants once you get home, he lights up like a kid on Christmas. He'll be impatient, though, but it's always worth it in the end.

He also gets a certain warm feeling inside from watching you and doing just the most domestic things with you. It gives him a sense of normality and safety in an otherwise not so normal and safe life, and sometimes it's just that alone that turns him on in a sweet sort of sense - knowing that he has time to spend with you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn,offs):

He will never humiliate you. The only words to ever come out of his mouth will be love and praise. He can be rough with you if you want and maybe wrap his hand firmly around your throat, but he'll never slap or choke you, and knifeplay and the like are a definite no-go; he deals enough with knives and guns and violence as it is, he doesn't need more of it in his private life.

Anything largely unhygienic is also off the list, anything leaning towards scat and stuff like that is NOT his thing.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

Oh, how he loves your mouth. When you talk, when you laugh, when you smile, when you kiss him and definitely when you take his cock in it. Any quips and taunts he might come up with will disappear from the tip of his tongue while you press yours to the underside of his dick and suck the soul out of him. The poor bastard can barely speak - his words come out in slurs, or break off in drawn out moans - and he can't figure out what to do with his hands, so they tend to flutter over your shoulders, your hair, into the sheets and the pillows. He eventually grabs whatever they happen to be near when he cums and holds onto it like it's his only lifeline. His abs tighten, his thighs shake, he moans out loudly and continuously, and he tries to get his breathing under control which does very little to help if you keep going.

As for you, pretty thing, you might as well add yourself to the top of the list of his favourite meals, because he sure acts like you are. There's very little stopping him once you give him the go, so you better buckle up. He's the type of guy to grind into the mattress or jerk off while going down on you, and he refuses to let you close your legs on him; keeps them spread wide apart and up against your chest so that you can't get away from him. Moans into you as if you're sucking him off, and he tries to maintain eye contact with you, but his eyes keep rolling back (so do yours, though).

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

It's very dependant on his mood, and can switch without warning mid-deed. He's slower and deeper when he's making love to you, faster and a bit sloppy when he's needy for you, rougher and wilder when he's frustrated or impatient or you've riled him up. To be honest, you can probably play that man like a fiddle, and have a number of tricks up your sleeve if there's a certain pace you want. You might not even have to use any of them though, he knows you just as well as you know him - maybe even better.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

Listen, he would much rather spend a day in bed with you to satisfy his need for closeness and intimacy, but sometimes there's just not enough time and he needs you, so he'll take whatever he can get. Whether it's bending you over the kitchen counter, or dragging you with him into a supply closet somewhere, whether you pull your pants down just enough to give him access to fuck you, or you get down on your knees to suck him off, he'll fucking take it. He'll want to return the favour, but if there's not enough time for that, he'll kiss you like a starved man and swear on his goddamn life that he'll make you feel good when he gets the chance to.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

He's not against experimenting, as long as it's safe, sane and consensual. He can sneak off with you in public places, and sneak a few gropes in when no one's watching, he can wrap himself around you on the dance floor and slip his hand down your pants, he can tie you up and edge you until you beg and he'll let you do the same to him - as long as you guys have set clear boundaries and make sure that nothing will get out of control.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

This man can clear an entire weekend just to have sex with you. Plenty of breaks, of course, but he'll go for as long as you let him. Can probably go a solid 2 extended rounds before needing a moment to recuperate, but if you're up for it, he's back on it after maybe a few minutes. The more rounds though, the shorter they'll be, but he makes sure to give it to you good.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

The idea wouldn't cross his mind until you either mention that you have a couple of trusty toys that you use while he's away, or he accidentally finds them. He, of course, won't be able to let this pass without teasing you about it, but his mind will instantly run wild with images of you. Naked and alone in bed, pleasuring yourself to the thought of him and calling out his name even though he's not there to hear you, and you can bet your sweet ass that he'll want to witness it. "Show me how you do it, bonnie, I wanna see."

He might ask you if he can take pictures or film you, or if you can film something for him when he's not there, but he won't press any further if you say no; he'll just pay extra close attention to really commit this to memory. Give him the chance to and he'll 100% make an absolute quivering and crying mess out of you.

If you suggest using them on him, he'll quirk his eyebrow at you at first, but he'll give it a go. Once you've made him cum all over himself, he's gonna want you to do it again and you can rest assured knowing that the two of you have just immensely upgraded your sex life.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

He's a tease for sure, leaning in to whisper about how he wants you to cum in his mouth, or how he wants to spread your legs right where you're standing and fuck you stupid for everyone (or a certain lieutenant) to see. He might edge you once or twice, but that's only to make your finish that much stronger. Other than that, he's not really the type to withhold your pleasure, but he loves having you all hot and bothered. Will have a massive shit-eating grin on his face if he can get you to blush and squirm.

It's not that hard to give him a taste of his own medicine though. If you whisper the naughtiest things you can think of with the sweetest voice you can muster, you'll be able to pinpoint the exact moment his brain shuts down.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

He's loud and talkative in all manner of ways, and it's quite the challenge for him to stay quiet. Covering his mouth, or even gagging him, will do little to shut him up, and while it might be the only solution you have, it only seems to egg him on. He moans into your mouth when you makeout while fucking, and if you clasp your hand tightly over his mouth and press his head into the pillow, it just turns him on more. If left to it, he will not stop blabbering, throwing out a bunch of variations of "fuck yes", "you feel so fucking good", "you're so fucking pretty", "i need you to cum for me", "please, baby, fuck, don't stop" and so on.

He's just as talkative when the two of you are having a more intimate session, but it'll be more of the lines of how much he loves you and wants you, how happy he is to have you - "I swear, I don't know what I'd do without you."

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

He had made jokes about it, and while you could tell that there was some underlying desire behind them, you didn't really read them as anything other than exactly that - jokes. So when you're laying on your stomach in bed, minding your own business, and he suddenly sneaks up on you to tug your pants down, you don't think of it as anything other than your lover just being his horny self. You laugh and lift your hips to aid in the removal, and sigh as he begins kissing and nibbling on your buttcheeks. You notice, however, that he's licking a bit further in between your cheeks than he usually does, and so you glance over your shoulder at him and ask him what he's doing.

He looks you dead in the eye, grabs a handful of both your cheeks and spreads them. Then he slowly and deliberately licks a circle around that tight ring before gently pushing the tip of his tongue against it. It's all you can do but watch as he slowly but surely works his tongue deeper in, and while it might feel a bit foreign at first, you can't help but sigh into the pillows and let him have his fun.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

He's a bit of a "grower, not a shower" - 5 inches soft, 6 inches hard. He's also a little bit on the thicker side, enough to give you a little bit of a stretch, but not so much that it feels uncomfortable in any way, and you don't need to spend forever to warm up for him (not like he's not generous with the "warm-up" anyways). He knows how to use what he's got and he knows you can't deny it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

He may not be some wild sex machine, he enjoys the quiet and loving moments just as much, but there's a part of him that is always ready for you. Know that he will probably want you in one way or another at all times, but as said before, he's highly attuned to you and he knows when to step back. But if you're the one initiating, he'll happily go along with it 9 out of 10 times.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

He wants the two of you to have cleaned up before knocking out, but once clean and tucked in, he'll usually wait for you to fall asleep first. It's partly because of that want of protecting you, but also because watching you sleep and having you in his arms helps him sleep as well.

[icarusdescending7]

Aquamarine - Chapter 4

Ao3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Your fiancé died seven years ago, and you joined the military in his wake to fill the void his death put on you. Now, you work with the 141 for an assignment, hunting associates of their enemies.

Their Lieutenant, however, given you an uneasy feeling. You have a vague sense of familiarity with him, but from where?

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

You woke up still tired in the transport, still leaning on Ghost. He hadn’t moved since you landed on him, what a sweetheart. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as your gut was telling you.

You sat up yawning, looking around and noting that the drivers had swapped sides and Soap was still dead asleep— now lying in your lap. You didn’t bother to shove him off like you normally would have, being too tired to care.

“Five hours.” Ghost mumbled next to you, opening his eyes as daylight shone into the window next to him. “You slept for five hours, on the worst roads we could be driving on, after eating both of our energy bars.”

You grumbled, leaning back against him scooting a bit closer to be more comfortable. “Aye, greedy gal, isn’t she?” Soap chimed in, catching himself just before his head fell off the seat. Instead of sitting up, he also scooted closer, still using your lap as a pillow. “Now I’m gettin’ peckish and don’t get nothing to eat. Gonna have to scrounge on the floor before long.” This made Ghost chuckle, shaking you.

“Oh be quiet, both of you. I have spares in my pack, you can have those.” You grumbled, swatting both of their chests. “Not that you’d want to, they're probably as crumbly as a nature valley bar by now. Considering how much I got thrown around tonight.” You said, making Soap snicker at the minor innuendo you’d made— and earning another quick swat.

“Soap threw you around. I was nice about carryin’ you. Should be thankful I didn't toss you to the wolves.” Ghost said, a bit smugly.

“Not that you could, Price would bite your head off if he found out either of you willingly watched me get hurt.” You stated smugly. “I am only here “temporarily”, after all. He’d hate to lose a soldier that wasn't his in the first place.”

“You think he doesn’t think of you as part of the team?” Soap asked, “Lass, the second you set foot on a base with him, you were part of the team, no ifs ands or buts about it. He’ll care for you like he does the rest of us.” He yawned, laying back down without a word.

“Do you know how long until we hit base?” You asked, looking up at Ghost, who was in the process of removing the plastic mask from his face.

“Few hours. You should finish resting.” He said, strapping it to his thigh holster, then leaning back. “I’ll probably join you and Soap here in a bit.” You could hear the yawn brewing in his voice. Poor man was tired.

~

Sleep talkers— the both of them! They had both talked the entire time they slept! Johnny kept going on and on about his sisters and kelpies, how they “was gonna take ‘em and never see him again” and Ghost was just mumbling loudly to himself, talking about yard work and food and he kept saying “sorry”. That last one made you feel like bad for being upset with his sleep-talking— but it was really annoying. By the time you fell asleep, you only got about an hours worth!

The transport came to a harsh stop, jolting you awake as the door swung open. The late-morning sun blinded you as you opened your bleary eyes, only to see Price— who seemed glad to see you, but less than happy with your performance. However, his upset was subsided temporarily by the sight of the three of you piled on each other, mostly asleep. It made him chuckle a little and turn to call Gaz over, who burst into a fit of laughter. This woke up Soap and Ghost, who got embarrassed and annoyed respectively.

“Be quiet.” Ghost grumbled at Gaz, gently pushing your head off his shoulder and getting out, leaving you barely enough time to catch yourself as you started to topple over in the seat. He walked past Price sluggishly, shuddering as he stretched lazily. “Let's finish all this so I can go to bed.”

“Agreed.” Soap said, waiting for you to jump out. When you did, he followed suit and shoulder-checked Gaz. You only mumbled and tried to stand up straight as you followed the other two.

~~

You watched what little movement you could on base from your vantage point in an empty watchtower tonight, listening to music from days long since past. It was your birthday, and since you hadn’t been with the task force very long, you’d assumed they wouldn’t care to celebrate. You usually ended up drinking yourself into a puddle of tears and anger on your birthday, but Price tried to discourage drinking the pain away so you’d try to make him proud. You’d decided to take the night slow and quiet, instead of spending your wallet at the bar.

Sighing, you laid back on the cold metal grate of the platform, staring up at the stars. Memories stirred but didn’t surface, making tears well but not spill over.

“Rough night?” A low, rough voice asked you. You rolled your head to look at the source, seeing Ghost. He wore a lower face covering, that hid everything up to his cheekbones, revealing a torn ear and messy blond hair. “It’s only 8pm and you look like you’ve been through the wringer.”

“More than.” You replied, turning back to the sky. The stars were barely visible over the light of the base, but you could still pick out a few. “Missing someone. Today has been overall pretty shitty. But nightfall always makes it worse.” Your hand went to your tags, fiddling with the ring on them.

He hummed, going to sit next to you. He stayed silent for a bit, eyes flicking between the sky and base. “Happy birthday, by the way.” He said finally, sighing at the end of it. “Price mentioned it briefly this morning but we were pretty busy so we couldn’t do anything for you, if that’s okay.” He looked down at you, but you couldn’t tell what emotion he had going on.

“Thanks. I don’t mind,” You said, sitting up. “Haven’t celebrated my birthday with anyone in a little over seven years, so I’m used to it. Does the Task Force celebrate everyone’s birthdays?” Looking at him, his brow seemed to furrow at that comment. “Probably not, huh?”

“Price tries when he can. We don’t do mine though, because that’s classified.” He shrugged. “He’ll probably try to make it up to you. He’s not one to forget.”

“You’re super classified, huh? I wonder what that’s like. Must be nice having no one know who you really are. Well—” You paused, thinking. “Probably not. I was hearing legends of you even before I got sent this way.”

“More painful than anything, both metaphorically and physically.” He answered. “Only four people know what I look like. Only one knows my full name. It’s not great that everyone approaches me in fear, either. It’s not all fun and games.”

You nodded, getting what he was saying. After a long moments silence, you spoke again. “Do you have anyone back home? Do you think they miss you?” You asked him, standing to lean against the railing. He took a moment to think about his answer, knowing the answer to the first one, but not sure about the second.

“Not anymore. Only person I had disappeared after I did. Don’t blame her, though. I would too.” He stared up at you for a moment, still thinking about his answer to the next question. “I know she misses me. What I wonder is if she’s angry with me. I up and disappeared from her life, not thinking about the consequences.” He said, a hint of regret in his tone.

“I’d be pretty upset. I know the pain of being left behind… That’s pretty shitty of you, don’t you think?” You asked, looking down at him. He grumbled and sighed a little.

“Yeah. I know it is. But I did it for a reason though. I was being sent on a series of missions that would’ve put her in… in a lot of danger. The best route to avoid that was to cut all ties and disappear.” He bit his tongue. “I found her recently. Seems she’s holding up well enough. A deep dive told me she’s never really gotten over me, though. Adds to the rest of the guilt I suppose.”

“Good. Even if you were being chased by the worst monsters in the world, I don’t think she deserved that. You could’ve at least told her it was for her safety!” You scoffed without thinking. You groaned as the words that had left your mouth sank in, and you expected him to get up and walk away or give you a lecture. Instead, he stayed where he was, looking off into the distance. “Shit, I’m sorry. That just slipped out. My own anger got the better of me. That couldn’t have been easy, leaving her—”

“No, you’re right.” He cut you off. “She definitely didn’t deserve to be abandoned. Especially not in the way I did it. But that’s what I did and I have to live with it. Even if I regret it every day of my life.” Standing, he pulled a small pouch out of his pocket, passing it over to you. “Happy Birthday. Later, Firefly.”

You took the pouch and watched as he walked away. When he was out of sight, you opened it and held it up to look at. It was a small, expertly carved firefly figurine. It made you smile and you tucked it back into its pouch, deciding you’d display it on your desk.

[hydroj1ns]

onsen with mitsuri

cw: gn reader with cock, breeding, she picks up soap, uhh boobs, mentions of pregnancy but like twice, aftercare, cringe dialogue, NOT PROOFREAD (o god)

After an exhausting day working for the demon slayer corps, you were excited to finally retire for the night, but not before a nice, long soak in the hot springs.

What you didn’t expect was someone already in the water. You thought you’d be alone; after all, no one was normally awake during these hours. Uncaring and worn out, you stepped past the fence and into the warm water. The heat of it immediately relaxed your tired muscles, and you tilted your head back onto the stone behind you, closing your eyes.

That was until you were interrupted. “Oh! Hello! Are you also a demon slayer?” Opening your eyes, you were met with the love pillar of all people, with her signature pink and green braids just covering the peachy pink centers of her full breasts. Trying to maintain contact with her, you replied, “Y-yeah… long day, you know…”

“Ah! Same here!” she exclaimed cheerfully. How someone like this was a hashira, you hadn’t a clue. But how she could keep a good posture with those heavy jugs of hers was a more important question. The curve and shape of them was perfect, you doubt you had seen better ones before. Not only that, but her slender body and milky skin was begging to be touched.

Your gaze followed her body as she exited the hot spring. God, even her ass was perfect, round and voluptuous. She took a stool on the side and began scrubbing herself. That was until her bar of soap happened to slip out of her hand. Hurriedly, she got up to chase it, the fat of her behind recoiling with every stride. When it finally stopped sliding, she bent over to pick it up, displaying her juicy pussy from behind. Eyes widening at the erotic view of her pink folds, you felt yourself get aroused in the water.

As the hashira turned to walk back to her stool, you whipped your head away the sight, feigning ignorance.

“Ah.. excuse me! Do you think you could help me scrub my back? I cant quite seem to reach some spots.”

After muttering something about taking orders from a hashira, you crouched behind her sitting form, rubbing the bar of soap all over the expanse of her back, which was noticeably hard and toned. Surprising you, she suddenly stood up so that you were face to face with that glorious ass. Turning around so that you were now face to face with the lips of her cunt, she explained, “My arms are a bit sore right now, do you think you could also help me clean down there? I cant quite reach it.” She asked politely.

Of course, who were you to say no? You directed her to sit back on the stool and spread her legs around you. You first took your sudded hand to massage the inside of her thighs, drawing suppressed little moans from her. You moved onto her outer lips; your fingers were in a v-shape, rubbing up and down her lips teasingly. Then, using two fingers to spread her puffy folds, you were greeted by her tight hole. Using your other two fingers, you shoved them inside, stirring slowly and sensually. You watched as she arched her back and threw her head back, finally letting out loud moans. Her thick braids fell to the side of her large breasts, revealing the blushy pink nipples, which were hardened from the chilly night air. This only encouraged you to continue, so you started scissoring your fingers inside of her.

“Miss Mitsuri, I believe I can clean you deeper inside, if you would allow me.”

“P-please… I-ah! want to get clean…”

With her consent, you shoved your cock down to the hilt inside her convulsing cunt. Her warm walls felt so good spasming around you, so much so that you could cum right there, inside of her.

“Your cute little pussy is squeezing me so hard, what does it really want?” you asked teasingly.

She could only stutter, “G-give me your cum. Cum in my womb!”

“Dropping the act now? Wouldn’t that be the opposite of cleaning you inside?” You smirked. After all, this would most likely be your final and only chance to fuck a pillar.

“Give me your babies! I don’t care who you are! I’ve been celibate for months because of my duties! Give me anything!” She exclaimed passionately.

As per her request, you thrusted deep into her, and with every pull out and back in, she cried ecstatically, until she finally came, forming a white ring around the base of your cock. However, you kept abusing her throbbing pussy. While groping at her tits like your life depended on it, you could feel the head of your cock breach something inside of her.

“P-put it in my womb! Make me carry your child!”

Smirking, you wondered, “How heavily will these tits get once a make you round with my kids? They’re already quite heavy, are you sure you aren’t already pregnant? Am I fucking a pregnant woman?”

“I-I don’t kn-know!” She shouted, clearly drunk on your cock. You took the liberty to release inside her now-abused womb, filling the cavern inside of her with your white essence. Giving her nipples a few final pinches, you pulled out of her. She quickly used her well manicured fingers to stop to the cum dribbling out of her, desperate to keep every drop inside of her. God, she looked amazing, with her perky breasts shiny with sweat, pussy red after your fucking, and milky thighs shaking from it all.

While cleaning her, for real this time, you wondered how often the love pillar got fucked like this. It made sense when you really think about it, since her whole theme was love and lust. Also, why else was she the only one with a breast window anyway? And that short skirt? Her asscheeks practically hung out of those. Was her outfit really corps-approved?

Depositing her slumbering form at her inn-room, you thanked her before leaving, even though she probably couldn’t hear you. This was probably the last time you would see her, as you were just some low-rank, practically fodder for most demons.

You took your leave, trudging down the dirt path in search of your next assignment.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Second Chance 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Jonathan Pine

Summary: You move into your parents’ house as you try to rebuild your life, catching the attention of someone you never expected.

Part of the Brother’s Best Friend Universe

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The next day, you acquiesce to your mother’s whims. There was rarely a time when you could deny her and the times you did, had her often reminding you of your ‘rebellious’ teenage years. You don’t bother to mention that wearing black and not wanting to hold her hand in public wasn’t much of a rebellion.

You just have to remember that this isn’t about you. Tandi doesn’t yet know the storm she’s marrying into. You’ll let her have her grace period before it truly sets in. It could be seconds, it could be months, but eventually, your mother will turn the screw.

You walk behind the pair through the crowded rows of the farmer’s market. They almost seem to forget you but that doesn’t bother you. You prefer it.

They stop at the soap booth and the battle of scent threatens to trigger a migraine. You hold your breath until Tandi finishes her purchase; some body scrub and a piece of soap that looks like a fruit parfait. Your mother opts for her own collection of cinnamon heart soap bars. You wonder where she’ll hide them as she only ever allowed white items in the bathroom; down to the soap and the shampoo.

“Do you have friends coming for the party then?” Your mother asks as they stroll along.

“Uh, yes, hopefully they can make it,” Tandi answers, “work and all that.”

“Of course, that’s understandable but it’s a very important event,” your mother chirps back, “do you have something to wear? You would look marvelous in rose.”

“I have some options,” your brother’s fiancee flick her hair back. “I was thinking it might be nice to do a brunch, rather than a dinner.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. And of course,” your mother pauses, peering back over her shoulder as she recalls your mournful existence, “we can help.”

“That’s so sweet,” Tandi purrs.

“Well, you know, we haven’t much going on.”

You frown. It’s an obvious jab at your current predicament. It isn’t as if you haven’t been trying. You filled every open job posting you can find and haven’t heard back from a single one. Yet, your mother would never believe you to be helpless, just lazy.

“I’m going to find the bathroom,” you mutter but neither seems to hear or care.

You break away from them and delve into the crowd. You feel desolate in the roiling crowd. You don’t miss Ransom, or Hugh, or whatever he wanted you to call him that day, you just miss having someone else. Someone by your side to face the outside world. 

He never really was that, was he? You just convinced yourself he was. He settled for you and you thought that was good enough. You made yourself believe you were good enough.

You find the bathrooms and hide inside. You don’t need to go, you just need to get your shit together. You take out your phone and put on your rationed data so you can check your emails. Junk, junk, junk… ‘Invitation to Interview’. Huh.

You quickly scroll and scan the email, not wanting to waste the data. It’s nothing special, nothing as glorious as your previous job. It’s a customer service role at the local travel planner, a vibrant business among the burgeoning retirement community. It’ll have to do.

You flip the switch to disconnect from the network and emerge to wash your hands. You make your way back into the market and search among the tides. You wander in circles until you find the duo. They sit at the cafe bar in the corner, drinks in front of them, and a set of half-eaten scones. They didn’t wait for you or even think to grab you something.

You shrug it off. You think you might have been wrong. Again. Your mother isn’t going to bulldoze this daughter, no, Tandi is going to be the daughter she never had. Jaydon always was her favourite; the infallible baby boy.

💋

You accept the invitation. The pay is barely above minimum wage and the role is tedious but it’s all you’ve got. You don’t tell your parents, not wanting to disappoint them. It would be better to surprise them with good news, not let them down with another failure.

You find the nicest skirt you could salvage in your hasty retreat from the city. You sneak out through the back as the rest of the house delights in their perfect fairy tale. You’d rather have a stuffy interview than to bear another day of fake smiling and dulled blades aimed at your throat.

The agency isn’t very far. The bus takes you to the core of the town and your heels click down the half-block to the storefront painted with palm trees and beach umbrellas. You peek inside before you enter and check the information on your phone just to be sure. You’re early.

A woman named Brenda greets you and tells you to wait in the seats meant for clients. You fidget as the clock ticks in the quiet office until she finishes with the old couple at her desk in the tight cubicle. They leave, happy, and she invites you back.

It isn’t anything beyond the usual; what will you bring to this job? When’s a time you had to be spontaneous? How would you handle a disgruntled customer? You recite the acceptable answers and at the end, she offers you the job. You don’t think it’s because you’re anything exceptional but judging by the two-hundred days the posting’s been up, there hasn’t been much interest. You both are ready to take the first thing that comes along.

She sends you off with a smile and you try not to let your fake one fall before you’re out of the office. Out of the sight of the windows, you let your shoulders drop and sigh. It’s good news, you got a job, but somehow you think your parents will find a damper. ‘How much does it pay? What do you do? Oh, that’s a starter job.’

Well, dad, mom, I am starting over. I fucked up. I built nothing but a disaster.

You round the corner and stumble as suddenly you hit a wall you don’t expect. You stagger until you’re caught by firm hands around your upper arms. You gulp and your eyes round as they meet another pair, blue and bold. Jonathan grins as he issues an apology and your own tumbles off your tongue.

“I wasn’t… looking,” you murmur.

“Quite alright,” his hands linger on your arms and you wriggle. “Neither was I.”

He laughs at himself and you look down at his hold on you. He squeezes before he lets go and drops his hands to his side. He tucks them into his pockets. He’s dressed effortlessly in a pair of gray slacks and powder blue pullover.

“Special occasion?” He wonders as he looks you up and down.

You peek at your skirt. It’s nothing special. Pinstripe, black, pencil cut. It doesn’t fit you the way it used to. You think Ransom noticed that too…

“Job interview,” you shrug.

“Oh, exciting. So when do you hear back?”

You rub your neck and sway. He’s just being nice. He’s always been polite, on the outside, but you saw the antics he got up to with Jaydon. He always had that charming grin for your mother but never hesitated to cause chaos with your menace of a brother.

“You don’t have to ask. Really. It’s not a big deal.”

“Mm, well, what if I genuinely want to know?” 

There he is, that oppositional twerp. You blow out between your lips and smile, “I got the job. It’s at the travel agency so… big whoop.”

“Big whoop indeed,” he remarks, “I’d say we should celebrate with a drink but I’d also say you sound like you need one. Desperately.”

You meet his eyes again. You squint. Was he always this handsome? Or is that another trick of time? You pack on some love handles and you look chronically tired, but his lines only refine him, his age becomes him.

“That’s nice but I should head home.”

“Why? So you can listen to Jay brag about his convertible? Even I’m over that. He’d do better with something economic but he always knows best, doesn’t he?”

You scoff, “wow, sounds like you had quite the reunion.”

“Well, time changes us all,” he says, “but you always were more fun to drink with.”

[indianamoonshine]

pillow talk | din djarin x reader | request

rating: m as always. 18+.

summary: din comes back from a hunt while you’re sleeping. he has something to confess.

author’s note: this was a request from the list i had reblogged last weekend!

you’d been entering your REM sleep when he crawls into bed.

it’s a subtle shift but it’s enough to stir you awake, a slight intake of air sounding in the darkness. the joys of a ship like the apricus allowed for a large enough bed for the two of you to comfortably sleep in. and while the romantic aspect of your relationship with din was fairly new, sleeping in the same bed was not. sometimes, traveling across the galaxy meant sharing close quarters even before you’ve felt their kiss or memorized the contours of their face in the darkness.

din’s bare chested, tepid, and freshly showered. he smells of bar soap and a spice you’ve grown to love since knowing him; it’s an essential ingredient in the shampoo he used. sometimes when he is away for far longer than you’d like, using his toiletries is a little way of feeling less homesick for him.

a warmth blooms in your chest when he pulls you close and covers the two of you with a thick, woolen blanket he’d bought for you on his travels. with your back against his chest, you can feel every rise and fall of his breath - every beat of his heart. you make a small noise to indicate you’re awake, but not at all disturbed by it.

din’s only been away for four days which - at first felt like eons - but now seems like the most wonderful gift you could receive. still, it doesn’t make the lonely nights any less cold when he’s gone. so to feel him here, safe and at home, lessens the anxiety you’ve been harboring.

“‘m sorry i woke you…” he mumbles in your shoulder, inhaling what he finds to smell so lovely. you really don’t think you smell much like anything, but he lets out a sleepy moan of satisfaction nonetheless.

you bring a hand to thread in his curls and rub your thumb at his scruffy jaw. “don’t be. you know i prefer to be woken when you come home.” your voice is like a cloud - drifting and fluffy; full of something unpredictable because of instability.

din’s arms wrap tighter around your waist like you’ll dissipate into the realm of dreamscape. his nose slots behind your ear and he kisses the shell of it before he whispers -

“i can’t fathom the idea of my life without you in it…”

it’s sung sweet and softly, tickling at your spine. your fingers threading through his locks of hair still, but the empty palm at your side presses against the hand at your waist. you turn in his grasp, aware that the night will shroud his face from your vision.

he trusts you, without hesitation, and allows you to shift your knee between his legs so you can entangle with him comfortably. the two of you are nose to nose, oxygen mingling in the space between you.

“what brought this on?” you ask, running a finger across his brow bone where you can feel worry lines begin to form.

din is silent, considering his next words carefully. “there was a couple that gave me lodging while i was gone. the wife was ill with fever…” he pauses and you can almost hear his heart skip with disdain at the memory. “she passed my last night there. and the husband…he…”

he shakes his head, clearing an image you suspect he’d rather forget.

“it never gets easier to watch someone mourn their loved ones. but now that i…” he stops, his sentence halting so quickly that you can almost hear the gears in his head shift.

strange. din is methodical in everything he does - even storytelling. but now he struggles to form his thoughts like an inebriated person; it’s far too careful to avoid suspicion, though that’s exactly what it ends up doing.

“din?” you whisper. “now that you what?”

he lets out a great sigh. “now that i can understand how terrible the pain must be.”

oh.

oh.

you still, allowing him to continue without spooking him into shutting down. yes, you think, please tell me. please, please, please.

din cups your cheek and brings your forehead to meet his with a keldabe kiss - an honor, sacred in its purpose - despite the fact that his lips are exposed.

“i think i’m falling for you.”

the confession is drawn out and rough around the edges, din’s voice cloaked with an emotion he’s never experienced in his life. his bravery to expose himself like this - to be so honest and raw - brings tears to your eyes.

you find yourself allowing a few tears to escape, the avowal leaving a brittle and beautiful taste in the atmosphere. you smile and sniffle, blushing when din reaches out to wipe the tears from your pink cheeks.

“i love you,” you tell him in a whisper that cracks. “i love you so much that it hurts.”

din presses his lips against yours and you let him, sinking into his arms more than you thought possible.

“i love you, sweet girl…” he mumbles between kisses. “i’ll always keep you safe.”

[miniwheat77]

Tipsy. (Captain Price x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW Smut, unprotected p in v sex, public sex, Price is being rough ;), alcohol, this is really short. Been sitting in my drafts for some time (sorry if I missed any.)

“I’m thinking we all go out. As a celebration.” Soap smiles.

“Oh please, you’re just looking for a reason to get your hands on some tequila.” John mumbles.

“Whaaaat? I would never.” He pretends to look offended. He shakes his head. “Alright fine. For just an hour though, nothing crazy.” John mumbles. Once they’ve arrived back at base they gather everyone up and they’re walking down the streets to get to the small club. It was nice being here, nobody knew who they were when they were dressed normally. It was peaceful. An hour later, you’re nowhere to be found.

“Is she still out on the dance floor?” Captain Price looks at his watch. “Yeah probably. You’ll have to drag her away Captain.” He rolls his eyes. “Christ in heaven, I didn’t sign up for this.” He grumbles, standing up from his spot at the bar.

They know exactly how you get when you drink, so sending their Captain out to get you is going to be funny. Your Captain hadn’t seen it yet. He was always so uptight, never wanted to go out. They knew you can be pretty persuasive, maybe it’d help him lighten up.

He’s shoving through the crowd to get to you and when he runs into you, you’ve got a grin on your face, grasping his hand and pulling him into you. He laughs awkwardly, you’re very pushy. “Uh.. it’s time to head back now.” He mumbles, you’re dancing in front of him. “Nooo. Come on. We just got here.” You grasp his hand, spinning around.

His eyes widen as you back your hips into him, moving with the beat of the song.

The rest of the task force is witnessing it, Soap is trying not to laugh. “He’s gonna kill us for sending him out there.”

“Oh absolutely, but it’s good for the old man.”

They can see how rigid he’s gone when you back your hips up into him. They can’t help but laugh.

“Y-Y/N. Stop.” He spins you around, you pull him into you. “Oh come on Captain. Live a little.” You smile. He swallows hard at how forward you’re being. You’re drunk. He’s drunk too, had a little more bourbon than he should’ve. He can feel himself getting hard in his jeans, something he hadn’t felt in ages. He growls when you back up into him again. “Y/N..” he grits his teeth, face near your neck.

“So. How many push ups do you think he’s going to make us do?” Gaz asks.

“Good question. I bet we’re up early for extra drills.” Soap laughs. Taking another drink of his Tequila.

You let out a gasp, tilting your head back to rest on his chest, feeling him hardening against your ass. “Captain..” you smile. Grinding back into him. “You’re in a lot of trouble for this.” He breathes, rocking his hips into yours. By now, the crowd around you has you buried between them and nobody is focused on the way you’re rocking into him. He grasps a handful of your hair, tilting your head back. His breath is hot against your ear. “Bathroom. Now.” He growls. You bite your lip, watching him disappear into the crowd of people. You can feel yourself sobering up, nervous as you make your way for the bathroom.

“She’s gonna keep him out there a while, I say we check out this pool table.” Soap nods. They all agree, standing up and making their way over to it.

You push open the door seeing your Captain standing in front of the sink. Luckily it was a small one person bathroom. He makes his way over to you, locking the door and pushing you up against it. “You’re a bad fucking girl, making a fool of me like that.” He growls. You look up at him, eyes wide and you appear intimidated until a smile creeps onto your lips. “I can make it up to you Captain.” You breath. “Oh you will baby.” He growls. He spins you around, pushing your face into the wall and forcing you to arch your back. Pushing your dress up over your hips. He pulls your panties to the side, rubbing his fingers over your bare pussy.

“Fucking soaked.. such a fucking slut.” He breathes. He unzips his cargo pants, tugging them down far enough to expose his aching cock. His tip is blushing red and leaking precum from being teased for so long. He spits in his hand rubbing it over the entrance of your pussy, feeling you mewl into him. He rubs his cock back and fourth over you until you’re whining.

When you don’t expect it, he’s thrusting into you. A gasp leaves your lips and your hands are resting against the wall, wishing you could hang onto something as he starts his aching hard thrusts into your pussy. Gripping your hair hard and pulling you back to kiss him, resting his hand on your throat as he fucks into you. “Such a bad fucking girl. You like teasing me? Hm?”

“Yes- yes Captain!” You moan. “Mhm. I bet you do.”

“W-wanted you so bad.” You cry. Choking on sobs and cries as they leave your throat. “Yeah. I guess you got what you wanted hm.” He smiles. He wraps his hands around your waist, fucking into you and holding you tight. He hisses as you clench down on him, only now realizing just how long it’s been, how good you feel on him. “Fuck- gotta be quick before we get caught.” He breathes.

He pulls you back into him more, moving his fingers down between your legs and rubbing fast circles into your clit, you know you won’t last long. “Oh fuck- I’m gonna cum!” You whine, tilting your head back as he tugs on your hair once more. “Cum on my cock baby, yeah that’s it.” He growls. He’s right on the edge of his own orgasm, ready to let you have every bit of it. You pull away from him, and he growls. “What are you-“ you turn around to face him. “Wanna see you.” You breathe. He laughs, shaking his head. He grasps your thighs, lifting you up and pinning you to the wall behind you, a gasp leaving your lips at him manhandling you. His cock is slick with your orgasm still, making it easy for him to slide back into you. Hearing you moan. He pins your legs up, pressing his forehead to yours and thrusting into you, fast and hard. He’s reaching deeper places than before, growling as you start to claw at him.

You wrap your arms around his neck, holding onto him tight as he cries out. “M’gonna cum.” He gasps. “Gonna fuckin cum baby- fuck.” He grits his teeth, hips stuttering to a stop as he finishes, crying out as he finishes. He holds you tight to him, panting as he comes down from his high.

He pants hard into your shoulder. “Fuck.. I’m sorry.” He breathes. Hearing you laugh. “For what?” You breath, pulling away. “I was rough.” He breathes. “I haven’t.. done anything like this in a long time, I couldn’t control myself.” He breathes. You say nothing, deciding to kiss him instead. When he lets you down off of him, he slides out of you with a groan. “Fuck..” he sighs. “We should get back out there, they’re probably wondering where we are.” He laughs awkwardly. “Probably.” You smile, sliding your dress back down.

The both of you emerge from the bathroom, thankful that nobody is waiting outside.

When the both of you approach the pool table, you’re getting glances. “Finally got her off the dance floor ah?”

“Yeah, she’s uh.. quite the party animal.” He laughs. Hearing you laugh. “Nah I think she just sobered up enough to be done.” He lies. “Right, we’re just about done with this game.” Soap laughs, turning back to the table. They don’t see the way your Captain squeezes your ass as he passes by, a quiet gasp leaving your lips.

[robo-cryptid]

Working on some Grand Duke Wyll/Spawn Astarion fic, and it's going kind of okay (a miracle given my fic writing lately). Behold, a WIP:

Wyll does not have to duck to enter The Blushing Mermaid. His horns, hidden by the glamor, pass easily beneath; knowing this does not quite stop him from flinching under the frame.

He finds what he is looking for skulking near the bar. Astarion is chatting up a woman whose dingy yellow coat has seen better days, wearing a look Wyll remembers from the first few weeks of their shared adventure, before everyone’s walls began to crumble. He appears to hang off her every word, but his eyes are calculating. Tension around his jaw puts the lie to his easy smile. He’s looking for a meal ticket, in one sense or another. 

That’s… well, not good, exactly, but it means Wyll has something to bargain with if Astarion decides to play hard to get.

He clears his throat, angling himself against the bar on Astarion’s other side, just close enough to ensure it appears intentional. It works. Red eyes immediately narrow at him.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Wyll says. His face and horns had to be glamored, lest they give him away to the typical Baldurian, but his voice remains undisguised. He hopes the months they spent suffering myriad traumas together have burned it into Astarion’s mind in the same way Wyll can still hear his former companions.

There are no other words for it: Astarion lights up. “You are, but it’s a welcome one.” To the woman he’s been wrapping around his finger, he says, “Sorry, darling. Perhaps tomorrow will be your lucky night,” and pulls Wyll to a proper table in an appropriately shadowy corner.

“I was going to order,” Wyll says.

“There is a serving girl around here somewhere. Serving woman, really. Not exactly in her prime. But please, tell me what brings you to this fine establishment.”

“Aren’t you going to confirm who you’re talking to?”

Astarion’s smile is smug. “No need. My condition does come with some advantages, you know.” 

“Astarion,” Wyll says slowly, piecing together a suspicion. “Did you sniff me?”

“Naturally. Do you want to know what you smell like?”

“Sort of.”

Astarion leans in, weight on his elbows on the worn table. “The soap is more expensive now, of course, but underneath, it’s… surprisingly woodsy, with burnt sugar, a splash of wine, rich soil, and” ⁠— he hesitates, barely noticeable ⁠— “the faintest whiff of sulfur.”

“Still?” Wyll asks, trying not to let it set his teeth on edge.

“Still.” 

“As if I didn’t bear enough reminders.” He glances at Astarion’s red eyes, then at the high collar covering the bite scars. He thinks about the symbols etched deep into Astarion’s back. “I suppose I am not the only one marked.”

“Gracious of you to remember,” Astarion says with only half the sneer he might have had a few months ago.

The serving woman still hasn’t come, so it’s as good a time as any to get a drink at the bar. It gives him a moment to collect himself, although his skin crawls with the weight of Astarion’s gaze.

The drink selection is nothing but beer in different shades, as if the piss used to flavor it was collected at various states of dehydration. Wyll selects two ales in the pastel range and offers a silent prayer to Helm before the first sip.

As he settles back into his creaking seat, Astarion asks, “How is it?”

“Almost drinkable if I don’t breathe through my nose.” Wyll pushes the second mug toward him, although he doesn’t know in truth if Astarion can actually drink it, or if he only ever pretended with the wine back in their camp.

Astarion ignores the mug. “Now, are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

“I’m here to offer you a job.” Astarion’s laugh is high and disbelieving. “I’m serious,” Wyll presses. “I’ve need of an advisor on legal matters. Really someone to help with all the paperwork.”

“You want a secretary? What could I possibly get out of this?”

“I don’t know where you’re staying now, but I assume the manor would be an upgrade.”

“You want me to live in your manor?”

“One of the bedchambers, it has an attached dressing room that’s always been a bit too dark. Not enough light from the windows, you see. But it’s a perfectly lovely room otherwise.”

Astarion leans closer, voice lower. “You want me to live in a closet?” 

“I want you to live wherever you want to live. But I thought if it’s your room ⁠— if you live there ⁠— you’d be able to come and go as you please, no invitations or formalities required.”

Astarion merely blinks for a moment. His eyes really are striking, once one gets past the generally monstrous association. “That is… thoughtful of you.”

“So room and board, and you’ll be paid a salary, of course. And I understand your dietary restrictions. We will find a compromise on that, I’m sure.”

“I'm sure. I do have another question.”

“Let’s hear it then,” Wyll says.

“You may be adorably naive at times, but you’re not a dullard. Why do you even need me?”

“Shadowheart says⁠—”

“Not what she says. I’m asking you.”

Wyll doesn’t know why he hesitates. During their travels, they saw each other at their lowest, their most desperate, their most terrified. And Astarion, he knows what it is to feel the leash grow tighter with every effort to get free. If anyone will understand, it should be him.

“Do you remember you offered to read her contract?”

“Did I? I suppose that’s just the sort of generous person I am.” Astarion is a terrible actor. Wyll doesn’t know how he’s seduced so many people.

“You did, and I remember it, and I am grateful. Now, I have to look at contracts and mediation agreements and proposed laws every day. I think I could grow used to the twisty language, but when I get to the fine print or the⁠— the clauses within clauses within clauses, I start to hear it in her voice.” He swallows, breathes, drains the last of his beer. “It is difficult to parse when all I see is red.”

“I see.” Astarion’s face softens, but it’s gone in an instant. Perhaps Wyll only imagined it.

[bimbodoggie]

･.｡*･.｡*♥︎ RULES & REGULATIONS

synopsis: ghost wanted you to abide by his rules, but of course you had other plans.

cw: dom/sub dynamic, size kink, (reader is hinted to be black) fem reader, plus sized reader, slight cam girl reader, mean dom!simon, hair pulling, impact play, degrading, double penetration, restraints (simon uses his belt), the mask comes on and off, creampie, and anything else i missed :3

you were 100% made for simon, you two happen to meet at a small bar, he was there with soap, his friend…and simon doesn’t have many of those.

today was one of the most important days, he was coming home after a mission overseas, you prepared all day for this to happen, you even brought a new camera with a new ring light, and tripod to record you guys new tape.

he promised that he would be home at a certain time, the time was dwindling down, to keep yourself busy you grabbed your wand from your light pink box.

you turned on the camera to start recording, your moaning bounced off each decorated white wall….you were unable to hear the sound of simon creeping up the stairs.

he stood in the doorway watching you until he snuck from behind and squeezed your neck a little…you were fucked

“how many time do i tell you to listen?” he stood there staring at your big doe brown eyes, you were nervous because well shit this man is huge…you had this stupid look on your face making him squeeze your plush thighs as if it was a stress ball.

“simon im sorry” the betrayal he felt how a electric vibrating device made you feel good rather than your own boyfriend’s dick, you felt ashamed almost like he caught you in the bed with one of his men.

“no noise, you were supposed to abide by the rules and you failed to do so, now i have to drill them into your brainless head” the first thing to go that was on simon’s body was his belt, he made a makeshift cuff which held both of your arms into one

“please” you begged for his forgiveness and hopes to maybe overlook this, but with simon he wont stop until HE is satisfied, you were already naked in front of him, it was like you were his weakness…

his large calloused hands made its way to the globes of your ass, one assault on each side, it felt like hours but in reality it was only 10 minutes he did this for….next he went straight for your cunt

“there she is, my other pretty girl” with that statement alone it sent you into orbit, he started to spread you open which made your cunt clench around nothing

the attempt to get him to fuck you was poor…he knew he wanted to take his time with you so you can really learn that you need to listen

his thumb found your walls, simon knew you HATED teasing, but at this moment that was the last thing he was thinking about

“gonna fuck you dumb again and again until you learn to listen” simon added another finger his index but by then he was already lined up with your entrance

there it was, the familiar sensation of trying to let him in, when he was in his thumb met your puckered hole

“si no more, im sorry, im sorry” you kept repeating yourself over and over, your eyes full of tears and you were, well a fucked out mess

there was a dip in the bed when his chest met your back, he undid the restraint that kept you from running, he had you where he wanted, helpless, and fucked out

“you keep fuckin tryin me, do you know that doll? always doin the complete opposite so now i just have to teach you again hm?” the only response you gave simon was a nod, this wasn’t enough for him

his thumb plunged further in your other hole which made you squeal out “mmmh” was as verbal as you were going to get, the rest of the noises were “please” “im sorry” “im a good girl”

that wasn’t enough he pulled out of you which made you whimper, he flipped you over and there he was, his balaclava was lifted enough to where you could see his lips and stubble

the teasing process started all over again, he took his cock and rubbed it up and down on your cunt making you look away in sheer embarrassment, he leaned over and grabbed a fistful of your hair forcing you to look at what was going down below

“you- fuck, see this baby?” he rasped directing your head to his dark, soulless eyes

he let go and leaned for a kiss while he slid himself inside of you, it was sloppy

the only thing that filled the room at this moment was the squelching of your abused cunt, simon grunting, and how you whimpered

simon was the first to pull from the kiss, he stared and looked how soft and gropeable you are, the way your boobs jiggled in missionary along with your soft stomach, and how your plush lips called out for him every single time

he then put your legs on his shoulder making him dig deeper “i know baby, gonna cum in you, i know you want it”

you KNEW what was going to happen, but it came all so quickly.

“are you with me?” the million dollar question, if it wasn’t his hand made contact with your skin snapping you out of whatever trance he had you in

“not a single thought in that brain, always wantin me to think for you….i know baby you just love how i slut you out every time, yeah?”

your eyebrows furrowed together which was an indicator to simon you were close, lust was filled in your eyes, no matter how many times you and simon fucked it was the same thing…hes just too fucking big.

he removed your legs from his broad shoulders and folded them, “we can do this all night doll its up to you”

“simon i didn’t mean it i promise, i was just needy” you had zero idea what the hell you were saying to him, all you knew was his balaclava was completely off and he was close…his strokes were sloppy

“now baby, be good at take this dick for me”

after one last stroke he finished inside of you, he pulled out and grabbed his cell phone, “another addition to my collection”