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darkmatilda · 14 days ago

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𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: basically just two bookworms arguing about books and having a s3x right after

𝐚/𝐧: please read the note! so it's only a very short part of my upcoming fanfiction that has...25k words...i'm aware no one is going to read it all soo i'm publishing one of my favorite parts.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.1k

Maybe it was that one drink you had, but your legs seemed to take you in a certain direction.

You weren’t sure if Spencer was even home. But if you had nothing else to do, why not check? A short walk. You were a little desperate, after all, you didn’t have anywhere else to go. That’s how you justified it. You were going to him because you had no other option.

He opened the door, dressed in a wrinkled shirt, trousers, and a tie loosely hanging around his neck. His hair was in disarray, and you felt an urge to run your fingers through it and style it the way you wanted, but it would’ve been awkward.

"Hey. Am I interrupting?"

Surprised, Spencer shook his head.

"No... Actually, I was asleep."

"In those clothes?"

"I fell asleep while reading..." he explained, trailing off when he noticed your appearance. To put it modestly, you looked incredibly hot. For a long moment, his gaze lingered on your dress, visible beneath the open jacket and ending high on your thigh. "Very... nice dress. Is it... is it your mom's too?"

You chuckled.

"Can you imagine my mom, a school psychologist, in a dress covering half her ass?"

Embarrassed, Spencer raised his hands in apology and also chuckled softly.

"Sorry, I'm still half-asleep. Anyway... is there something wrong that you're here?"

"My mentally unstable ex-boyfriend of my roommate is lurking under our apartment.” You confessed bluntly “I'm a little scared to go back, and... I didn't know where else I could go."

It seemed like he was suddenly waking up quickly. He swung the door wide open, letting you in.

"Of course, come in. Is he dangerous?"

"He shows up every now and then and then disappears. It's like a lottery. Jude doesn't want to ever see him again, so we just pretend we're not here when it happens."

The inside looked just as you remembered. The lights were off everywhere except the bedroom, where he was probably reading. You allowed yourself to take off your uncomfortable shoes and set them by the door.

"Why don't you report it to the police?" His forehead furrowed with concern.

"Jude doesn't want to. And I don't want to do anything against her will. But I swear, if this happens again, I'll convince her. Or I'll do it myself."

"You should," he said, and suddenly a silence fell between you.

You weren't sure how to act. You'd barged in on him in the middle of the night, pulling him from his sleep. Not to mention, you hadn't seen each other since that conversation at the bar.

"Let me take your jacket," he said after a moment, as if remembering how to behave when hosting a guest.

You slowly took it off, revealing the full dress. Spencer momentarily let his gaze linger on it, but then he caught himself and turned away to hang your jacket. The glance didn't embarrass you in the slightest; if anything, you expected to catch him looking.

"Sorry if I woke you," you said, realizing you should probably apologize. It was only then that you began to feel a little awkward about the situation.

"You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault. And I'm glad I can help," he said, and once again, silence settled between you. Spencer placed his hand on his forehead as he realized you were still standing in the hallway. "Sorry, it's been a long time since anyone's visited, and I don't even know how to act... Do you want something to drink, or need anything?"

"I’m fine," you assured him, walking behind him into the living room. "I don't want you to act like I'm some important guest, Spencer. Or like you need to serve me."

"But you are an important guest," he replied.

A warm, gentle smile appeared on your lips.

"What were you reading?" you asked, leaning your lower back against the kitchen island, the two rooms connected as one. You glanced around the cozy interior, in soft, almost warm hues, where the darkness of the night blended with the orange light of the lamp. "Let me guess, some spine-chilling thriller?"

"I have spine-chilling thrillers every day at work," he snorted. "I was reading... Emma. Jane Austen."

Your eyebrows shot up.

"You fell asleep reading classic literature on a Friday night? Spencer Reid, what kind of man are you?"

"In a good way or a bad way?"

He stood across from you, his arms loosely crossed over his chest. Your eyes lingered on the first few undone buttons of his shirt.

"Of course, in a good way. Why would I judge someone for reading?"

"I don’t know," he shrugged. "Some people think it’s boring. And weird, especially on a Friday night. And what about you? What were you doing before your roommate’s ex showed up?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes as he nodded meaningfully toward your outfit. "Were you reading too?"

You lifted your chin high.

"Exactly. I was reading my favorite Shakespearean drama in my favorite dress. And those incredibly comfortable shoes I left by your door."

"That goes without saying."

"I definitely wasn’t at any club."

"I wouldn’t even suspect you of that."

"I was doing what any God-fearing virgin would do," you said, bursting into laughter at the absurdity. "Alright, alright. I’m getting carried away. Now I actually feel like reading something. But nothing too classic—I don’t have the brainpower for it. Do you happen to have any romance novels?"

I'm afraid not."

"Really? You have more books in your home than the library in my hometown, and not a single romance? I’m not talking about dark erotica or anything—just something subtle. Friends to lovers, polite sex..."

Spencer choked on a laugh.

"Sorry, but are you drunk?"

You were just horny.

"Not a drop of alcohol has touched my lips. I'm just hyperactive. That’s what the night does to me."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"So? Aren't you hiding any sinful books in there?"

He rolled his eyes, clearly amused rather than annoyed by your persistence.

"You're welcome to look," he offered, gesturing toward one of the shelves. "But I’m not promising you’ll find anything like that."

"But if I do, you owe me a drink."

“And if it turns out I’m right, then what?”

You bit your lip, pondering.

“I’ll figure something out.”

“You know, I won’t enter a bet unless I know what I get in return.”

“And what do you want?”

“A dinner together,” he replied without hesitation. “Or breakfast, if you prefer.”

“Deal,” you answered just as quickly. You weren’t worried about regretting it—your blood was buzzing too much for that.

He extended his hand for you to shake on it, sealing the deal. Instead of letting go, you held onto his fingers firmly and tugged him toward the bookshelf. He stood so close as you examined the books one by one, taking some out to inspect their covers to see if they suggested any hint of romance. When they didn’t, he let out a short laugh, his breath brushing against your neck and sending a shiver down your spine. You didn’t let it show.

“Spencer…” you started after a while, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “It counts if the book has a romantic subplot, right?”

“No, it doesn’t count! We agreed on a romance. A full-fledged, contemporary one.”

“We didn’t say contemporary.”

“I assumed it was implied since I mentioned owning Jane Austen books. Pride and Prejudice is a romance, among other things…”

“Ha! So you do have one. I won!” You raised your hands high in victory.

“…But it’s also a social and domestic novel. Doesn’t count.”

You poked him in the chest with your finger.

“You don’t know how to lose.”

He glanced at the spot where you touched him, clearly trying not to smile.

“Maybe I just care a lot about that dinner,” he admitted boldly.

You didn’t know what to say. You tried to look at him confidently, but it was hard to think and maintain eye contact with him at the same time.

“Or breakfast,” you murmured.

“Or breakfast,” he agreed. Realizing how close he was standing, he instinctively stepped back half a pace. “So, are you ready to admit my victory?”

You shot him a defiant look.

“Not a chance. I haven’t even checked all the books yet. I’m only about three-quarters through. Who knows what kind of BDSM might be lurking in the last quarter?”

“Seriously?” he asked with a sigh. “Okay, just look at me. Do I seem like the kind of guy who reads stuff like that?”

“Honestly, you look like the kind of guy who reads encyclopedias. But the one thing I know about people is that appearances can be deceiving. Still waters run deep.”

He shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re as stubborn as they come.”

“Maybe I just really want that drink,” you teased.

“I can make you one,” he offered unexpectedly.

“Seriously?” The suggestion caught you off guard.

Spencer shrugged casually.

“I don’t drink much, but some friends gave me a few bottles for my birthday.”

You hesitated, considering.

“I’m not really in the mood,” you admitted. You felt good, even without alcohol. “But I do have another request… Do you happen to have something I could change into? I won’t lie, this isn’t the most comfortable dress… though it’s absolutely stunning.”

He smiled softly.

"You’re right. And yes, I’ll find something for you to change into. Just… it’ll be something of mine."

Following him into the bedroom, you let out a small chuckle.

"You know, I didn’t expect you to have a closet full of women’s clothes. Plus, in my size. Although, who knows what girls leave behind at your place. It’s a tactic, you know? You leave a sock at a guy’s place to have an excuse to come back. Unless you didn’t like it, then you have to accept losing the sock."

He didn’t say anything, opening the wardrobe to find something appropriate for you. You’d been in his bedroom before and didn’t feel the need to look around; nothing had changed inside.

"Do you do this often?" he asked, inspecting a t-shirt. "Use the sock strategy?"

"No," you replied, shrugging. "I’m too straightforward for that. If I like it, I just go back and say 'Let’s do it again' Or I don’t leave at all. I’m a bit of a parasite too."

He chuckled at the comparison and finally handed you some clothes. You didn’t really look at them; you just needed something looser, something you hadn’t danced in for hours at the club.

"You know where the bathroom is, right?"

You confirmed and were about to head in that direction when you stopped.

"Wait," you said, turning back toward him. But then, you turned again, facing him with your back. "The zipper on the dress," you explained, pulling your hair to the front. "I could manage it myself, but I don’t want to risk breaking it. Could you…?"

"Y-yeah," he agreed after a moment, stepping closer.

He stood just behind you, reaching for the top of your back. Before he pulled the zipper down, there was a moment where he simply paused, unmoving. Your knees suddenly trembled, almost impatiently. Then, he tugged at the zipper, unfastening the dress, and the coolness and freedom teased your skin.

You could have said thank you and headed to the bathroom, but you didn’t. Something kept your body rooted in place, right there next to him, feeling the pads of his fingers on the lower part of your dress.

Even his breath, louder and irregular.

When you began to, slightly disappointed, assume that he wouldn’t do anything more, his lips found a spot on your neck, kissing it slowly. You inhaled deeply, your head instinctively tilting back, giving him more access, as if you had been waiting for just that. He stopped for a longer time in this specific place, pressing on it harder, as you barely hold a groan.

Your breath was given a free rollercoaster ride.

You reached your hand back, wrapping it around his head and pulling him closer to you. You felt him sigh directly into your skin, leaving another two hungry kisses on an exposed skin on your shoulder. God, why were you still wearing that dress?

You abruptly stopped, turning around and almost hitting the top of your head against his jaw. You didn't care about it, and the thought of apologizing never crossed your mind, just simply pushed him, planting a strong kiss right on his lips.

The clothes he gave you slipped from your hand and fell to the floor, but neither of you were concerned about it, as you were both too absorbed to care. You pushed him again, this time onto the bed, on which he sat, surprised by your suddenness. You saw red marks creeping onto the parts of the neck exposed by the undone shirt.

"Spencer, Spencer, Spencer," you said, shaking your head in a mock reprimand. He tilted his head to the side, unsure of where you were going with this, his fingers impatiently brushing your waist on both sides. "You lied to me."

Your hands grabbed his face, positioning just under his jaw and lifting it upward so you could find his lips right against yours.

“I lied to you?”

"“That's right. You said you don't read romances. But tell me, how does someone who doesn't do that know such practices?”

“Practices?” he repeated again, surprised."

His gaze was focused solely on your lips to which he tried to get closer, but you hadn't allowed him to yet.

"This whole unbuttoning of the dress. And then, the neck”

With your index finger, you traced along the skin on his neck

“Did you like it?” he asked, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. He removed one hand from your waist and took your hand, the one you had been playing with.

“Did I like it?” you scoffed with a genuine laugh.“I’m like half naked now. Answer that for yourself”

Undressing was the element you hated the most. You became impatient and couldn't understand why your clothes couldn't just disappear from you, instead of threatening to burn your already overheated skin. Spencer didn't help, so slow in his movements. You had a feeling he was doing it on purpose. He probably enjoyed watching you struggle to untangle yourself from the dress. He waited a minute before helping you, effortlessly pulling it over your head.

Maybe slow wasn't the most accurate description.The way he touched his body wasn’t slow. It was like rationing a treat, breaking it into small pieces and savoring them one by one. Meanwhile, it gazed straight into your mouth, shouting, eat me!

It required incredible self-control and composure, but it resulted in something more than just pleasure. When he found himself right between your legs, his lips touching gently every single inch of your thigh and refusing to go further despite your pleas, you compared him to the previous guys you slept with. With them, on the other hand, you had to tell them to slow down, to do everything more carefully, and not to focus solely on their own needs.

“Does it feel right?” He asked, briefly lifting his gaze, his hands gripping your thighs.

Your back arched, probably enough of an answer, but you confirmed it with a soft moan.

"I'd rather you said it out loud. Does it feel right?"

"That's edging on sadism, do you realize that?" you whimpered, trying to release the tension by pulling at his hair.

He stopped again.

"Please, do it again."

It wasn't something he had to beg for.

The rest went similarly. You liked how his confidence and courage grew, but you also went wild when, at certain moments, the same gentle and sometimes awkward Spencer returned. It was a perfectly balanced mix.

"Can you talk to me more?" he asked over time, once he was already inside you. "I want to know how you feel about all of this." After those words, your forehead twitched slightly as you felt the onset of pain. "Does it hurt?"

"No," you whispered, accompanied by a faintly tired exhale.”A little. But it's normal I just didn't have sex for a while”

"No, it shouldn't hurt you. Do you want to stop?"

"Just... give me a moment."

He slowed down, almost stopping. You took a breath,pressing your forehead to his. You stayed like that for a moment, neither of you in a hurry. After all, where to? Outside, the night still reigned, long and patient, winter’s grip holding steady. You liked having his face so close to yours, joining them together and not speaking. For the first time, you could truly say that you enjoyed the silence.

You had always considered silence overwhelming, incapable of calming the chaos that arose in your mind. You preferred moments of wildness, loud sounds, and fast pace, but it was in that silence, which fell then, that you found a peace filled with intimacy.

You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck.

"It's okay, I'm ready."

After everything, you simply lay facing each other, tangled in one another. Actually, you didn’t like that expression "after everything." After everything—after what exactly? Sex wasn’t just about the physical act; it also included the long moment before and the even more significant one after. It was precisely that moment after which revealed the true you both. How much you cared for each other and how much you meant to each other beyond the bed. That was often missing in one-night stands; the perspective of quickly disappearing from each other's lives and being forgotten somehow intensified selfishness in people.

Lying there, you played with the hair on his forehead.

"You know, they say this is the moment when people are the most honest with each other."

"Do you want to squeeze a few secrets out of me?" he asked.

"Just one," you said mysteriously, turning onto your back. Before that, you noticed his eyebrows furrow.

He propped himself up on his elbow to look at you again.

"Which one?"

You pretended to hesitate before answering. You tried with all your might to keep the smile from appearing on your face, betraying you.

"I'm afraid that even now, you won't be honest with me."

"I'm starting to get worried."

"I'll tell you, but you have to promise to tell the truth. Give me your pinky."

"What?"

"A pinky promise, you fool."

“O-okay”

Clearly surprised, he did what you asked.

"Now tell me the truth. You got any romance books at your place you're too embarrassed to admit to?"

He rolled his eyes.

"I'll find them," you teased. "I’ll get up right now and find them."

You pretended to get up, but he pulled you closer, preventing you from moving.

"You're not going anywhere."

i know some of you were curious about this fanfiction, so I'm tagging it.

@nightfullofparadox @bloodredrubyrose @lillaberry @miriamnox @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

#criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x oc #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #bau team #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut

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starcurtain · 1 month ago

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Teyvat's "Most Down Bad" Award Goes to Alhaitham for a Second Year Running

Seeing everyone making fun of Alhaitham for his "stalkerish" tendencies in this event is funny, because I feel like a lot of people missed that "Be literally everywhere Kaveh is" has been Alhaitham's MO from the day Kaveh appeared in the game.

From only grabbing his house keys after Kaveh returned from the desert (he couldn't have had both sets of keys at the end of the Archon Quest unless he went home and got Kaveh's copy) to ditching conversations to get back to his house only after Kaveh came home, to showing up without any warning or explanation in Kaveh's hangout with some ridiculous excuse about hearing his voice through noise-cancelling headphones... Refusing to offer any help in the Temple of Silence story quest other than staying in the library with Kaveh...

Since when does Alhaitham willingly cover anyone else's duties?

But this trend of "Be everywhere Kaveh is" didn't start when they were adults. It was already in place when they were still Akademiya students--and it's a trend that didn't end even when they had their fight.

Even when they weren't speaking, Alhaitham dogged Kaveh's every step through published responses to Kaveh's research articles in academic journals. He insisted on keeping a line of communication between himself and Kaveh open, even if the only way to do that was through very public ideological clashes. Pulling Kaveh's pigtails to get his attention lolol. It's implied that, for at least the few years between their fight and Kaveh moving in, this was the only communication between them--Alhaitham's refusal to allow their connection to entirely fade away. (And the fact that this is revealed in Kaveh's character stories--through his precious journal that records the moments of his life that had the most impact on him--shows just how deeply he values the fact that Alhaitham didn't give up.)

Another relevant side note: Alhaitham never asked Kaveh to give up his half of their house. Knowing half of it belonged to Kaveh, knowing that Kaveh may one day want to reclaim his part of it, knowing that it was listed as theirs, Alhaitham moved into the house and made zero effort to change its ownership. He was completely fine with living in "his and Kaveh's house." The stories suggest it was only months later (or even longer) that Kaveh even noticed he had the house, and he transferred away ownership of his portion without Alhaitham ever asking him (or even seemingly wanting him) to do so.

Please, let that sink in. Alhaitham actively left his grandmother's (presumably comfortable) house to move into "his and Kaveh's house," with no apparent explanation for why, and after doing so, he made no attempt to change that "his and Kaveh's" label. He moved into the house with no promise that Kaveh wouldn't show up on the doorstep the very next day and move in too. It almost feels like another deliberate provocation--I've moved into our house, are you going to come stop me? LBR, if Alhaitham had had his way, Kaveh would have been living there with him from Day 1...

There's also the fact that Kaveh literally can't write on a single message board anywhere in the entire nation of Sumeru without Alhaitham hunting his messages down and responding to them (which absolutely no one else does, by the way).

"NUH-UH!" "UH-HUH." "NUH-UH!"

Alhaitham's own character stories tell us explicitly that one of Alhaitham's defining character traits is "He is never where you need him to be," yet somehow...

Shot, and chaser:

Any time Kaveh is in the slightest bit of need or danger or just wants Alhaitham near, Alhaitham is "coincidentally" exactly where Kaveh needs him to be, whenever Kaveh needs him to be there.

Alhaitham didn't just "happen" to run into Kaveh in Port Ormos, an entirely different city from where he was supposed to be working. He didn't just "happen" to read the same terrible book as Kaveh when we know he otherwise would not waste a moment of his time on poorly-written literature...

He didn't just "happen" to appear when Kaveh was upset and needed a distraction in the House of Daena during Kaveh's hangout. He didn't just "happen" to be sitting around waiting when Kaveh needed answers after the Archon Quest. He didn't just "happen" to find Kaveh's academic publications and every single message board posting and respond to them at length and in public.

The only person for whom Alhaitham just "happens" to be available is Kaveh, over and over and over again--because he is very deliberately making himself a constant presence in Kaveh's life.

Which is exactly what Kaveh's mother told Kaveh he needed.

(Like, out of all things, I think people really underestimate the devs deliberately paralleling the romantic relationship between Kaveh's mother and father with Kaveh and Alhaitham's relationship. If you want to point to one thing that says "These two characters are intentionally queer-coded," it doesn't get any more obvious than this.)

Alhaitham, are you not embarrassed to be this transparent??? 🫣

#genshin impact #haikaveh #kavetham #alhaitham #kaveh #I wasn't even looking for half these screencaps #I was just scrolling through the content and “Oops; there's another one”#imagine thinking it's a “coincidence” to run into someone in a desert that stretches hundreds to thousands of miles #I say this in the most positive way possible #but I think Alhaitham might actually need an intervention #bro is reading PULP FICTION for a man #checking the message boards daily for updates from a dude he already lives with #skipping work to do favors for his favorite #I would say his Kaveh hyper-focus is impacting his quality of life #but Kaveh IS his quality of life so...#do you think the merchants in the market are getting savvy #when they see Alhaitham coming they're just like #“Oh Mister Alhaitham! Mister Kaveh was really admiring this painting the last time he came through--”#how many times do you think Alhaitham's brought home new foods only to never buy them again because Kaveh didn't like them?#we could end world deforestation with Alhaitham's pining alone

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yuvany · 3 months ago

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ENHYPEN BEING JEALOUS

Jealous bf!𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍

OT7 ENHYPEN x female reader . GENRE / WARNING(S) :: est relationship + possessiveness + fluff + not proofread && WORD COUNT ;; 680 ;; CHECK BOX !!

yu-note : started writing this during BTHB release, finally decided to publish it widbcib

( reblogs + feedback always appreciated !! )

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

You guys were our with with your friends and a couple of other people invited at the arcade. Heeseung sees a boy eyeing you from afar and he glares at him while he approaches you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Why so sudden?" You ask, the action piqued you interest. "I just don't want anyone to steal you sway from me." He grumbles, and you raise an eyebrow cluelessly. "What do you mean?" You see his pretty eyes shift towards a guy by the polo table who immedietly looks away after seeing you both turn to him.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

Bluntly says, "I don't like him," after you return to him from chatting with someone else at the function. "Who?" you ask, trying to hear what he says over all the surrounding conversations. "That guy you just spoke to. He's too friendly." Jay points out and you can't contain your giggles at how he's acting right now. "Sweetie, don't be ridiculous, he has a girlfriend." Jay is still cautious and says, "So? You're too perfect not to like." while sliding his finger in between yours as his eyes trail your hands, his fingers curcling your knuckles. "Sometimes, jealous Jay is entertaining," you joke.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

During picnic in the park, you two come across a guy from your chem class, and he approached you two first during the lovely date, ruining it all for Jake.. You try to usher him away, and when he finally does, Jake asks. "Are you sure he's just a friend?" You sigh and nod your head, tired by the fact that he even asked. "Of course he is, sweetie." "Well, that's what they all say." he shrugs carelessly and you shake your head. "If it really bothers you, I might consider stop speaking to him." Jake almost instantly gave you the puppy eyes, and you gave in.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

It wasn't evident that he's jealous until you pay extra close attention to his behaviour. Not only was he less touchy, but he refrained from speaking with you at all costs. You saw him make eye contact with you, and usually he'd light up, but not this time. "Hoon? Why are you so cold? Have I done something?" You ask, not liking the tense atmosphere. "I don't know. You tell me." You feel offended by his question. "Is it about () ?" You see him nod, and you rest your hands on your hips. "I'll stop being close with him then." You sigh and Sunghoon gives you a kiss..

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Sunoo hugs you from behind, his arms engulfing you around the waist. "Am I not pretty enough for you?" He asks with an underlying tone in his voice that's sharp like fangs. "Of course you are. What makes you say otherwise, baby?" You ask, letting yours hands find and rest on his. "I just don't like seeing you with that guy, he gives me the creeps." Sunoo mocks shivers running down his spine and you chuckle. "Alright, if you say so, but we're just friends, you know?" Sunoo rolls his eyes. "Yeah yeah."

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

"You know I love you, angel, and I hate to say this, but Who was he?" You hear Jungwon question scincerily after you returned home. "He's a guy from my class. He just accompanied me home, babe." You answer, knowing that he is jealous. "You could've called me, you know?" He leans his head on your shoulder and you chuckle. "I just didn't wanna disturb you." You say and Jungwon clicks his tounge, "you're never a disturbance to me."

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

"Should I be scared that I've competition?" He jokes, crossing his arms as he nudges your shoulder. "Competition?" You echo, not sure by what he means. "That guy is testing me, babe." He explains and you look over at the said 'guy'. "Don't look at him." Riki hisses while gently turning you to face him again by the chin. "Ok ok, I won't speak to him anymore ." You sigh at last, and he smiles at you widely.

TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa

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diamondcitydarlin · 4 months ago

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Just fair warning- I said on my personal post about this that I wasn't going to talk about Neil Gaiman anymore, but as it's becoming clear that him and his publishers and anyone else who makes money off of him is circling the wagons and trying to bury these allegations, as well as some fans still defending and trying to 'rationalize' this information, I feel like, actually, we need to keep talking about him (as much as I cannot stand him and feel physically disgusted now when I so much as see his face somewhere). Specifically, the fact that he's a liar, master manipulator and should not, under any circumstances, be given access to his fans like he has in the past. At the very least. (And if you need to blacklist his name or even unfollow me so as to not be triggered, I completely understand, but I will always try to tag these posts accordingly and I think it's crucial right now that the truth be put where people can see)

This post specifically is in response to those 'rationalizations' I've seen, some that have gone as far as to blame the young fans/groupies that hooked up with him for being 'golddiggers' or just making a mountain out of a molehill for something they now regret. It's not that simple, yall. (And, again, this requires some amount of completely ignoring the story about him extorting his tenant for sex under threat of eviction of her and her three young children, I'm not sure how you 'rationalize' that under the best of circumstances)

So let's be clear here. What we know is that NG has routinely, for possibly an upwards of 30 years, pulled sexual 'partners' from his fan groups, most of whom are 18-22 year old young women (though possibly younger, accounts are coming forward of 16 year olds having allegedly been inappropriately touched/flirted/propositioned by him, which ig is the age of consent in the UK but still?? 16 year olds!!). This wasn't one or two times in the course of three decades, this was a constant pattern of behavior for him and for a very insidious reason.

This isn't to try to infantilize those fans or young women/young people in general or try to suggest that they couldn't have consented to sex with an older person or famous person. In fact, the onus isn't on them at all. This is about an older guy with a lot of fame, power and wealth choosing to sleep with people that he had already conditioned to idolize him and using that power imbalance to coerce them into doing things they didn't want to.

Regardless of one's age or gender identity, it can be difficult to impossible to say 'no' to someone like that. After all, you've been 'chosen' by the chosen one, you're special and not like everyone else, and if you don't do what the popular person everyone trusts is telling you to do you could end up ostracized. Alienated. Or worse. And you know what? Gaiman knew that! He knew it when he was crafting his 'approachable dad' persona on tumblr. He knew it when he was cultivating a fandom of personality. He knew it when he was having huge meetups to try to ensnare more victims. I hate to even think it, but I'm starting to believe he knew it when he was writing children's books too.

It's been talked about again and again in separate issues, but needless to say something not being strictly illegal does not make it inherently, morally okay. It does not erase the fact that this man has been essentially grooming his fandom to feel safe meeting/speaking with him so he can coerce those he can snare into sexual acts they're not comfortable with. That is predator behavior, whether strictly 'illegal' in the eyes of a court or not (but ofc I think he should be criminally punished even if I'm not naive enough to think he actually will be, because this IS rape and rape should be criminally punished)

I'm not personally advocating for anyone to give up being in his related fandoms, but what I am personally advocating for is that people don't forget who he is and what he's capable of, especially when he tries to crawl back to where he was (I'm almost certain he will eventually, as I've said).

Again, at the very least, we need to use what little influence we do have to keep him from infiltrating fan spaces again. He should not be on tumblr yukking it up with young people, he should not be at public appearances hitting on teenagers, he should not be given the unrestricted access to fans that he's 'enjoyed' for the past 30+ years because he is not a safe person. While I wish there was more in the way of restorative justice that could be done, I think at very, very least we should do what we can to limit his proximity to people he could hurt in the future. Make sure no one forgets, because sweeping this under the rug means Gaiman gets to hurt more people.

Lastly, no one is the wrong for having been manipulated by him. Let's make that very clear. What we're NOT gonna do is blame ourselves, each other, the victims, etc, for evil acts that Gaiman chose to do himself, time and time and time again. It doesn't help the situation and it certainly doesn't protect future potential victims. We were all duped because we're human and we attach and a lot of us want to believe there are good people out there, particularly those who make art that means so much to us.

And there are. But let's also use this a teaching/learning tool about how much faith we place in famous people in the future, regardless of how 'approachable' and 'safe' they might seem. Let's remember to have a healthy suspicion of creators/famous people that are oddly immersed in fandom spaces- yes, even the ones you still currently like that seem fine, as difficult as that may seem.

At the end of the day, we don't know them or what they're capable of doing or what they might be plotting to do to us. Support victims. Amplify their voices. Don't forget.

#neil gaiman #tw neil gaiman #tw sa #tw victim blaming #neil gaiman allegations #ya actually im not gonna shut up about this #bc that's exactly what he wants #fuck off into the sun forever

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norwegianvisagecrusher · 1 year ago

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I made a potholder! But this isn't any old potholder, it's my reconstruction of a potholder my great grandma made in the 40s.

My potholder is made with cotton yarn so it won't melt like her acrylic yarn has, and I didn't use rubber Mason jar rings as the basis of my rings like she did. The green and orange is her original potholder.

As you can see, it's been though some things and the rubber rings on the inside are starting to degrade to the point where I'm uncomfortable handling it.

This was my first time making a pattern from someone else's finished object and I had a lot of fun. I'm sure my great grandma used a published pattern, but I couldn't find one on APL or on Ravelry.

I've put the pattern up on my Ravelry store for free if anyone is interested. It's not pattern tested or anything, so be aware of that.

#Mak Crochets #Crochet #vintage

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writingquestionsanswered · 5 months ago

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Not to be a downer, but I actually finished my novel and now I’m confused because I don’t want to publish it. I don’t even particularly want anyone other than maybe my two close friends to even read it. What on Earth did I write 40k words (which I know is not really long enough for a novel, but it’s still far and away the longest thing I’ve ever written) for? I know people say “write for yourself” but like… am I just wasting my time? Help?

(p.s. you can leave this off anon)

(p.p.s your blog is really great 👍)

There's No Such Thing as Wasted Writing

I'm going to tackle this two ways...

#1 - "Write For Yourself" - there's a reason this common phrase has echoed through the Hall of Writers since time immemorial. It's because it's true! Writing doesn't have to be anything more than a pastime. It doesn't have to be anything more than something you do for your own benefit and enjoyment.

I have an in-joke with family members about how any time one of us does something the least bit crafty, DIY, skilled, whatever, a particular family member will always say, "You did a great job! You should do it for a living!" Like, someone can't even crochet a Kawaii mushroom without being pressured to turn it into an Etsy dynasty, or paint a cabinet without being pressured to become the next Property Brothers. And that's such a BANANAS capitalistic mindset, isn't it? This idea that nothing can be done purely for our own enjoyment. That you can't just write a novel because you want to... you can only write it if you plan to share it or publish it? It's just so silly.

And, the thing is, we don't even apply that mentality to a lot of other things people do purely for enjoyment. No one is streaming all of Bridgerton in two nights and saying, "I enjoyed every second of that, but why did I do that? Such a waste of time!" No one spends an hour strumming their guitar under the stars on a beach, and then says, "That was so relaxing and fun, but I didn't charge for that performance and I didn't record it to sell it, so that was obviously a waste of time."

You know what I mean?

#2 - And Anyway, Practice Makes Perfect - And if you keep writing--even if you continue not to share or publish--you'll get better and better with each story you write. Which, maybe all that means is you get to appreciate your own improvement, but also, should you ever change your mind and decide to write something to share or publish, you've now spent time honing your skills. Even if those other stories never see the light of day, they're still an important foundation of the writer you become. Do you know how many unpublished novellas, novels, and short stories I have? Too many to count. Hundreds of fan-fiction and original fiction short stories I've only shared with one or two other people, if anyone. A dozen or so novels and novellas that have only been read by a few people, and some haven't been read by anyone else or have only been read by my CPs. I would never consider those stories and novels and novellas to be a waste of time, because I know every single one made me a better writer. My published work is better because I wrote those other things.

So, I hope that makes you feel better. At the very least you hopefully enjoyed writing your novel--or at least got something out of it--and you definitely honed your writing skills, which matters! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

#wqaadvice

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starlightsuffered · 5 months ago

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The Smart Rosier

Warnings- smut, unprotected sex, slut shaming, name calling and trash talk during sex, oral (male receiving), dom male, spitting in mouth, teasing, mentions of alcohol, publish sex, mentions of masturbation, mentions of drugs, calling male Master, begging, dry humping, rough sex, choking, hair pulling, mouth fucking, desperate, fucking in front of a mirror

Pairing - Regulus Black/Fem!Reader Rosier

I knocked back a firewhisky. Evan looked at me in admiration.

"You didn't even make a face," he said in awe. He had, had too much of the plant that someone had snuck from the Herbology Green House.

"Yeah, it's almost like I like to party," I chuckled. Every weekend my cousin seemed to forget I was the queen of partying. He was such a lightweight.

"By the way," Evan said. "I need to give you your weekly reminder."

"I'm so fucking sick of this," I snapped, grabbing another shot.

"I can't trust you, you've run through half of Slytherin house," he snapped.

"Slut shaming much," I said, downing the alcohol.

"Not shaming, just begging. Please don't fuck my best friend," he said.

"Why do you give a shit," I hedged. To be honest, Regulus Black was the finest Slytherin in the whole house. I'd had a crush on him for ages.

"You're gonna make him obsessed with you. He'll never want to talk to me again," he complained.

"You whine too much," I snapped, as I stood up to dance. I went to the dance floor. I was moving my hips, and feeling myself. Suddenly, I felt hands on my waist.

"Hello?" I asked, in a sultry tone. I turned to see him. Regulus Black.

"I don't often see you at these parties," I said with a smirk.

"Maybe I saw something that caught my eye," he purred. He was gorgeous. Emerald robes, black curls, a sexy smirk. How was I meant to resist? It was impossible.

"You know, my cousin says to stay away from you," I said.

"Do you wanna listen to Rosier?"

"I'm a Rosier too you know," | chuckled.

"Yes, but you're the smart one," he said.

"Well, all I know is, I wanna feel you," I said, as I pressed a hand against his chest. "Whatever you'll give me, I want it."

"Come to the bathroom with me," he ordered. I was more than happy to oblige.

"You tease me all the time," he growled at me, when he got me alone.

"Hmmm, does it bother you? Do I bother Regulus Black when I wear tiny skirts? Do I bother the Slytherin Quidditch Captain when I dance? Do I bother the Head Boy when I lick my lips slowly at dinner? So important. A Black, even a pure blood, yet I have you whipped."

He was taking deep breathes, as though he could hardly handle what I said.

"You should be taught a lesson," he snarled.

"By all means," I bowed. "Teach me."

I was slammed against the door roughly. He was giving me a hard bruising kiss. His hand was on my jaw, holding it open. He spat into my mouth, and I took it gladly. His hand moved down to my throat as he ground his clothed length against me. I moaned.

"You're such a slut aren't you, I bet you think of me all the time and you touch yourself," he snapped.

"How did you know," I said after he released my throat.

"Running through the whole year, but never me huh?"

"Saving the best for last," I replied.

"Clothes off," he demanded. I swished my wand and I was naked before him. I could see his hardness through his robes.

"What a pretty little cock whore," he smirked. "All your good for is to be used."

I nodded, and fell to my knees. I could tell he liked my willing nature."From now on, your mine, you're not going to touch anyone else, understood?"

"Yes master," | agreed, and I heard him moan at the name.

"I rather like that coming from you," he said as he waved his wand so that he was also naked. His cock stood at attention, veiny and long, I was salivating. I took him into my mouth.

"Eager," he ground out as I bobbed my head. He was gripping the sink, hissing in pleasure. My tongue circled the head of his cock expertly. His hand grabbed my hair hard, so that tears pricked my eyes. He was thrusting into my mouth now. Suddenly, he stopped.

"Get up," he demanded. He whirled me around, so now I was gripping the sink.

"Look at you," he said. I looked in the green studded mirror. My mascara was running from the tears in my eyes, saliva dripped down my chin, my hair was in tangles from his hands.

"Suck a good slut," he said, hands running down my form from behind. They reached my heat and he chuckled.

"You're dripping darling," he said before beginning to put pressure on my clit.

"Please, Regulus," | begged. His fingers danced around the sensitive bundle of nerves. He was absolutely infuriating, but I would wait it out. Anything to have him fully at some point.

Just then I felt the tip of his cock at my entrance. He was still teasing! Pushing his tip in, only to remove it. Tears of desperation stung in my eyes.

"Apologize," he whispered in my ear before kissing my neck. "Apologize for all the things you've put me through."

"I'm so, oh Regulus, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me," | blubbered.

"Now I wanna hear you beg," he said cruelly.

"Please Regulus, I want your cock. I want you to fill me, Regulus, Master, please," I pleaded.

"More," he said, and grabbed one of my tits roughly, kneading the flesh.

"Please Regulus, impale me with your cock. I wanna be full. I want you inside me. I can't live if you don't fuck me right now. I'd die to have your cock in me. Please!"

"Alright darling," he said, and finally pushed into me. I screamed in pleasure, and Regulus didn't seem interested in quieting me.

"The whole party is going to know how good I make you feel," he laughed as he began to thrust in and out.

"You're so big, ah," I was white knuckling the sink as he slammed into me. I couldn't believe the spots he was hitting. I felt like I was on a whole other plane of existence.

"Has anyone else ever fucked you this good?" He demanded as he kept up his ungodly speed.

"Never," was all I could get out. He began to massage my nipples, bringing me even more thrills of sensation.

"Fuck, Regulus, you're a God!" I whimpered as he thrust into me.

"That's right I am," he said and his hand went up to my neck, and put pressure on it.

"Watch yourself darling, watch yourself come undone."

His words nearly had my eyes rolling back into my head, but I did as he commanded. He was a dark figure behind me, an expression of pure lust on his face. His hand dropped from my neck to my clit and I was shaking.

My orgasm washed over me, and I lost all control, screaming his name and seeing white. I was vaguely aware of him cursing and cumming inside me. When I came down, his cum was dripping down my thighs.

"That was so good," I panted, legs wobbly. We used our wands to clean up and walked out. Evan was waiting for me, arms crossed, a furious expression on his face.

"Sorry cousin," I said patting his cheek. "Your best friend has a great cock."

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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First off I LOVE your writing, I’m so happy you’re taking requests again so, may I please request something with Ghost? Like the reader is part of the 141 and Ghost has a soft spot for her and is very protective of her and both having feelings for each other but not saying anything bc both think the other one deserves better or just something like that🥹😮‍💨💖🙏🏻 feel free to keep practicing smut for this one!👀✨

You’re awesome 🥰💞

Blood Was Its Avatar

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Getting close to you was never his plan, but when he can't stop his self-protective instincts from pushing you away, will he be able to repair your strange friendship? Or will his body have to speak for him? (18+)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, wounds, stitches, death, smut, p in v, throat f-ing, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, implied pain kink, hair pulling, hate sex? but not really?, semi-clothed sex, vulgar language, fluff at the end, etc. just pure filth.

A/N: This is sub-par because I was up until 4 in the morning today and didn't have the energy to edit in-depth lmfao, but enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

All of Ghost’s problems started and ended with you. He was impressed with that fact, actually.

They call you ‘Masque’ on account of the mission from years back, ‘07 Ghost recalls easily. When you’d been pinned down and surrounded, the dead bodies of your unit all around your feet. You’d chosen to act while the others had been yelling orders over the radio—rooting around the pooling blood on the ground and slathering your face with it; your body.

You pretended to be dead.

Quick thinking, Ghost had told you with a glint in his eye when you’d gotten back, those whites of your eyes ten times more noticeable. Like the moon hanging around a crimson-drowned sky.

You’d cursed him out and said of course it was, quoting some poem from Edgar Allen Poe as a joke.

“Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood.” The Masque of the Red Death. Your claim to survival apparently, as you had just read it a day before.

Ghost said you were bloody fucking crazy and found his eyes darkly watching the way you smirked at him. How the dried blood on your lips would splinter at your loud chuckle as you both entered the C17.

As he knew—all of his problems started and ended with you. Today was no different.

“Damn! Lookin’ good today Ghost, are those new gloves I spy?” You were always so…bubbly.

“Masque,” the masked-man greats blandly, not even sparing you a look as you enter the meeting room. The screen on the far wall was hooked up to Price’s computer—broadcasting its news out into the dim lighting with images of mayhem and a loop of a video containing the bombing of an embassy building in the Netherlands.

Profile pictures stain the screen of wanted subjects; captured or killed in the crossfire made no difference here, anyone could see it.

You drop down into the seat beside his own with a huff, body shed of your usual black gear, and wearing casual fatigues instead—your tags jump on your chest and Ghost sees them glint in the light.

Your face shifts into a smile, prodding with a bump of your elbow. The Lieutenant turns and glares dryly while you carry on, “I asked if you got new gloves; they’re nice.”

“Needed ‘em.” Ghost drawls, seeing no way out of this as he glances around at the multitude of other free seats. No one else was here yet, and Price had needed to step out for a moment to grab another report from his office one floor up.

A small grunt echoes from his throat before his eyes dart back to yours. Shifting in his seat, his lax posture tenses before loosening.

Raising a brow at Ghost, you stifle a laugh.

“That’s it?” He blinks at you slowly, those bright blues trapping you as they shine out from his skeletal visage; his great body hidden under layers of Kevlar and thick canvas cloth. Like some weird and deadly present. You tease him, “No attempt at a conversation, Ghosty? That hurts.”

You sarcastically put a hand to your chest.

“Then suffer.” Ghost states like he’s reading the newspaper, stretching out one of his wrists by rolling it until it cracks the joints. Where was everyone else? “I’m not fuckin’ talking about bloody gloves, Masque.”

“It’s called a conversation starter!” Under the mask, he raises a dull eyebrow. You glower at him, but the smirk on your lips shows how much you enjoy this.

“For who? Could have jus’ stayed quiet, then.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes and indulge him—pointedly going silent. Almost immediately an awkward nothingness covers the room with its metaphorical blanket and Ghost’s muscles slowly go stiff as he crosses his arms slowly over his chest. You bite your lip and stamp down a snort.

A minute spreads like molasses. Two. Three. Five.

“Alright,” Ghost growls, breaking as you pick at your cuticles, humming horribly off-tune to a point where the Lieutenant’s ears were ringing and annoyance faired. “Fucking hell stop it, just say something already to shut up that noise. Sounds like my damn brakes squealin’.”

You stop and laugh loudly, elbowing him again as he jerks away with a low grunt. Blue flashes, and his heart pounds.

“Jeez, Lieutenant, is my humming that bad for you?” The air rolls with tension.

“More effective than torture.” Ghost utters, his Manchester drawl violent and thick as it coats your ears. You take no offense—you’d been doing it on purpose, anyways; always the one to exploit cracks in the concrete. You'd found out a lot through your studies of the man beside you. Mostly, all of the small tics and unique qualities that made Ghost such a strange character.

On the battlefield, the large man was resilient and patient. He could wait in one spot for days if he had to, sitting for a perfect shot. Nothing could break the line of purpose and authority he had over the units he was placed in or his fighting spirit. Gunbattles, torture, you name it he’d survived it.

But he disliked anything below scalding hot tea, detested his objects and packs being messed with…and clenched his hidden jaw at small, repetitive, noises.

Low, horrible, humming, tapping fingers, tongues clicking over and over. You had no idea why, but the sight of making this experienced and handsome man glare at you with annoyance made your face heat up.

You chuckle in the meeting room, eyes crinkling up at him before you reach for one of the pens and notepads on the table. Clicking the bottom, you shrug and start to scribble nothing into the side margins as blue ink bleeds like foreign blood.

“What’s Price got for us today, then?” Your voice echoes, “We shipping out with the others or going Black again?”

The Captain usually paired the two of you up for Black Ops for a reason—Ghost the strategic mastermind to your reckless bloodlust. Push and pull.

Missions were rarely a failure.

Ghost sighs, finally getting the sensation of control back into him. “Black,” he begins, “least for us. Old Man’s sending Garrick and Johnny out in hopes of drawin’ a few bastards out first. Netherlands. We slip in the back—off the books, ‘course.”

He watches you from the side of his eye, gaze following your pen as you sketch out a small stick figure with a skull for a face. Ghost stifles a huff as he scratches at the side of his face.

“Well, of course,” you slyly tease, glancing at him before looking back to your pad. “Are we getting any soldiers?”

“None. Just us.”

“Ooo,” Ghost watches your lips curl and feels his body slowly still. “Sounds like fun.”

“It sounds like I’m going to have to babysit again,” you laugh again and dark blue seems to spark with some strange emotion. Ghost clears his throat and takes down a breath.

“Oh, please,” you chuckle, “I’ve saved your hide a few times before, Ghosty, be nice to me.”

“Nice isn’t in the job description, Masque.”

“Well, it isn’t for you, grumpy. I think Johnny and Gaz are lovely.” Your nose tilts up teasingly as Ghost grumbles like a cat. “But that’s alright, I like you anyways.” Winking, you go back to your pointless scribbling as footsteps echo from the hallway.

Ghost stares, his hands on the armrests slowly clenching into fists as he studies your expression. His eyes slid over scars and blemishes he’d already looked at a million times over, seeing in his mind’s eye the stains of blood and that every present smile—the burn of your presence beside him like a brand in his stomach. You never seemed to let him get too far away from you on Ops, but it wasn’t some form of obsession. It was worry; he’d seen it.

You didn’t like it when you couldn’t see his back ahead of yours. Ghost guessed it had to do with your lost unit. He never pressed it.

In fact, he’d noticed himself not eager to see you off himself. Had spent many a night in the onsite gym after missions because of it, where he’d given you the cold shoulder after. He didn’t like that feeling. That hesitation.

Ghost knew only to trust people as much as he had to…so why did he like when you said nice things to him? His jaw clenches, shoulders rolling to dispel tension as he rips his eyes away from your body as if you were fire incarnate. Your head perks up at the sound of talking voices getting closer to the meeting room.

Soap and Gaz enter a few moments later and Price shuffles in behind them. You smile warmly and greet them, shifting the notepad closer to yourself nonchalantly.

Ghost grunts and stays stationary, straightening up when he realizes he's slightly leaned toward you during your conversation. His new gloves pull taunt over his knuckles and he suddenly wants to rip them off.

—

You begin to wonder when you’ll be free from blood coating your fingers but know deep down you never will be. At least, not if this was how you’d be getting covered in it.

Sitting inside the hotel bedroom, you slowly extract a blood-coated bullet from Ghost's large thigh, grimacing when he grunts from over you. You’re in between his legs, kneeling, as the metal finally breaks free from the skin barrier—the entry wound is small but nonetheless dangerous. His pants were cut from thigh to knee, a long spit that showed pale, scarred skin.

Keeping a tight grip on the forceps, you hum under your breath in satisfaction.

“No bullet fragments—lucky you.”

Ghost forces out, “Yeah, feelin’ proper lucky.” You chuckle, moving back and dropping the bullet to a food plate you’d put on the floor. Shuffling, you take up the rag placed over your upper arm and bring it back up. Patting the gushing wound, you frown and think back on the events that got you here as the Lieutenant shifts and bites his tongue.

The intensity in his blue eyes burns into you, lungs deeply inhaling with a silent breath. Your fingers tingle, but you diligently press the fabric to the wound and try to ignore the heat from Ghost’s flesh or how his legs flinch with every trail of your nails. His muscles are pure iron around you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the position you’re in.

Swallowing stiffly, you sigh and notice him slightly shiver when your breath caresses his upper leg. You stop immediately, lips going tight.

It had been fifteen minutes earlier when Soap and Gaz had set up in a far more open and less secluded hotel three blocks away—directly across from the base location for your gaggle of targets. As planned, you and Ghost would be off the books and go in when they were too distracted by the Sergeants’ in plain sight.

Fire was supposed to be the cover story. Go in, take care of business, and set the place alight after the area was clear of civilians. But no one was counting on the targets being surrounded by three more friends.

Of course, guns lead to bullets and bullets to flesh. You can still hear the ringing in your head when Ghost had jerked you to the slide and shoved you behind the far wall—skull snapping back to look in horror as his leg exploded with gore.

Fucking bastard had been distracted by you and hadn’t had time to dodge. That wasn’t Ghost, but then again, Ghosty wasn’t quite the same, was he? Least, not to you.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” You huff, something swirling in your chest as your gloves peel the layer of cut pants farther down to see better. “You should have looked after yourself.”

“And what?” Ghost grumbles, letting you do what you wanted to him. “Let you get fuckin’ shot, Masque—you have a bloody death wish?” His last word comes off with a growl as you press tighter into his thigh.

His hand instantaneously snaps out to grasp the back of your hair tightly with an instinctual low groan. Naturally, a small whine exits your lips in retaliation.

You both freeze and the room jumps up to a hundred degrees; your lower body flips as your skin burns a million degrees. Fingers still, you feel your breath hitch when his calloused fingers scrape your scalp, your hair in his expansive palm. It was a pure reaction you knew, and when you’d asked him to let you help out with this problem you had thought this might happen—he’s a soldier after all, just like you.

But he hadn’t denied you. If anything, since six missions back, you were the only person who he wanted to work on him. He’d never said why.

You look up at him from the side, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Ghost’s heart skips beats before he clears his throat, snapping his hand back immediately and slamming it to the mattress. A second of strained silence settles where you both try to forget what the fuck just happened.

“Keep bloody going then,” He says, deep and grating to a point where you shove down a shiver. Your head feels light off of his scent, and you have to ask yourself why you’re feeling so feverish all of a sudden.

You bite your lip and nod, hand moving away to grab at the sanitized needle and thread with your forceps—dropping the rag back onto your forearm to let it hang. For once in your life you’re left mute by his actions.

Mute to the fact that you’d liked them.

Your face burns like a hidden fire; epidermis alight with the strength to rival the flames the two of you had started fifteen minutes ago. Lungs stutter and hands inside the gloves go clammy. It’s only after you were halfway done with the stitches that you mutter words.

“Shouldn’t have taken that bullet, Ghost.” He had been stone still the entire time, hands clenched beside him and his thighs like rocks. Feet firmly planted. It was like he was barely breathing, too.

Ghost blankly stares, staying quiet as you continue.

“You were distracted. That never happens.” His form was almost entirely shadowing you; great spanning shoulders from above tight like a looming statue. You dig the needle deeper with a push of the forceps, threading through yielding skin with quick punctures. He doesn’t even flinch.

Ever since ‘07, there was an obvious aversion to partners stemming from you. You distanced yourself from forming close bonds with those who you hadn’t already known. In many ways, Ghost and the others of One-Four-One were the closest you could get to people now.

Ghost, you admit, was far closer than all the others combined.

But this sentiment was known—both the aversion and the care you held. The Lieutenant wasn’t good with words, but he knew how to read you better than anyone; the way you carried yourself. He knew you didn’t like it when he got hurt in front of you.

Ghost had to ask why he even bothered to shove you out of the way, regardless. You would have been fine. So why had his eyes gone wide and his iris flared with a dead glow when he’d seen the gun swivel in your direction? The man grunts at a deep dig from your sutures but you continue to mutter to yourself as he glares at the far wall, venom-like.

His sin was that he had grown to care about you. His burden and his curse.

This couldn’t continue.

Ghost looks down at you with a sheen of distanced nonchalant-ness and when you lent back with a sigh of your lips, his body moved. You blink in surprise as you feel his muscles bunch and before you know it you’re being grabbed harshly by the arms and lightly shoved to the side.

“Ghost!” You snap, eyes narrowing dangerously as he stands to his feet—blood training down his thigh and kneecap before disappearing back under the stained cargos. “What the fuck?! I’m not done with it.”

Attempting to stomp closer, he swivels his head to you as his spine goes formal. Your feet stall from under you and your veins pump faster, forceps and slick gloves freezing mid-air.

You blink. He’d only ever looked at you like that when you’d first met.

Blue is a silent sheen of ice and cold death; black sockets behind his mask are more like voids holding chilled sapphires.

Why was he looking at you like he didn’t know you? Once more you say, confused and suddenly small, “Ghost?”

“Enough.” His voice was monotone and barky, the tone final. Your fingers tense at the sound. What…what was this? “You need to get your head back on, Masque. I can’t watch over you like a bloody Private every time you get stiff-legged, copy?”

Your jaw slackens. Inside, your heart smashes itself into your ribs in a violent pang. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence in which Ghost remains standing with concrete tied to his feet. He sees the flash of confused hurt in your eyes, the way your muscles jump for a moment.

A suffocating wave of regret strikes him, but he felt like he had to do this—keep up boundaries. Even if his throat was closing in an attempt to make him shut up.

Ghost’s accent makes him sound harsh and unforgiving. “Price’ll need us back in fifteen. Get your shit together.”

He bends down and snatches bandages with a quick hand, beelining to the bathroom and closing the door with a firm hand. Blankly, you stare at the barrier as the wall rattles; face burning—unable to speak beyond a small sound in the back of your mouth.

The two of you stay separated for the remainder of the time, not speaking, and not moving from your respective areas.

When Ghost finally leaves ten minutes after he’d pushed back the self-loathing and guilt, freshly bandaged, he finds your stuff already gone. He glances around the area slowly, taking in the wails of the fire trucks from blocks away and the neighboring rooms of the hotel as residents speak in mutters from behind walls. The air is cold and lifeless.

He grabs his things in total silence, swallowing down saliva paired with long breaths. Ghost’s eyes remain tight. Body wound and coated in rigidity that could rival a rhino’s armored plates.

Mind whirling, but still ever mute, he leaves the hotel and heads to the coordinates Price had given the two of you alone. The absence of your warm body beside his was more jarring than anything he’d expected to experience.

Ghost didn’t want to admit how many times his eyes trailed to the empty concrete at his left.

—

When you lose something in someone, you tend to lose it hard. Thus still, that was the case here. Ghost and you always jabbed at each other—it was in your nature to do so—but this was different. The Lieutenant could be cold, but…never to the extent to shove you away from helping him with his wounds.

Both of you always did that with the other, if that be physically or just being in the same room, while getting fixed up.

If Ghost didn’t want you around for whatever rage-inducing reason, you weren't going to grovel or beg. The sudden switch-up still stabbed you in the heart though.

On the second week, it got easier.

You passed by Ghost without a single comment, shifting into the meeting room once more. He grunts as you shimmy through the door right before him, his feet halting before he runs into you.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Masque, you lost your bloody eyes or something?” You don’t answer, blankly walking to the end of the table and taking the single chair with steady steps; sitting down and dragging a notepad to your general area.

Blinking, you look up at the projection and skim the small details they give over.

Ghost stares from the doorway, clenching his jaw. After a moment, he slips inside and slowly strides to the table.

The days had been difficult for him, struggling to re-situate himself to his isolation after you’d been with him for years. Sure he had Johnny, Gaz, and Price, but you were…

Ghost places a veiny hand on the back of a chair about four down from yours, knuckles white as he’d shed his gloves not five minutes ago. His eyes stay stuck to the tabletop, hips shifting. He hadn’t thought it would be this hard to push you out. Not only physically but mentally.

He found himself thinking of your face at night. Like a phantom, it would snap into his consciousness when the lights went out and the shadows got long. Your smile and your skin. How your fingers would gently press into his flesh when you were threading a needle through him—shivers of pleasure and pain intertwined by the scrape of your nails.

Ghost’s hand tightens on the chair, and you spare him a tense glance as he seemingly fights within his mind.

The Lieutenant wonders at your willpower and your drive. He spent the weeks hating that he had gotten what he wanted, and then he hated himself more because of that fact. It was good to keep you away from him. Not only for himself but for you.

You both were becoming too….attached. Ghost would have none of it. It had bled over into him using his own body to protect yours that was just…was just…

“...Those new tags, then?” You look away from the screen and shift your gaze to him as his voice bounces.

Around your neck, the new reflective metal of your new dog tags glint. Your heart skips when he speaks to you, but he still doesn’t look your way.

“That an apology?” Deadpanning, your unimpressed gaze glares into his face as his hand strangles the chair.

The room returns to strained silence. You huff.

“Pretty shitty one there, asshat.” Ghost’s shoulders roll under his gear, a great sigh quickly exiting him. Everyone had noticed the tension over time—it was becoming a detriment to the team.

The Lieutenant’s blue eyes darken, and in his body, a great heat was beginning to burn. Just looking at you provoked lucid and vulgar thoughts, and as the dim light from the projector makes shadows on your face, Ghost traces them with a chained desire. Being away from you was a physical pain to him, but he also knew that being around you was worse.

All of Ghost’s problems may have started and ended with you, but they also grew in his own head. They’d been there in the back corners ever since he’d given you your nickname; found out he liked the way your face was wet with spilled blood and sweat. Your body. Your hands on the hard flesh of his upper thigh…trailing up...

Ghost’s pants get tight as he stares without saying anything. Watching you scribble on your notepad. Glaring.

“Why can’t I get you out of my fucking head?” Your ears twitch at the low growl as if coming from a beast; seconds later, your brain catches up to process the words. Your pen stops its pointless scrawling just as your breath does. Ghost spits out, seeing your form straighten in the chair, “Every bloody thought, you’re right there!”

His boots stomp to the floor, and before you know it a hand is trapping the back of your head, fingers carding through hair to angle your chin up. Your breath gasps out as your wide eyes lock on Ghost’s, his hold tight but not uncomfortable; as if he knows the perfect amount of pressure to make your blood surge and your pupils expand.

You stare into volatile blue with silver flecks, a skeletal mask stained from dirt and blood. Ghost’s thumb digs into your scalp.

“Answer me, Masque,” he grunts, accent so thick you momentarily struggle to string the words together in your stupor.

Ghost’s nose is close to yours; breathing in each other’s air as the temperature rises. Your throat bobs with a swallow. Below you, you feel your legs clench together as the Lieutenant's fingers lightly pull on your roots when you don’t respond—small sparks of electricity run down your spine that make it straighten instinctually. A soft purr flies from your lips; face on fire as your lashes flutter. Your hands clench at the dull pulse in your lower body.

The Brit’s dead eyes stare down at you, glinting; studying you deeply with growing satisfaction in his heart and tension in his boxers.

You both glare half-lidded, panting, and flesh heated.

“Is this your apology?” He tightens his hand and you bite your lip, small whine meeting his ears as he represses a groan at the sound. Your voice was breathy but smug.

“You fucking wanted this, you naughty little beast,” Ghost growls, moving even closer to tower over you. “You’re playin’ me.” You mold into him as you still sit in your chair, your chin set onto his upper abdomen as the midsection of your breasts presses into his crotch; brushing against his hardened bulge firmly.

You shiver at the feeling, your core leaking out slippery fluids to stain through your pants one second at a time. Every twitch of his fingers leaves you wanting to arch into him. Feel him.

Ghost feels your hands go to wrap his open thighs, nails digging into the back of his pants as his mouth opens under the mask to force out air.

“You liked me in between your legs, didn’t you?” Your tiny, teasing, voice serenades him as he quickly begins to lose control of his composure.

“Shut it,” Ghost grunts, mind yelling at him to move away, “Shut your damn mouth.”

Those pupils were so wide his eyes were almost entirely black, feral chest moving quickly.

“I already know why you snapped at me…” One of your hands travels back to the Lieutenant’s front, skin tingling at the scratch of a belt and the rough fabric of his cargos. You leave it over his crotch and add a tight amount of pressure; mouth lightly opening at the weight and size of him as Ghost grunts deeply, thighs jerking forward.

Blinking at his glassy eyes you breathe out into thick air and the veiled threat of something more. His hand in your hair is so tight that you feel your pulse under the tendrils—you enjoy every second of this cat-and-mouse game.

After all, no one knew who the mouse was yet.

You rub your hand up and down and watch Ghost’s clothed dick, feeling his muscles straining to keep himself in control. He lets you continue as he watches with a clenched jaw, his pants getting gradually wet with precum; hips twitching.

“...You can’t get enough of me touching you, can you?” Your statement ignites something immediately, and you’re being grabbed by your shoulders and forced to your feet.

Staring wildly, you cringe at the soaking patch under your clothes but let Ghost place your backside on the table. He presses into your hips to keep you there—legs opened and feet planted to the floor below on their tip-toes.

The man breathes like a lion, nose in front of yours. You slightly smirk at the far-off haze in his eyes, lust and pleasure blending and bleeding into the almost bruising hold he uses to press you down.

He watches you for a minute or two—taking in your scent and the rabid instinct that infects the both of you now that everything was on the table.

You knew you were right; he knew you were right. Licking your lips you look down and stare at his blatant hard-on hungrily. Your brow raises slowly.

“You going to let me take care of that, Ghosty?” He’s up and locking the door after he slims it shut.

“This is it,” Ghost grunts, “one time, Masque. That’s fucking it, you hear?”

“Awe,” You cue, swishing your legs as he stomps back over, hand grasping his belt and whipping it off with a flex of his forearm. Your core tightens, hips trying to press back into the table. “That's so cute. You think once is enough.”

A hand captures your jaw, “I said,” he breathes, the other hand going to shift up the bottom of his mask up to his nose. You gasp at the sight of blond stubble and milky scars. A strong jaw wound like a spring. Ghost’s musk invades your nose and you feel your palms so clammy. “...Shut it.”

Hard lips slam into yours.

Like some game between the two of you, your mouths fight one another with aggressive grunts stuck in your throats, sharp inhales of air between partings. Ghost’s lips mold and conform to yours, clinging around the supple flesh—there’s a deep-rooted intensity, a hunger, and a desire mixed with sweet stubbornness. The tang of metal and old canvas opens to you just as your mouth does when his teeth bite down at your skin.

Quickly sucking down breaths, you feel his tongue push past layers and slip into your awaiting clutch; Ghost groans lowly and explores as his hands bare down into your hips, one making its way to grip at your hair again. Your own dig into his waist as he leans over you.

He latches onto your hair and peels you back from him, tongue sliding out of your mouth as he moves to nip at your chin—angling your head whichever way he wants to. Your skin burns as the man bites down at your neck, hot saliva stuck to your lips as your chest pants fast with a low whine at the mixture of pain and bliss.

Below you, your legs are wide to allow Ghost to stand between you, his firmness leaving your hips canting at every hickey he leaves behind and how he shivers into you as you move against him. It was addicting to him—your taste and how your flesh yields to him as he clamps down on it ruthlessly and rapidly. In no time he’d traveled the length of the area behind your ear and down the swell of your shoulder; shirt pushed back by his nose.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, eyes glassy as you blankly stare into the far wall over the Lieutenant’s shoulder; your panties are soaked through and the evidence can be felt. A long whine exits your chest when Ghost licks at the deep marks he left behind, blown eyes coming back to stare at you head-on as if in a trance.

His lips are red and swollen, mouth open with silent, fast, breaths. His large chest moves quickly over yours. He orders you in a hoarse voice; strained, “Get on your knees.”

Licking your lips your widened gaze stays locked on his, the hand in your hair tight and keeping you away from slamming your mouth back to his. The air is electric, both of your bodies yielding to one another's even if you don’t realize it.

As much as you wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at the comment, to make him apologize to you for what he’s done, you realize that your body has already complied with the request. Slipping off the table, Ghost watches like a hawk and backs up two steps—feet splayed as you move for him. Your knees slowly lower you down to the floor, connecting with the carpet as you sag, fists clenched and shaking.

There’s a small, heart-pounding, pause. “...Good girl.”

Your jaw drops at the smirk on Ghost’s face and those flashing dead eyes of his, blood thumping with a newly ingrained need. You swallow and feel your throat bob; legs shifting to push back the inner-body itch that grows by the second.

“Now you can listen to me, yeah? Such a slut for it.” Ghost’s hands slowly trail to his pant’s zipper, sliding the piece down the teeth with barely audible metal on metal. Your fingers twitch at every small pop; how the zipper itself had to move forward with the strain of his sizable erection. You can’t even look away from it—how his pants are stiff against tense thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up to show the black ink of tattoos.

Ghost had tattoos.

When the teeth had run out and the man’s hands grappled for the waistband of both his cargo and his boxers, you’d found out you’d been staring the entire time, pupils so wide they matched Ghost’s and the black stain of his face-paint.

“Fuckin’ hell, Masque,” he grunts, knuckles white and going still, “bet your pretty little cunt is soaked and I ‘aven’t even shown you my bloody dick yet, eh? Well, the thing’ll ‘ave to wait, I’m puttin’ that mouth to good use first. Teaching it who to listen to.”

You startle back, blinking away the burning heat on your cheeks that leaves you uncharacteristically stuttering at the vulgar degradation. But Ghost doesn’t notice, doing what he can to move the various straps along his thighs and his upper hips to be able to free himself quickly—eager and dripping to be down your throat.

The throat and mouth he’d fantasized about for ages.

Stiffing down a whiny moan, you finally see the veiny girth of Ghost’s cock as it comes free over the top of the tight white cotton of his boxers; a happy trail extending up his visible abdomen when his wrist snatches it out.

“Put to good use?” You breathe out, “Christ, you’re going to make me fucking mute, Ghosty.”

“Well, Sweetheart,” he breathes a sigh of relief as he plays with the leaking tip with his thumb. Your hands itch to brush against your achy clit, the pressure in your chest almost enough to make you sob at the sheer nothingness. Sweat glistens over your forehead. Eyes glare at you as you watch thighs tense and loosen. “That’ll be fine by me. Don’t need you speaking when I’m paintin’ your damn cunt with my cum, do I?”

Jesus, you both were in the fucking meeting room. Going to fuck in the meeting room.

You lick your lips and stare as Ghost stalks close again, gripping your chin and opening your jaw with his thumb and first finger. His dick was right in front of you, and you can smell sex and sweat like an animalistic aphrodisiac as it coats your brain with lust as you moan out.

Your arms tense with a want to reach and touch it, watch as Ghost falls apart below the twist of your wrist. It was so addictive you feel yourself clench at the visual, your body shivering violently.

“Oi, fucking focus.” Your tongue sneaks out and licks Ghost’s finger and he feels his grip tighten on you with a puff of hot air. “Little brat.”

He stares into your mouth and breathes deeply as a smirk peels the edges of your lip. Blue swirls with anticipation.

“Keep it open, then.” Ghost’s hand drops from you and you easily keep your mouth open as his hand goes back to his cock, grasping it firmly as the other finds the top of your head. You shiver and shift your thighs under you, your body striking like a drum to oxycontin and adrenaline. “That’s a girl…” The Lieutenant growls, and the tip of his dick slips into your saliva-dripping mouth with hidden fever. “Fuck.”

Your eyes flutter at the taste, letting him maneuver your face closer to the base as your hands snap to his thighs—nails digging in and eliciting a sharp inhale as you press into the two-week-old wound under his pants. Ghost curses under his breath but watches in flooding pleasure at the image of his cock disappearing farther and farther into you. Inch by inch you tell yourself to breathe through your nose; feeling the make of his veins and the mushroomed tip traveling farther and farther back.

Moaning in the base of your neck, Ghost instinctually jerks his hips at the sound, feral grunts trapped in his chest. Your eyes go wide with the prickle of tears, not from pain but from the surprise as you gag. His hold on your hair tightens and you mewl as he continues to lose himself to the feeling of your wet heat.

He was so big it was like your throat was ripping new sinews just for him, and you reveled in every moment of the feeling of his predatory gaze.

“So bloody tight for me—can’t wait to be in that cunt of yours…can’t be better than this. Have to test it.” He talks more when he’s horney.

Slightly gagging again at the sheer size, his palming hand presses you deeper and you take him as well as you’re able, still space between your nose and his pelvis as your knees dig harder into the ground. Ghost groans gutturally, head slightly lulling back and panting like a dog, looking down at your red eyes and far-off gaze. Your hands kneed his upper thighs and he smirks slowly.

Without another word and with sweat staining him under his uniform, bits and bobs from his gear start to clink together and dance as his hips set a rough pace; you find your head being puppeteered back and forth with his thrusts as your scalp flames from his hold. Tears burn immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it—such a good little slut for me, Masque. Gettin’ it down, fuck,” Ghost pants, as you hollow your cheeks, back arching into you and leaving your nostrils flaring to take down air for your spasming lungs. The sight above you was sinful.

Your Lieutenant in full gear, pants and skin-tight boxers stretching and shoved down just under the clutch of his crotch. With every back-and-forth motion, the zipper grazes the underside of your engorged throat as every vein can be undoubtedly seared into your esophagus like a brand.

Ghost’s eyes flutter and flinch, but never once does his hazy gaze leave your mouth as he continues to jerk your head back and forth. Saliva drips drown your chin and the nearly painful burn in your navel lets you know how true this was a relief not only for Ghost but for you as well. You wanted to touch yourself, but you can’t stop touching the Brit—not for a second. Shit, you think you could fall apart just by looking at this; you were sure Ghost was thinking the same thing.

“Look at that, makin’ such a fucking mess of you.” His abdomen tightens and rolls with every jerk and rut, and your eyes roll back with a deep whine in the back of your throat when he hits the back of your throat. Sweat splatters down your temple as the air is steeped with animalistic desperation. Ghost whines thickly in answer and seems to speed up as your hands claw at his thighs. “You like that, pet? Huh? Being my little cock-sleeve.”

Your nails dig deeper into his flesh and he shivers wildly; eyes flash at the sight of himself disappearing into you and exiting just after as the slap of wet skin reverberates. The tension in his chest increases and he starts to desperately kneed at your hair.

“If I’d known you’d take it down like this, I’d-I’d have made you hate me sooner, yeah?” Tension fizzles up his jaw and you know he’s close by how he bites down into his lip and tilts his head back.

Instinctual tears travel down your sweat-slick face, the thought of being used like this vulgar and as dirty as the sounds that echo in your throat and strike down your spine.

“Fucking hell,” Ghost gasps, and his pace stutters as he twists your locks. Your teeth graze along his flesh as you dig your thumb into his wound to steady yourself. Whining loudly, the action seems to get to the man using your mouth for his pleasure, as not three rough thrusts later the warm feeling of his cum splatters the back of your throat in thick, hot, spurts.

Choking for a moment, the widening of your eyes meets Ghost’s fluttering lashes from above. His free hand goes behind you to slam onto the tabletop; back curved over you as he shakes and sputters as he rides out his high.

Cum drips out of the seams of your stretched lips, and with a deep breath through your nose, your hand lowers from Ghost’s thighs as you carefully pull your face back from his pelvis. The sensation of his cock leaving your mouth and bringing saliva and his fluids with it was animalistic at best, they spill to the floor and off of your chin like a small river.

Licking your lips, you swallow what you can and try to catch your breath as your chest rages. Blinking rapidly, your eye twitches as you bring a hand up to your sore and ragged throat, Ghost’s heaving body stiff and hunched as he stares at the table blankly. Sweat dribbles down the side of his nose, sneaking out from under the top side of his mask.

There’s a long minute of nothingness as you both try to breathe and understand the gravity of what you’ve both done. And then you both lock eyes and stare.

The air stills over as Ghost’s large pupils stare at the mess on your face—seeing it drip down your throat as you tilt your chin up to him. His chest purrs like a cat and you don’t even think he realizes that he does it.

Two seconds later you’re being manhandled up to the top of the table, backside hitting it as a hand goes to your belt. Lips connect with yours and groan at the taste, the clinking of metal hitting your ears as you submit to his prodding tongue as it licks along your inner flesh.

Your fingers snap to trail around Ghost’s neck, moaning into him as he slips his hands into your pants, pulling back and ordering, “Up.” Eager and filled with lust, you raise your legs and he rips them down to your knees, dragging you closer to the edge.

“Good girl.” He smirks, black-smeared eyes creased. If you could speak you’d tell him to shut up and fuck you already.

Your slick skin meets the air and you gasp, Ghost’s hands waste no time trailing up the flesh of your hips, pitching to make you jump. Glaring, you try to drag him back into you but he’s built like stone, clicking his tongue. When his fingers collect the fluids that drip out of you, you whimper at the stimulation—two calloused fingers getting entranced by that as they stop at your clit. You stare desperately into amused blue eyes as he pressed deep, your thighs tensing as they jerk.

“Any more of this and you’ll stain the table, won’t you, Sweetheart? I get you this worked up, yeah? Bloody hell.” You pant, and lines form on your forehead at the indecent circling of his fingers; not being gentle as he sees your mouth open and your lungs gasp. Sharp spikes form in your thighs, and they move in tandem with Ghost. “Look at that…”

Deep chuckles mock you, but you both know this has to be fast—and with how worked up you were, it would be.

“Alright, then, brat,” Ghost takes his hand away and you whimper before he grunts and grips you by the shoulders. Your lust turns to confusion. “Suppose you did well. Let’s make this quick, eh? Got work to do.”

Flipped around, you squeak as your clothed chest meets the table, ass presented as your feet scramble to connect with the floor. Surprised, you whip your head to the side to stare back at a highly smug Ghost as one of his hands goes to grab onto your supple flesh, massaging it before it sneaks to your hip.

“Easy with it, I’ll take care of you, Masque.” In little to no time he’s lining himself up with your dripping pussy, so wet it’s easy except for the fact that he’s huge enough to make you mute by a blowjob. Your back arches into the table with a long moan as the length slowly spears you open, instinctually widening your legs as best as you’re able.

Closing your eyes, you press one of your hands to your mouth to stifle your noises, thighs spasming as Ghost curses under his breath; gear clinking into each other.

“So bloody tight.” With a swift thrust and a knock of your pelvis to the edge of the table, your eyes burn with the feeling of holding Ghost in your most intimate area and the knowledge that he would completely wreck it for anyone else. Your lungs fight for air, but a long mewl exits your fingers as the man shakes over you with restraint. “Christ.”

Tight wasn’t the way to describe it—you were like a fucking noose. Your sensitive walls know every vein and bulge, the scrape and dig, far more intimately than your throat ever could. Like a carved stamp, they’re reforming to Ghost’s dick every second.

Tapping the side of your forehead to the table, the man can’t help himself anymore and starts to thrust into you; feral squelching and fluids staining the top of his pants. Your face burns, the rocking of the table hypnotic as your toes fight to stay on the ground. The sensation of being so full truthfully made your mind go blank, fingers twitching as Ghost continued to palm at your hip—his other hand going to press into your spine, keeping you stapled to the table.

His gear slammed and rubbed into your ass, bruising it no doubt, but you found you didn’t care at all. Pleasure rocked down with every ruthless intrusion.

“Can feel ya ‘round my cock,” you keen at the words, tears dribbling down the side of your face as you try to hold back sobs of pleasure. Ghost increases his pace, rabid slapping echoing off the walls as he feels his sole focus on your mind-shattering bliss. “Can’t have ‘em hear how loud you are, now, can we? Can’t let ‘em know I’m shagging you in their meeting room like a little fucktoy, eh?”

He angles his hips higher, pushing your farther up the table as his hands only drag you back. Every moment leaves your core tightening even more; molten heat pooling as the edge gets closer.

Footsteps echo down the hall outside, but both of you are too focused on the other and the ache that only increases like a pair of cuffs. Your mouth lets loose insistent gasps and moans while Ghost breathily groans at every other interval of his ravaging cock as it brushes your cervix.

You whine loudly, spine arching and legs desperately trying to close. Ghost chuckles and your reaction spurs him on—hitting that same spot over and over again as you sob.

“Right there, yeah? That it, Masque?” You nod rapidly, and the Lieutenant's grip tightens with a loud grunt, “Fuck, that’s it, bloody slut.”

The coil in your gut gets tighter, shining with desperate shakes of your body and the numb way you try to meet Ghost’s thrusts before you entirely lose the plot of reality.

“You’re close,” he breathes, feeling your pussy trying to keep him in, slick trailing down the insides of your thighs and transferring to the Brit’s clothes. His boxers were soaked. “C’mon, then. Don’t disappoint me, Masque. Lemme see you cum on my cock before I fill you up like the good girl you are, yeah?”

Your body spasms, thighs tensing and toes curling at the floor; fingers scratching down the table as you press over your mouth harder in a last-ditch effort to remain in control of yourself. The coil snaps and suddenly you’re digging your forehead into the wood below you, orgasm ripping through you like a knife as cum paints Ghost’s dick as he continues his relentless chase of his second release.

“There it is, fuck, look at all that, Love. Paintin’ me like a naughty fuckin’ portrait.” Ghost gasps, a hand coming up to connect to the table by your head, feeling you completely flood his pelvis—he doesn’t stop even when you whine in overstimulation, fucked-out eyes wide and mouth dripping drool into a small pool. The milky ring at his root grows and grows. With a loud moan, he looks down and watches the vulgar sight rabidly, pounding into your heat as his own end gets closer and closer.

“Shite,” His forehead hits your spine, taking the skin into his teeth and biting hickeys as his open mouth leaves trails of saliva. “Took me so bloody well, cunt was made just for me.”

His body shakes and with one last shove from his hips, he spills into you with a loud whimper muffled into your flesh. Teeth biting down so hard that you moan in turn, the spent releases dribble out of you like a stuffed bird. You feel his chest atop you as he places his weight slowly down; the fast-panting mirroring your own.

Sweat connects the two of you as it bleeds through your clothes, the smell in the air and the scent of delirious sex staining your bodies.

Your mouth remains open and hoarse, scraped dry. Ghost above you moves delicately as he pulls back up, moving back to peel your messy hair away from your blown eyes. After a moment his small voice hits you—the accent deep.

“All good?” Your eyes slowly rove to him as he kisses your forehead, shivering violently as he slips out of you; the wet drip of cum hits the carpet in the still silence as you whimper at the feeling. “...Masque?”

Dull concern emanates from his tone and you blink back. You clear your throat and utter in a torn voice, “...P-pretty good apology, Ghosty…S…shit.”

Smugness burns in his orbs, but the roll of his eyes hides it quickly. The puff of his chest couldn’t be hidden from you, though.

His hands reach down and hike up your panties and cargos—both items completely wrecked. The large splotch on Ghost’s own clothes showed you that you weren't alone in that aspect.

As he carefully flips your limp form back over and pulls you up by your arms, you groan in annoyance but shut up when his hands go to zip your zipper and clip back your belt.

“Couldn’t have had a revelation in your barracks room?” You huff, itching at your throat. “You’re buying me cough drops, you ass.” The state of your voice was laughable. Anyone would know what happened if they spoke to you.

Ghost sighs and begins with his own clothes, stuffing himself back into his boxers and growling at the chilled fluids on his pants as he pulls them back up. He goes and retrieves his belt before walking back.

“Acting like you weren’t beggin’ for it.” He slides you a smirk before he grabs onto his mask and begins to cover his jaw.

Your hand snaps out and stops him. Ghost startles, eyes flashing before his muscles stiffen. You raise a brow and he slightly calms.

Scoffing, you lean in and place a final kiss on his lips—a tinier and tender kiss. Gaze wide, the man stares off as his heart starts to beat fast again at the firm press. After you’re done your hand goes up and grasps the fabric yourself, carefully re-shrouding the mystery of a man with a smile.

He watches blankly.

“We okay?” You ask, tilting your head as your lower body aches when you shift on the table. “I miss my annoyingly gruff Ghost. This new one’s a jerk.” A small laugh graces your ears, and it makes you beam. “I know why you did it,” you admit, and hold out a hand between your bodies. “But pushing me away will only hurt the both of us. Let's try this, Ghost. Please.”

“...You’re makin’ it seem like a good deal, Love…is it?” He holds out a hand of his own, large and scarred hands that had gripped you so tight before utterly loose and awaiting.

“No clue,” you admit with a smirk, “Wanna figure it out?” Ghost watches as he always does and always will, searching into your eyes for any hint of hesitance or denial.

“Always liked a challenge.” He grunts and encompasses his hand with yours. You squeeze it and nod, chest light as your normal breath comes back.

“You know what a real challenge is? Trying to take down your fucking dic—” The meeting room handle jiggles and you both snap into action.

Ghost tosses you your notepad and you slide a shoved-away chair his way on shaky legs, slipping into a free seat with failing knees. You both sit side by side on the opposite side of the table, shoulders bumping and faces hot not three seconds later. Ears twitch at the sound of a key entering the slot.

You try to act normal and begin messing around with your notepad, stealing a pen from Ghost’s gear as Price opens the door. At the sight of the two of you, he pauses and stands in the doorway.

“Ghost…Masque.” With a squint, Price looks around the room slowly, confused at the rod-straight spine from his Lieutenant and the way you awkwardly scribble nothing onto your pad.

“Price,” Ghost utters as you look up and fake smile, waving as you tighten your hips under the table in an attempt to hide the evidence spilling out of you.

The Captain continues to stare, scrutiny in his eyes, for at least a full minute.

“Problem, then?” The Lieutenant asks. Price’s lips thin and he gains a sheen of deep annoyance. You groan under your breath and knock your head to the table at the next comment.

“In the fucking meeting room?!”

TAGS:

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steor-ra · 1 month ago

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AHHHH I LOVE THIS CHAP OF BATFAM!! I CANT WAIT FOR THEM TO SEE US DEAD (?) I CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT ONE

TYSM I'm glad to know some1 enjoy it like I do even though I get too lazy to write and take too long to update😂 Anyways thank you for the support so here's some fact to the FF that I'll maybe not mention to the story because I wanna end the FF soon as possible 😎☺ warning; Im lost from the topic

Remember when I said that Dick's one of the reasons why he ignored you was because you appeared lonely and sad? It was because Dick was still mourning Jason's death at the time, and he didn't want to interact with a miserable person like him. Dick was still furious with the world and himself for taking Jason away from him. He was afraid to say Jason's name if he attempted to speak with you. That is why he maintained a distance, which remained even after Jason returned.

Some of them actually have their each reason which I'll probably or maybe mention to a chapter

Anyway, Dick became a yandere for you because he is full of regret; he has become a figurative to anyone who enters or exits the mansion. He protected everyone from drowning in the sea of darkness, but he let you drown. In a sea full of sharks, preparing to eat his baby bird.

And he is terrified for your sake, but he should not be. He knows nothing about you; if Bruce or anybody else in the family is unaware of your existence, what makes you so unique that you must take over his head and make him obsessed with you? Despite years of ignoring you, no one knows anything about you, which is exactly the objective. Dick is intrigued with learning more about someone like you, and the more he discovers, the more he falls in love (platonic). Do you get what I mean?

The obsessiveness begins with the crushing guilt of not knowing anything about someone who has been living in the manor for years, and the more Dick learns about you, the more obsessed he becomes.

Maybe Tim will also have the same fate, maybe we'll know to the next chapt 😉

Maybe.

And btw dick misses his baby bat so much, please come back he swear he'll make it up for all those neglect

If you wish to not see bruce or any of them besides him, them you won't, it'll be just you and him baby bat :)

So please, come back

(A/n: for those who had requested some sanerios and stories, don't worry! I'm still writing them and take super duper longgggggggggg to publish, just resurring y'all because I've had the experience of not being answered when I send asks🥲 and it hurts as a introvert person to be ignored😔💔 AND OH to that person who requested about joker!Reader x batfam like a month ago(?) I'M WORKING ON IT RN just superrr slow😑🙃 ANYWAYS thank you all for the support and for the patience for my slow ass mind I appreciate it ☺💞 especially the comments 💞)

#yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batfam x reader #yandere batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #yandere platonic batfamily x reader #– bring back the dead🖤#yandere dc

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vivwritesfics · 9 months ago

Text

Fire Is The Devil's Only Friend

Chapter Two

There was no such thing as making it on your own with a high profile boyfriend. That was why she kept her relationship a secret. But then after a PR fuck up, her boyfriend is forced into PR relationship and she's left on the side lines, missing him

1.1K

Series Masterlist

"Have you saved your work yet?"

Carlos knew better than anyone how hard she was working. Between writing her next book, using social media to market, and answering emails from her editor, she as flat out. He was incredibly worried about her.

She looked up at him for just a second before saving her work. The moment she did, Carlos pushed the lid of her laptop closed. "Carlos!" She cried. She went to open the laptop again, but Carlos pulled it from the table.

"One hour, mi amor. Give me on hour, and then I've give you your laptop back."

She thought on it. "You promise just an hour?"

"I promise," he said as he stepped towards her, the laptop against his chest. "We can go and get coffee together." He leaned down and pecked her lips.

She pouted as he pulled away. "You're too good to me."

"Because I just love you so much," he said and kissed her again.

***

The story of Carlos Sainz's relationship with Rebecca Donaldson broke in the early hours of the next morning. Neither of them were aware.

Carlos didn't check his phone when he woke up. He went on a run in the early hours of the morning and spent a few hours working out, like he did every day, all while she slept.

When he got back, she was still sleeping. Carlos made two coffees and brought them to the bedroom. Placing them down onto their bedside tables, Carlos leaned over and kissed his head. "Wake up, mi corazón," he said softly.

She stirred awake and glared at her husband. "It's so early," she groaned, pressing her face further into the pillow.

His laugh echoed around their bedroom. "It's not that early, my love. I got you coffee, drink up."

They had just a few hours together before she was having an online meeting with her publishers in her office and Carlos was meeting with the team at Ferrari.

He opened his laptop and logged into the call. He was rarely in a bad mood these days, the team at Ferrari noted. It was a surprise to all of them, especially after the story they had sold to the media that morning. "Carlos, I'm sure you've heard the news."

The smile dropped from Carlos's face, replaced by a frown. "What news?" He asked. He hadn't yet been on any social media, had seen none of the news articles flash up on his phone.

"We made a decision here at Maranello, one we felt would benefit the entire team," somebody else said. "After some recent events, all of which were out of our control, we thought it best to give the media something more digestible. To do so, it was leaked to the press that you were potentially romantically linked to Rebecca Donaldson, the Scottish Model."

All expression dropped from Carlos's face. He turned on his phone and, for the first time, saw the news. The news about him.

The photo of himself with Rebecca Donaldson wasn't obviously photoshopped, but there was no other explanation. There he was, in a picture with a woman he had never met.

"See, the things is, Carlos, what else are we supposed to do? Do you want Ferrari to crumble?"

No, obviously he didn't want that. "But what about the relationships of mine this does affect?" He asked quickly, pulling open his desk drawer and pulling out the ring box. He didn't display it on camera, fiddled with it in his lap. "What if I was in a relationship and I hadn't yet told anyone?"

"You don't want to lose your seat, do you?" It was a dirty ploy, but the Ferrari team was desperate. "You're almost thirty, you have a limited number of wins under your belt and no championships. Will any other team want you?"

Carlos's heart pounded in his chest. "So, I have to go on with this fake relationship and I'll get to keep my seat?"

"Exactly."

He sucked in a deep breath. Just a wall separated him from the love of his life, but here he was, ready to betray her. All for his seat. "What will I have to do?"

The rest of the meeting was spent with the Ferrari team telling Carlos exactly what they wanted from him. Be seen with her at races, have her in the Ferrari garage, take her to dinner sometimes. It was easy enough.

But it wasn't. Because the woman he loved was going to be at the races too, just not with him, not in the way they wanted Rebecca to be with him.

It was too late for him to back out. The press had released several stories about Carlos and Rebecca already.

The call ended, but he just stayed there, sitting in his chair. He flipped open the ring box several times, playing with it in his hands. The ring was gorgeous, simple, elegant. But now, Carlos doubted he'd ever get to put it on her finger.

At the knock on his office door, Carlos shoved the ring back into his desk drawer. "Carlos?" She called as she entered his office. He looked to the door as she walked in. Her shoes clicked softly against the tiled floor as she walked to his desk and sat herself on his lap. "I've got news about the release. It's launching next week."

"I'll be the first to buy it," he said, his hands on her hips.

Just hours ago, this would have been welcome news. The release of her book meant they were one step closer with telling the world about their relationship. But all of that had been thrown out of the window now, and she had no idea.

"I can't wait to kiss you after a race," she said, her head against his shoulder. "I can't wait to be seen with you."

Carlos said nothing. He kissed her head and held her close, relishing in these moments they had together. There was no telling how many more there would be once she found out.

Maybe he could propose to her now. Drop down onto one knee, put the ring onto her finger and kiss her until she forgot how to breathe. But then it would hurt so much more when she found out.

And he couldn't do that to her.

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#carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz x reader smut #carlos sainz x you #cs55 #cs55 imagine #cs55 x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

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whatt-the · 2 months ago

Text

Gift for @uno-san

College Stanford x milf reader

Content warnings: age gap obviously, stanford is a warning because I am tired of people pretending he isn't odd as hell, fem reader

Author's note: this takes place in an AU where Stanley never ruined ford's project and he got into his dream college. He is taken under the wing of an esteemed scientist, shenanigans (cheating on ur husband in a loveless marriage) ensue.

devious devious art about this coming soon! Both targeted and about the ambiguous "reader".

This is also only part 1 and there will definetly be more to come

Imagine how Stanford felt when first being invited to his mentor's house, after a particularly lengthy discussion on whatever topic the lecture his mentor gave happened to be about. I can imagine all sorts of emotions running through his mind... anxiety, excitement, a bit of shock- he knew he was smart, but he never thought his theories were reasonable enough to challenge his mentor's views: you see, he really idolized that man. Continuing their discussions would be an honor, and the mere mention of publishing multiple papers with him had stanford's mind racing, he could barely contain his joy!

Now, understand that he had plans for the unexpected visit: he'd prove his worth, his technical prowess, anything to get more of that sweet, sweet approval. We both know he didn't have much of that in his youth, neither did he get much of it now... it seems he is always the single oddest character in any given room, even amongst other well educated, motivated students. "Teacher's pet", "tryhard", he couldn't believe it at first- such childish insults at such an esteemed institution? He thought those got left behind in high school. How innocent he is. Regardless:

His plans were to prove himself.

Well, like I said, were.

Right now? His mind couldn't be further from his studies.

He'd made it to the house alongside the professor, the discussion now spanning multiple topics- he was having fun. Rare, considering any of his other interactions with quite literally anyone else.

(Truly the outcomes are deplorable. His social skills are lacking to an astronomical degree, to the point where it is borderline comical how little he knows about human interaction. It is a cliché, the nerd who doesn't know how to socialize, but it wouldn't be so popular of a trope if it didn't often get reflected in reality. Not like he knew it was very popular to begin with: even the claim that he learned to interact with others through books would be false, since he strayed from any sort of romantic narrative. It was out of a feeling of inadequacy, really.)

Then, the door was opened.

And that's when he met you for the first time.

"You! You're Stanford right? I've heard good things from my husband here-"

"Come on, don't flatter the kid yet." Your husband spoke with a chuckle

"Hey! He deserves to hear how good he's doing! Come here." You walked forward and hugged him, it was your way of greeting people. It was warmer and more welcoming- both things the world lacked severely.

(Stanford found himself paralyzed where he stood for a few moments. He'd already found your personality endearing -your appearence even moreso-, and now you're pressed up against him? He simply must be dreaming. You felt so soft against him-- heavens, how long had it been since he'd received a hug? Far too long, clearly, but he doesn't remember them ever feeling this good)

The societal pressure to reply to this action in some way caught up to him fast, however. He was quick to place a hand on your waist, his range of motion being limited from your arms wrapping around his own. He may experience the social pressure, but he really has no clue what's appropriate and what isn't, huh? Cute.

(Had he a modicum of self control, he'd most definetly have had a much more timely and well adjusted response to your touch, but amidst the smell of your perfume, your soft arms around him, your hair tickling against his face, the feeling of your hands on his back... nothing carried the same weight as your presence did, who could blame him for doing what his mind instructed him to do and touch you back somehow? He'll come to find that he will blame himself very much for this interaction. No one more judgemental on his behaviors than the one responsible for them)

Once you pulled back from him, you were quick to usher them inside and offer them snacks, reasoning that they'd deserved something nice after studying and debating so much on so many topics. Your husband eagerly agreed and impatiently waited for your food through busying himself by unearthing blueprints and all sorts of different research papers so there would be grounds for his and ford's endless theorizing.

And thus, as you left, Stanford was left with his own thoughts. He made note of the fact that those very same thoughts were entirely consumed by you: how you dressed, how you looked, how soft your hair was, how lovely your voice sounded; all things that brought him much joy to think about, but equal parts of shame. He didn't necessarily want to have any such invasive thoughts about his professor's wife, yet there he is, with his thoughts growing more wretched by the minute. It's almost like his brain was against him: guiding thoughts that had him blushing at the very visage into his mind's eye. He wanted your hands on his back again- he wanted you to drag your nails across it-- he wanted to feel your lips on his, he wanted to feel your breath grow shaky against him--

"Here it is!! Sorry for the wait"

Papers getting dropped on the table and a thankful sigh were the next things he heard. His professor turned to him, instructing him to sit at the table, since "if you don't come quick, there won't be any left for you!"

Your food was great, simply regarded as the usual to your husband, but seen as the world's 8th wonder by Stanford. When asked if he was enjoying the food, he quickly assured you that he was absolutely enjoying it, making sure to remark that it is "the best thing he's had since he entered college", which was not at all a lie, considering he was surviving off of microwaved cup noodles and the occasional granola bar- but even he knew that was too pathetic for him to mention at all.

Your husband and Stanford made quick work of the snacks and promptly got back to... spewing big pompous words and numbers at eachother... at least it seems they were having fun, considering they'd laugh toguether on occasion. That must be a good sign? You weren't entirely sure what was happening with those 2, and you took to not interrupting them in lest you break their chain of thought.

The afternoon went by in the blink of an eye to them. Discussions on various theories followed by reading research papers followed by sketching on blueprints followed by more reading research papers. It was their passion, it seems. However, ford was greatly saddened that it was already so late- he knew full well that if he stayed any longer he'd end up spending the night on your couch, so both him and his professor agreed that it was very much time for him to go back to campus snd consequently to the dorms.

Of course, that wasn't going to happen before he got to say goodbye to you. Even if he was embarrassed to look you in the eye after a full day of... various thoughts about you, he couldn't seem to get enough of your presence. Making his way towards the front door, you were the only one who accompanied him, since your husband was quite busy organizing the mess him and his pupil had created throughout the day.

As you stood at the doorway, you saw yourself growing quite sorrowful that he'd be leaving already, he was quite interesting to you. However, nothing could have prepared neither you nor him for what he did next. He turned around to face you once more, seemingly debating something in his mind for an instant. But, just as quickly as his uncertainty was noticed, it vanished, being replaced by a conviction and fervor he didn't expect from himself -his self control seemed to disappear when he was with you- .Thus, he gently took a hold of your hand and brought it up to his height, kissing the back of it lightly. You could feel your heart skip a beat; you hadn't experienced any such romantic gestures in... god knows how long. As he pulled back, you spoke.

"I-it was... lovely meeting you Stanford." You squeezed his hand as you took a step forward. As soon as he returned your sentiment, he was gone. Though, in the look you both shared during those brief moments, you both knew this wasn't going to be the last time he'd be in this house.

You'd both make sure of it.

Stanford's professor after ford practically begged to go back to his house again: "did you really like her cooking that much?"

Stanford, sweating profusely: "yeah.. her.. . Cooking......"

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #stanford pines x reader #stanford pines x you #this LOSER is about to get his world ROCKED #can ya'll tell that I actually wish I could punch stanford?? no???#good. you shouldn't

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mitsua · 2 months ago

Text

With an MC who likes to post about their dates with them

Warnings: none Genre: fluff

Series: OM! SWD? MC'S. . . GN!

Words count: 0.74k

I don't think he'd really like it at first, since you were all the time asking for a picture, for him to pose or smile, and, well, he doesn't really wish to do that.

However, once Asmodeous showed him all the posts you made on every date-how you wrote so highly and cutely about your spent time with him-it made somethings in his heart and pride go up to the stars.

"I'll smile only if you smile too."

Maybe sometimes is the one who catches you off guard asking you to take a picture of the most random moment on your date just as a joke.

But oh boy when he scrolls down later on and sees you really posted those embarrassing photos, he's gonna be malfunctioning for a while.

Still, as he reads your thoughts about the date on the picture's caption, his mind will race a thousands miles per hour and kick his feet like a little kid (obviously without anyone seeing him).

"Be grateful I'm not charging ya' for those photos!"

It started as posting about some streamings you watched, then to both your hands shown holding a video game controls, the final blow was when he woke up to an exaggerated amount of posts he'd been tagged on, new hashtags shipping the both of you and some even promoting their pages to read Leviathan x you content.

He was about to go insane, but as you asked him if he wanted you to delete all those posts, he reconsidered and ponder what was wrong on all that.

"It's fine, yes, it's going to be fine only with you by my side."

He'd get used to you taking a photo before and after entering a new place with him, sometimes a couple more in there. But never thought nor asked what'd you do with those.

Later on, as he read online about new places to take your date to in Devilgram as it seemed to be the most reliable app to ask to, he came across your page and finally saw all you had to comment of your dates.

"I love reading your narrating, however, would you mind telling me by yourself what you thought about it all?"

When he discovers your passion of publishing about your dates, you've grown accostumed to even going live on a couple of them. Of course the most part of your dates were private, you spent some time exchanging ideas on how to edit or tag your posts.

The only time you really caught him off guard was the time you posted a photo of him fully suited, when you attended to a fancy dinner of your anniversary together, he didn't notice you taking it! Your caption reading: "Hope you know you look beautiful to me in every way you'd never even got to imagine about <3"

His eyes got glassy as he absorbed your words and went immediately to hug you.

It's an odd thing to him, but doesn't really comment about it unless he thinks you're spending too much time on your D.D.D. your eyes might burn because of being glued to the screen all time.

One day, after an important fangol match of his, some reporters asked permission to publish the photographs taken on their Devilgram account and tag them on it, to which all of them agreed happily. After returning to the HOL he'd look for their team's post and click on your page by mistake, mersmerized with all the love you put on your almost daily posts about your dates with him.

"Uhm... do you want to take a picture of both of us eating this cupcake?"

He'd still have a weird approach, but trust me, he's trying.

He's between 'I don't like it' to 'I don't care'. Nevertheless, he would smile in a couple of pictures you want to take throughout your time together. But only when he's looking at you.

He won't bother looking to the camera, he'll only stare at you.

The only photo you have of him smiling to something else that was not you was when he was asleep. Probably dreaming of you too-

Sometimes, when he can't sleep, he might scroll down your Devilgram to remember those cute dates of yours.

"That I have to look to that little thing in your phone while you're taking the photo? Why? I want to look at you."

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nostalgicmiscellaneous · 6 months ago

Text

This is long, but i need to get this out of my chest:

I have made so many post defending Penelope when people talked about her issues, her traumas but right now i feel like defending Colin.

As a woman, sometimes i naturally tend to feel defensive and shield the girl but i need to be fair here. Colin's feelings and trust were deeply hurt, Colin is insecure, soft, thoughtful, introspective, sensitive and suffers with a inferiority complex, and he struggles to know his place in society and among the people he loves, on what he should do and the expectations of society from a 22 years old man.

What many don't seem to realize is that Colin, even before knowing Penelope is LW, was very insecure about what she loves in him ( and even if she did in fact love him, because she was about to marry someone else), about being worth of her, he says he wants to do something, to publish his diaries because he wants her to be proud of him…he already didn't think he was good enough for and to her. Colin is insecure about not being good enough in every aspect of his life, tbh. His lack of purpose, faith in himself and on others loving him from whom he is runs deep. His moment of vulnerability telling how much Penelope not answering to his letters affected him, his family too was very revealing. Him screaming at Pen with tears in his eyes that he felt foolish that she read his diaries and praised him as something special. This is something i've noticed even in other seasons too. The family not caring much about his need to connect and his somewhat strained relationship with Anthony, who wasn't really a good male figure to him. It's about male ego? A bit, but it's deeper than that in the series.

Another issue is, he put Pen in a pedestal too ( much like Pen did until 2x8), to be honest, and that is never a good thing, because people are not perfect. And he needed to learn all that. There is disappointment there. But, again, it goes further. It’s him not knowing her as he thinks he should. It’s him perceiving her humanity but reflecting on his own. We have to remember he's so happy because Pen chose him, because he thinks now he's someone's priority and he's someone's focus. He has the immature idea that you should be everything in every way to the person you love, and if you can't be their protector and the hero in their eyes, why should anyone love you?

Then he finds out…and his worldview crumbles. Not only Penelope broke his trust and hurt him deeply - and she never told him and never would have - and it wasn't just himself but his family too, but she shattered his belief he knew and connected with her better than almost anyone else, she shattered his barely there newly found confidence and sense of purpose, what he thought was his sense of self now. All modern sensibilities tend to be ruffled about this, but i think it's a fitting conflict that he would have issues with her being so self-sufficient, so successful while he believes himself to be less, way less than her, so to Colin she doesn't need him, and if she doesn't need him, why would she love him? Why should she love him?

Again, there is the side of him conflicted about knowing her. The pedestal was broken, because she lied to him. She is this powerful, talented, successful woman on her own, not just the pretty shy girl with sweetness and great witty personality that he loves, the one that thinks the world of him. She talked about him, she criticized him and while it rings true deep down, it rings devastation, because she could see beyond his farce and it makes him look and feel pathetic.

So he's struggling with two things: on how to love her, all of her, and how to feel good enough for her, love himself. He's trying to accept her new wonderful aspects and her hurtful flaws because he never stopped loving her, in no moment we see anything but love when that man looks at her, when that man is crying because of her and his deep sadness and longing, his anger is laced with so much love for her. He's angry at her but mostly at himself and he needs to figure it out a way to feel like he deserves to be loved by her. It fuels his issues and he also over compensates.

His hang ups with LW becomes his tangible target. Not only he sees as a dangerous thing to her, it puts her at risk, and with that in mind he can put himself in a role of her protector again, but he fixates on the idea that without Whistledown she's the Pen that he can believe is able to love him even if he's not good enough. Without Whistledown she's not so much above him and not so far from him, because Whistledown is her critical eye, it's Penelope appraising people very analytically and if she looks closely, he doesn't think she will see much in him, as she proved before with he S3 ep1 comment. He wants to get rid of it.

Sure, he's jealous too, he envies her success but exactly because he resents how much that makes him less worthy. It's also another thing that he thinks she's putting above him. He couldn't see clearly that it wasn't something outside herself (and he gets it after), but part of who she is, and all of those parts loves him. It's foolish and it's nonsensical because he doesn't understand that she has seen his flaws but she loves him anyway. He needed reassurance just as much as Pen needed. He needed her to keep on telling she loved him and why, because it heals him.

Some people were upset he didn't make love to her that day he went to get a blanket, but i get it. He wants it, he wants her so badly, you can see it. Colin has problems communicating and doing what he wants because he feels pathetic, jealous and that makes him feel worse, makes him feel shame. It’s him, not her that was the issue at that point. His connection with her runs deeper, it's respecting her and himself, with all the conflicted feelings why he didn’t.

It’s a slow process and i’m bloody glad it took its time to be resolved. But he starts understanding that his way wont help them, it wont bring them closer. He wont solve things by controlling and being the hero. He can’t change the past, he can’t change who they are. He wont solve anything by repressing his love.

Pen words help him figuring out a lot, her spoken words directed to him and her written words that he reads again. She needs him. She tells him she needs him and his love, not grand actions. He can show love and be worthy by supporting her. He starts to understand and ACCEPT that Whistledown is Pen, and loving Pen will include that part of her personality. He grasps that it was always there and it never made a difference in how much she loved being around him and him her, how much attention she dedicated to him, how much her words, in her letters, were full of admiration for him, to her love to him, how much she is his special person. She needs him just as much he needs her, she needs his love, his charm, his intelligence, his humor, his integrity, she needs him because without him she doesn’t feel complete, she doesn’t feel happy. He’s a good man, a fine man that makes her happy, always have. And he realizes she inspires him, she always had, and that isn't a problem, that having her helping him is not a problem, because he helps her too in many ways. It’s only when he can accept himself as equal and entitled to her love as she is to his that they could truly be together and happy.

Colin had the right to feel hurt, had the right to have his insecurities, had the right to need time and had the right to need space, had the right to lash out, had the right to come to term with the changes and surprises life threw at him, specially as a sensitive person that he very much is, and i'm glad the show didn't rush that.

#bridgerton #polin #colin bridgerton #luke newton #nicola coughlan #colin x penelope #penelope bridgerton #penelope featherington

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hyun0o · 11 months ago

Text

Her Favorite

[DOM! G!P Jennie x SUB! fem! reader]

[!SMUT!] & [FLUFF]

Summary: You and your older sister Nayeon went to Jennies penthouse to do a project together planning an all nighter to finish it, not knowing that you and Jennie will be up all night for a different reason...

Word count: 3.9k

(°=°): Been waiting to publish thiss, a pretty long read. I'm excited for what's about to come out for you guys. Enjoy (°3°)!

"God... You make me go insane Y/n"

(°=°)

7:06 PM

You and your older sister; Nayeon arrived at her best friends luxurious penthouse where the entire floor of her place is empty due to her renting it all for less inconvenience and hussle from other people. Which is where you didn't get her logic, why would she buy a penthouse if she didn't want to socialize in the first place?

Nayeon said it's nothing deep because she's rich and can do what ever she wants. Which you agree, she can do what ever she wants. Although it really did make you curious about the older girl. She seems to have so many mysteries, she has an appearance of an angel. Mellifluous voice to manipulate, her sexy body to seduce, and her sweet and rich smell to get you hooked of her presence immediately.

She's Kim Jennie, THE IT GIRL of her and Nayeons university, where is to which you wonder how she still doesn't have a boyfriend to spend some time on. By her looks alone, she could get anyone she wants. Al though, from what you've heard from Nayeons other classmates, she isn't really... The nicest girl, she is cold with both her looks and personality. Not wanting to do anything with other people that she doesn't find important.

Nayeon is her bff ever since childhood and so, you got to know her when the older girls were in highschool. Ever since then she grew fond of you, she nicknamed you baby since you were the maknae(youngest) of the house, but in general, she calls you every sweet names there is in the world.

And so in return, you nicknamed her Nini, it was simple yet cute at the same time. But as you grew older, you can't help but fall for the older girl, she's so sweet, so caring, so gentle, and so kind to you. It's like she feels the same way as you. But of course, you can't get ahead of yourself.

A knock was made by your sister while you wave at the cctv door. Feeling a little nervous, hoping that no one else was taking Jennies time. Sounds selfish but you wanted Jennies pampering to you only. She always asks how your day was going, if you've eaten yet, if you're comfortable, if you're having fun, if you're hungry, and if you need her. She felt like another older sister to rely on and yet you have completely fallen for her. But everyone has skeletons in their closets, and this night is where you discover your Nini's.

"Behave alright? Me and your Nini have to do a project together. Don't make her angry okay?" Nayeon reminded with a serious tone, her pretty round eyes shining with the light of the fancy wall lamp. She explained in the past how Jennie can get... Aggressive when angry but you've never made her nor seen her angry before have you? Recalling all your times together. She was just loving, sweet, clingy, and touchy to you. Whenever you acted a little bratty she never sounded irritated nor annoyed, so you've yet to see her in a scary state.

"I know, I already told you that I'd be okay alone at home. I don't want to bother you guys" You explained feeling a little guilty to be a nuisance to the older girls you look up to the most. Nayeon smiles and soon showed her adorable bunny tooth, her hand coming up to pet your head. You were used to such demeanor, being the youngest and having such lovable and charming charisma it's hard not to like you.

"Come on you big baby, I know you'd get bored when I'm not at the house. Besides I have to watch you just in case you do something stupid" The older girl laughed messing up your hair a little bit. You pout at her words, fixing your hair you soon huffed. "I'm old enough to be responsible unnie..." , Sulking at your older sisters tease. She apologize and quickly reasoned that her and jennie will need a stress reliever for the difficult project that was assigned to them. You hummed in response still pouting. And then finally, the door opened revealing Jennie with her luscious hair, sharp yet feminine features, and her full cherry lips looking kissable as ever. You soon looked at her outfit for the night. Short black cycling shorts letting her milky white legs get exposed and a pink cardigan over a white spaghetti strap making her breast look more defined. You slightly blush at such a majestic sight, stomach filled with butterflies. Her eyes met yours and she immediately broke a smile, her face growing soft.

"Hey guys... Sorry for the long wait, I was preparing for our little girls night in" She apologized and quickly opened the door for the both of you. Nayeon shook her head and said that it was okay since it was her home in the first place. She hugged her best friend tightly and with a big gummy smile. Thinking to yourself;

'How can someone be this beautiful?' Waiting for your turn for a welcoming hug, one the greetings you look forward with her the most. The two separated as she then hugged you, seemingly tighter than Nayeon. Hugging her back you can't help but notice her inhaling your scent, making you shiver a little. She snuggled at your neck and sighed. "So warm..." She whispered to only you can hear. Your cheeks immediately turning red.

"Come on you two we need to start so we could finish early" Nayeon chuckled, leading to you and Jennie to break the perfect hug. She grinned at you as Nayeon looked away, making you flustered. She came closer to you while walking towards the big living room.

"I missed you cutie, let's have fun tonight okay?" Jennie whispered while caressing your hand. Heart almost exploding, you nodded with excitement. Fantasizing the bonding you two will make for the night.

(°=°)

2:39 AM

The evening went well, with the two older girls spilling some unsaid tea together from their university, snacks being laid out on the glass coffee table that's mostly your favorite since they knew you were going to get bored, and rants about how the project was so hard and their professor didn't even teach how to accomplish it.

Jennies clinginess was never weird to you, infact you were delighted at the thought of the mean girl of the university had a soft spot for you. And of course making your little crush for her go insane when you two make physical contact. You eyed the bowl only half full of macaroons, you take one. Taking the cute pink macaron with your two fingers, you analyze its soft bread and smooth cream, you wonder if Jennie bought it or baked it herself. The older girl with feline eyes was clinging on to you for dear life, laptop on the table, comforter covering the both of your lower body, Jennies smooth legs intertwined with yours and sometimes rubbing them on your thighs making you shiver a bit, her body leaning towards you and her hands roaming on you upper body part, mostly on your tummy and smooth arms when she takes her breaks.

"Nini, did you bake this on your own?" You asked, referring to the cute macaroon between your fingers, she looked at your small hands and brushed her palm on your exposed thigh.

"I didn't baby, I bought it from a bakery down the street, do you want me to make those for you?" She asked softly, her hands going deeper to your inner thigh almost caressing your clit. Your legs twitched and slightly tightened at the sudden contact. She kept rubbing your inner thighs while making eye contact making your stomach bubble up and your pussy to get wet.

"N-nini..." You whimpered out nudely as she started to brush on your clit that's growing more hungry for her touch. She hummed and gets more bold, fingers running a cross your core leaving you to moan. She came closer to your ear,

"Answer my question baby. Don't make me wait" She said sternly, her fingers still in between you thighs while your pussy was throbbing for her. You look at the door of the room where your sister was sleeping soundly in since she really couldn't take the all nighter. It was shut tight and knowing Nayeon, she's a heavy sleeper. This was Jennies perfect time to make you hers and hers only.

"Y-yes...please make me a-ah!" You squealed as she put more pressure on your core. Tears rolling down your cheeks from the pain of needing pleasure. She licked your tears on your cheek and slowly kissed your lips. Her lips being soft and wet while putting her hands on your shoulder pushing you down on the couch and she put her knee in between you thighs for some friction. Still making out, your legs shook with the uneasy feeling. You always wanted to this with her but, does this mean your Nini loves you back? With the thought in your mind, she then kissed your pretty neck, leaving traces of her rosy lipstick and her hands groping your boobs. Your mind started to circuit as you didn't know what to do, your pussy won't stop throbbing and your needs for Jennie were just growing. Another moan left your mouth, Jennie standing up as she kept your head up to only letting your eyes go on her, no where else.

"Nini what are you doing..." You whispered with flushed cheeks. She sat between your legs but still a little taller. Looking up, you saw lust and hunger in her eyes, at this point you would do anything for her, even if it means losing your virginity to her. She reached for your hand and lead it up to her big breast letting you really feel her, she moans and cups your cheeks with one of her free hand. This turned you on even more, the pain growing sharply in your core.

"Fuck... like it baby? Want to feel your Nini more?" She asked with the most flirtatious smirk, you eagerly nodded basically moaning at the thought of being able to touch her. She made you rest on your back on the couch and took off her bra. Having full view of her glorious breast, you hesitated to touch them, looking at the older girl for consent. She chuckled and caressed your cheek once more.

"It's okay baby, come on. Touch your Nini, make me feel good..." She reassured, you felt like you were in a trance, Jennie looked like an absolute goddess on top of you. You started to fundle her boobs and flicked her nipples making her moan lowly. Jennies praises wasn't helping the still growing sensation from your pussy. Jennie lowered her body more and you immediately take her boob into your mouth. Sucking on her hard nipples while playing with her other boob.

"... Ah-ah, Yes baby, you know how to make me needy so bad..." Jennie whispered, rolling her eyes in the top her head. Her thick cock throbbing for your cunt. She's been fantasizing about you for years, fucking you in her pent house, in the university, in your own house when Nayeon is home so there's a thrill! She was obsessed with you, she wants to fuck you until all her cum is in your womb.

You felt hot at the praise, not being able to hold the pain, you stopped and looked up at Jennie with tearful eyes. String of saliva connecting your lips and her soft breast.

"Nini... It hurts...down there" You said as the tears rolled down with the blush never going away. Being this vulnerable was rare, but you can't take it anymore. Jennie was in awe, her baby was as needy as her. She then smirked and sat up, her cock visible in her cycling shorts. Rubbing her cock up and down getting excited by your tearful expression. Even when her dick was clothed, she still looked so big and thick, you didn't know if you could take all of her.

"Want me baby? Want me to make you cum until your legs are shaking?" She asked as she took of her shorts leaving her large cock to sprung out, standing on all its glory. It was so veiny with the tip having a cute shade of pink. But you can't help but feel nervous at her size. Your mouth was agape while panting, not realizing to yourself that you were drooling. Which Jennie found adorable, leaning down and licking your saliva on the corner of your lips.

"So cute... Ah, I just want to fuck you senselessly" She whispered, shivering from her dick making contact to your stomach, her pre cum visible. Gulping at the sight, you reached up and hugged Jennies neck, kissing her deeply. You could feel jennies grin in the kiss, her hands automatically going to your breast. She tasted like addicting cherries, probably from her chapstick, her tongue beating you over dominance making you moan into the kiss.

Jennie pulled away, making you whine at the fast end of the kiss. Saliva drooling on the sides of you mouth.

"Ni...ni..." You whined with a pleading face, this only made jennie more excited, she wanted you to plead for her every sign of affection. She made your mouth open with her soft finger tips and fingered your mouth with two fingers mixing you gag a little. She brushed on your tongue feeling weird but good at the same time. She then spat in your mouth making her own saliva on your tongue while still fingering your mouth.

"Swallow" Jennie ordered with her fingers still in your mouth, you immediately obliged, mouth closing in her fingers while swallowing her and your own saliva, shivering at her finger rubbing on your tongue. She gently pulled out and licked her entire fingers clean. Smirk forming on her lips while looking at your shocked and flustered face.

"Good job baby... you're such a good girl for your nini. I think it's time for your reward..." She licked her lips, going down to your clothed cunt. You were wearing a cute tennis skirt, one of Jennies favorite skirt for you to wear. She pushed the skirt to the side and licked your pussy with still your panties on. Flinching at the sudden sensation you put your hand on her hand and whimpered. Jennies cock growing impatient, she then sucked on your pussy finally getting a taste of you.

"A-ah nini!" You were so sensitive, anything can make you cum at this point, Jennie then took your skirt and panties off. As much as she loves that tennis skirt. She loves the thought of fucking you for the first time naked more, having the view of you perfect body all to herself more. Sitting up, she started to stroke herself as she asked if she could undress your upper part. You nodded, feeling a little bit embarrassed, but to jennie, she saw you as her perfect Y/n, your body having perfect curves that she longed to see, messy hair spread along the couch as a few strands was on your shoulder and arms, lips a little swollen from the make out session, and your eyes filled with tears from the pleasure and pain from the long anticipation.

Her cock can't help but twitch at the most beautiful sight. She bit her lip,

"Fuck... So pretty baby. I can't wait anymore..." She moaned hungrily, going down to your cunt and started eating you out with full passion and desire. You moaned out her name loudly, spreading your legs more for her to get more access. She then entered one finger in your pussy while still sucking on your clit. making you lose your senses. For waiting for such a long time, your sensitive bud can't help but cum fast.

"Please...god nini I-i can't" You stuttered, clawing at her hair and legs squeezing her head together, signaling her that you're about to finish. She raised her hand and intertwined it with yours once more, as she entered another finger and fastened her pace, curling her fingers, making you lean over the edge. Cumming all over her face while not being able to control your loud moans. Hips bucking, legs shaking, tears forming, and mouth drooling from such orgasm.

The sweat on your body, shining perfectly to make you glow. Hand covering your mouth while panting, trying to catch your breath.

"So good baby, good job..." Jennie whispered while drawing circle on your pretty stomach. Making you shiver, your eyes closing and feeling Jennies touch all over your body.

"Think you can take me now baby?" She asked positioning her tip to only brush on your entrance teasingly. You don't think you can, but you'll try for your Jennie. However, something dawned you, before saying anything you thought of what will happen tomorrow morning and how your relationship will change in the future. More over, what's your relationship right now? Are you still friends?, lovers?, flings?, fuck bodies?! You start to panic, you love the older girl so much, but you don't want to be connected through just hot sex. And you definitely don't want to act like this never happened tomorrow. And then another hard thought hit you right in the heart, what if she distance herself from you? Feeling uncomfortable or even disgusted on what will happen if you continue. You started to cry and gently pushed Jennie off with a pained expression.

The feline eyed girl immediately sensed something was wrong. She thought you wanted it as much as she did. So what's wrong with her Y/n? "Love what's wrong? Are you not ready? Uncomfortable, feeling sick? What is is?" She asked so gently, you cant help but cry even more feeling guilty for denying her release. You shook your head avoiding eye contact while attempting to stand up and leave the couch, but your wonky and sensitive legs weren't helping. Jennie immediately stood up to help you from behind as support.

"I-i gotta go..." You whispered while snuffling, head down with still shaking legs with Jennie's arms wrapped around your hips trying to help you stand up without your legs giving out. Jennies eyes widened, she can't let you leave just like that, she will do everything for you to be hers and for her to be yours. "I don't get it love what's wrong please... I can't live a day with the thought of me doing something wrong to you, please... Talk to me my girl" Her voice trembled with the fear of losing you, she rested her head on your shoulder with her lips making contact with your soft skin. You stayed silent, not wanting to sound entitled of her feelings. Who were you for Jennie to love back right? A long wait of silence that felt like an eternity passed, you felt sudden wet and warm tears on your shoulder. Jennie was crying, biting her lips and tightening her hug on you, she can't let the girl of her dreams get away.

"Please..." She pleaded shutting her eyes tight letting her tears flow down even more. You can't do it anymore, your heart can't ache this much for the person you loved the most.

"I love you nini... I love you s-so much, I'm scared that if we do this... everything will change. I want to be your lover. Not just someone who can pleasure you...." You confessed, voice cracking from such pain and sadness you were in. Your heart beating so fast to the point where you can hear every single pump of blood it made.

"Who said I didn't love you?" Jennie asked in you ear, her hand intertwining with yours. She then gently made you face her, seeing her all messy and tearful, it made you feel guilty.

"My Y/n, I love you so much... Maybe a little too much. So never assume that my love for you has limits" She reassured you, your mouth quivering from such heart warming words." So please Y/n, let me declare my love to you, and make you mine and only mine" She promised with determine eyes and lips. The butterflies again reappearing in your stomach. You can't lose anything at this point, and you trust her so much. The feeling of desire of her got back. Smiling, you nodded.

"Please... Please show me how much you love me Nini..." And that was enough to set Jennie off. Taking your hand once more, and she took you to her master bedroom. Pushing you down on the soft comforter you can't help but smile knowing that you both love each other so much. Remembering Jennies words and how much she would do anything for you. "Ready my love?" She asked, rubbing on your bud for you to be more wet. You nodded with a smile and kissed her lips.

"I love you my Nini" you whispered and with those words, she felt eager for you to cum. "I love you more baby" She declared with such a soft voice. She entered inside you, slow and gentle since she knew this was all new to you. Arching your back at her size you close your eyes while grinding on you teeth. "You okay baby?" She asked still trying to make you comfortable with her hand on you cheek. You nodded, the feeling of excitement started as Jennie was almost completely in. Her cock stretching you out on all the right places. You were about to go insane! Whimpering with all the pleasure and pain at the same time, Jennie was breathing heavily. She can't help it, you felt so tight and warm she just wanted to ram inside you hard. You soon noticed Jennie who was frozen in place fighting the urge to thrust in you in the most hardest way possible.

"It's okay Nini... please take me as you like" You smile reassuringly, as long as Jennie was happy you we happy. She Lowered her body and soon kissed your ear while slowly thrusting, hands roaming around your body. "Thank you so much baby, just tell me when to stop..." She whispered all so lovingly, the room starting to get filled with moans and nude sounds from the fastening pace of Jennies hips. Her cock hitting all the amazing spots that leads to your orgasm.

You hear Jennie curse under her breath as she sat up still fucking you hard, bed dancing along her pace. "So fucking pretty baby... My Y/n..." She groaned going even more faster, acting like this is the last time she can fuck you. Your eyes watering again for the hundredth time this night, you whimpers grew louder with the pleasure Jennie was giving you. The familiar feeling forming in you stomach.

"A-ah Nini wait... I'm.." You rambled not being able to finish your sentence as you kept you focus on your coming orgasm with Jennie going even more harder giving emphasis in her thrusts with an amazing rythm. Hands gripping on the sheets with an arc back, you came with angelic moans that sent Jennie over the edge as well, with her cum painting your walls and inside your womb. But still not stopping, she kept thrusting with stuttering hips from her climax. "W-wait unnie I can't!" You got taken a back, your pussy was so sensitive and it only hugged jennies cock more with her warm cum still inside you. She didn't even get limp, in fact you think she only got harder from the orgasm. Still going with a fast pace that the room was echoing with full skin slapping and moaning from the both of you, you felt like fainting, you were getting too overstimulated but god did it feel amazing.

An unfamiliar feeling formed in your stomach, from too much pleasure you felt like something was coming but this time, much more intense. "Unnie I-I ah-!" You moaned while she thrusted even faster and harder making sure to pleasure you. You soon whimpered out while squirting all over jennie. Your hips bucking and stuttering while Jennie got more hungry to cum in you. "God baby you squirted? So good.... Fuck more baby do it again for me?" She asked and when you thought she couldn't fuck you more hard and good, she did! Abusing your already tired cunt out to its limits. Your moans grew louder and louder with the tears rolling down your cheeks none stop. Jennie wanted more, she wanted you to feel insane with the sensation, putting pressure on your bud and soon rubbed it through circular motions. You immediately screamed in pleasure getting close again.

"Fuck I just w-wanna cum in you until I'm dry...god... you make me go insane Y/n" She confessed with one last thrust making you squirt non stop and while she completely came in you with shaking hips, this time she thrusted every pump of cum that came out and into your pussy so you can get all of it, with every thrust you squirted your juices out. You felt bliss all over your body, your stomach feeling so warm and full with tear stains on your cheeks. Jennie catching her breath while watching you tremble and shake from such pleasure that she caused you. She pulled a smirk and went down to kiss your cute lips and soon bit it causing for blood to seep into both of your mouths. Was this heaven? You asked yourself feeling warmth from the girl you loved so much. You two separated from the lack of air, but neither of you wanted to stop, Jennie with her sharp gaze on you, she licked her lips and formed a mischievous smile,

"Ready for round three my baby?"

(°=°')

4:02 AM

After the heaven and bliss that you two experienced, Jennie did after care for you. She can't let her princess go to bed uncomfortable. Bathing you with her scented soap and bath salt making you smell like her. Not forgetting to make you hers for the last time for the night, confessing both of your love to each other.

A/N:

This took me foreverrrrr. Anyways I love this one, I hope you guys enjoyed. Belated happy birthday to my baby jennie!, this was supposed to come out on her bday but I was busy with things. Also I accidentally deleted a request post while writing it so now the req is gone (°^°) I'm working on the req rn I'm so sorry for the long wait anon!

(°=°)

#jennie #kim Jennie #jennie blackpink #blackpink #jennie x female reader #smut #fluff #hyun #jennie x reader #yn #blackpink x reader #twice #nayeon #im nayeon #pang

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