#and see no irony in their actions at all
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I really cannot understand this fandom. One half of it has been complaining about Adrien's "just a friendâ thing for 7 years, while the other half has been proving that friendship and platonic relationships are in no way worse than romance. But somehow this all has flown out of the window as soon as we got romantic pre-reveal Adrienette and platonic Ladynoir.
It's become increasingly obvious to me that some people in this fandom never truly understood the love square. The outrage I've seen operates as if they are separate people, but they're not. The "true selves" mindset is still a bullshit way to make one side seem better than all the rest and isn't rooted in canon no matter how many mental gymnastics people do to justify it. I mean how many times does canon have to say that they are the same people with or without the mask before it sticks for some people and they understand that the love square is ONE SHIP with 4 unique dynamics as a result of secrets. That has always been its appeal. If I see another "the love square is dead bc adrinette is canon now" post I'm gonna scream. The love square as a set of 4 dynamics comprising one ship isn't dead just because one side got together. There has always been platonic dynamics in the square, and saying the other sides are "dead" just because they're platonic is just evidence that people don't know how the square works. The only thing that will ever dissolve the love square is a reveal because that is the only reason we have the love square in the first place. If the kids always knew their identities, we wouldn't have had it. So as long as they don't know their secret identities, the love square dynamics still exist, they are just different now. Something finally changed and development happened, and now people are mad because it wasn't the side they wanted? As if the development of all sides aren't linked and one day going to morph into a unique post reveal dynamic that takes from each side? I mean, it's not like one side hates each other, damn. All sides are pretty much good with each other at this point.
As I've said numerous times, the Adrinette development needed to happen this season. Clearly, or they wouldn't have done it. Marinette's issues stemmed from loving Adrien, so the only way for her to work through them so they can have a healthy post reveal dynamic is for her and Adrien to work through their romantic issues together as a couple. She has no qualms being his friend. All of her stammering and fumbling was always linked to love. The panic she has felt around him this season was linked to love. And I'm glad they're addressing it and finally helping her become comfortable around him. That development is long overdue. Them dating is a good thing, some people in the fandom just never quite grasped the concept that they're all the same people, so they made up this version of canon in their heads where their favorite side was the star of the show and most correct while the rest were just for show. There is no "most correct" side, even with one of them dating. That mindset is reductive and stems from lack of understanding of the characters and their relationship. Even as an Adrinette stan, I'm not saying Adrinette is better than the other sides bc they're the side that has stuck romantically. All of the sides are important and have offered important key development for the ship as a whole. Adrinette couldn't have gotten where it is today without the other 3 sides and vice versa. All of the development is for the benefit of the post reveal dynamic. That is what this show has been building to since day 1.
Honestly, some people in this fandom love showing their ass too much. As someone who has actually watched all of the released eps, the plot this season is actually the best we've had. The development is great and believable (for the most part), the adrinette is simultaneously the sweetest and most angsty shit I've seen in canon thus far. I haven't enjoyed the show this much since s1, yall. Some people just don't value friendship/platonic dynamics and view them as lesser than romantic ones, and it shows. There's no reason to be outraged by the other sides being platonic while one side is dating unless they view platonic relationships as being lesser than romantic ones. It isn't a race, nor a competition, and platonic relationships have just as much value to add as the romantic. They are building to a full completed square where all of the sides dissolve into one dynamic that will be an amalgamation of all sides. Idk why that is hard to understand. RIP to everyone else, but I'm different I guess. đ
#asks#cat replies#ml revelation#ml pretension#ml fandom salt#honestly i just laugh at this point#ive seen people vague post about me and claim im spreading true selves shit (LOL) bc i understand ladybug is marinette and chat is adrien#and then the same people turn around and share a true selves post that props up their side#and see no irony in their actions at all#i just laugh yall#i highly recommend laughing at the clowns and letting them sit and pout about canon not going their way#dont take them seriously#just let them be bitter and drown in their own salt#s5 discourse
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not to beat the "sokka's misogyny" disk horse even further into the ground, but while i agree with the take that sokka being sexist logically doesn't make sense, i would go further to say that the water tribes themselves being sexist is both illogical and thematically contradictory.
the flaws of each nation in atla have always been linked to their element, and specifically what those elements represent. fire is the element of power; power, left unchecked, leads to imperialism and authoritarianism. earth is the element of substance and stability; stability, prioritized too highly, creates and justifies the rigid class system and rampant corruption of ba sing se. air is the element of freedom; freedom, taken too far, becomes irresponsibility and abandonment.
meanwhile, water is the element of change... therefore the water tribes cling to antiquated ideas about gender roles instead of adapting with the times (especially when the times involve a fucking war going on).
not only is this unrealistic, it also breaks the thematic pattern of the nations' flaws being virtues taken to extremes, and how this dovetails into the show's overall message about the importance of balance. if we're keeping with the pattern of virtue and vice being two sides of the same coin, then the flaw of the water tribes has to be related to change. and here is where some of the (badly executed) ideas in the comics and legend of korra could have come into play: change, left uncontrolled, can lead to progress... but at the cost of tradition and spirituality.
(imagine a nwt cut off from the world and forced to rely solely on itself, ingenuity and creativity flourishing out of sheer, desperate need. imagine a nwt where waterbending is nothing more than a tool, used to build and defend and maintain a fortress always at risk, its spiritual origins slowly lost to time. imagine a nwt more military than community, whose architecture and technology far exceed anything the world has ever seen, who look down upon their less advanced sister tribe, and see no need for the avatar - after all, where was he when they had no one but themselves for the last 100 years?
when warned that the fire nation is coming, they show no fear; they have held strong on their own for the last century, bolstered by their weapons and wits, and will continue to do so. you need the spirits, aang implores, and is met with derision, for there is no place for spirits in a society always chasing more, greater, better. the spirits have not helped us before, avatar. why would they now? we are all we need.
when the moon spirit falls, unprotected and forgotten in an abandoned, rundown spirit oasis - so do they.)
not only would this fit better thematically, it would also ensure that the nwt's flaw plays a role in its own downfall. where the fire nation's warmongering resulted in the poverty and suffering of its own people, and the earth kingdom's corruption led - at least in part - to the fall of ba sing se, the misogyny of the water tribes is never shown to negatively impact them in any way. the north isn't defeated by the fire nation because they relegated half the population to healing. the south doesn't suffer raids or lose their waterbenders because they (supposedly) didn't let women fight. this lack of narrative punishment means that - outside of a few girlboss moments for katara - the sexism of the nwt isn't significant to the overall story whatsoever.
furthermore, while the ba sing se arc last almosts half a season, and the fire nation's actions drive the entire show, this supposed systemic oppression of women shows up for one episode in the first season before disappearing entirely. pakku is reminded of his lost love, magically turns into a feminist, and somehow the entire tribe follows suit? no one else protests, not even the other students or the chief?
and yet, though there are still no female waterbenders other than katara, or agency for kanna in her relationship, or any indication that women stopped being forcibly betrothed - the entire issue is simply swept under the rug and never brought up ever again in the show. i understand this was a children's cartoon made in 2005, and that even having female characters openly speak about and challenge misogyny was a radical feat for the time and genre, but the reality of patriarchy is that it's structural, sustained and immensely difficult to resist - if the show was going to depict that resistance, it should have done so with greater depth and nuance, as it did for many of the other difficult topics it tackled.
ultimately, handwaving misogyny away like it never existed is far more disrespectful to katara's character, her fight against injustice, and the girls who saw themselves in her, than simply toning it down or removing it could ever be.
#atla critical#atla live action#it also always struck me as odd that sokka and katara seemed so chill with the north#when the nwt literally left the swt to fight the fire nation alone and stayed out of the war for a century#they lost their benders. their parents.#and all the while the north was sequestered away doing nothing to help#you're telling me that wouldn't have created any resentment? any anger?#plus imagine how powerful it would've been for the last southern waterbender to help the north rediscover the origins of waterbending#also the north disdaining spirits yet being saved by the ocean spirit and the avatar?#that's the exact kind of narrative irony atla does best#i'm seriously begging people to realize that the misogyny arc in atla was NOT as groundbreaking or well-developed as they think it is#and i for one am interested to see if and how netflix is going to handle it
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"The feast of the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist being appointed as the day upon which the coronation of the king [Edward V] would take place without fail, all both hoped for and expected a season of prosperity for the kingdom."
-Excerpt from the Croyland Continuator / David Horspool, Richard III: A Ruler and Reputation
Even though Edward IVâs death was unexpected, after twelve years of peace there need not have been too much of a sense of foreboding about the succession. The great dynastic wound from which the Wars of the Roses had grown had not so much been healed as cauterized by the extinction of the House of Lancaster. There was no rush for London, as had happened in earlier, disputed successions. The royal party didnât set out from Ludlow for ten days after hearing the news of Edward IVâs death, while Richard took his time, too. And the new king had [his mother the dowager queen and] two uncles to support him: his motherâs brother, the sophisticated, cultured, highly experienced Earl Rivers; and his fatherâs, the loyal and reliable Duke of Gloucester, to whom Edward IV had entrusted unprecedented power and vital military command.
... [Richard of Gloucester] had achieved his goal by a mixture of luck and ruthlessness, and if he made it appear, or even believed himself, that destiny played a part, this only made him a man in step with his times. Modern historians have no time for destiny, but sometimes the more âstructuralistâ interpretations of the events surrounding the usurpation can come close to it. When we read that âthe chances of preserving an unchallenged succession were . . . weakened by the estrangement of many of the rank-and-file nobility from . . . high politics, which was partly a consequence of the Wars of the Roses and partly of Edward IVâs own policiesâ, it is hard not to conclude that an unforeseeable turn of events is being recast as a predictable one. But without one overriding factor â the actions of Richard, Duke of Gloucester after he took the decision to make himself King Richard III â none of this could have happened. That is, when the same author concedes âNor can we discount Richardâs own forceful characterâ, he is pitching it rather low*.
Edward IV had not left behind a factional fault line waiting to be shaken apart. Richard of Gloucesterâs decision to usurp was a political earthquake that could not have been forecast on 9 April, when Edward died. After all, Simon Stallworth did not even anticipate it on 21 June, the day before Richard went public. We should be wary of allowing hindsight to give us more clairvoyance than the well-informed contemporary who had no idea âwhat schall happyneâ. This is not to argue that Richardâs will alone allowed him to take the Crown. Clearly, the circumstances of a minority, the existence of powerful magnates with access to private forces, and the reasonably recent examples of resorts to violence and deposition of kings, made Richardâs path a more conceivable one. But Richardâs own tactics, his arrest of Rivers, Vaughan and Grey, the rounding up of Hastings and the bishops, relied on surprise. If men as close as these to the workings of high politics at a delicate juncture had no inkling of what might happen, the least historians can do is to reflect that uncertainty [...].
(*The author who Horspool is referencing and disagreeing with is Charles Ross)
#wars of the roses#edward v#richard iii#edward iv#my post#I'm writing a post on this topic but I have no idea when I'll finish it so I figured I should post Horspool's epic analysis#or should I say epic takedown? <3#friendly reminder that Richard's usurpation happened primarily and decidedly because of Richard's own decisions and actions#we need to stop downplaying his singular agency and accountability by casting the blame on others#most of all Elizabeth Woodville and her family but also the bizarre interpretation of historians like Ross and Pollard (et al)#who somehow hold Edward more responsible (through a 'structuralist' view as Horspool says) even though that literally makes no sense#also friendly reminder that actual contemporaries did not view Edward V's minority as a sign of worry and potential discontent#quite the opposite - they expected him to have a prosperous reign. which made sense since Edward IV left his son a far more stable#country than any former minor king (and most other adult kings tbh). The irony is that it was his son's usurper who benefitted from it.#also I added Elizabeth Woodville to the list because Edward V himself specifically said that he trusted the governance of the country#'to the peers of the realm and the queen' as quoted by Mancini (likely relayed to him by John Argentine)#and this is supported by evidence. After Edward's death the Croyland Continuator substitutes Elizabeth's role in the council#for that of the King: 'the counsellors of the king now deceased were present with the queen'#we know Elizabeth presided over all the council's decisions and initiated proposals (the size of her son's military escort) on her own#She was clearly the one with the most authority in the council (who were described as being present with *her* not anyone else)#Hastings made demands but he couldn't enforce them at all (and was in fact worried). It was clearly Elizabeth who had that power.#She was likely going to play a very prominent role during her son's minority and imo it's problematic to assume otherwise#(Lynda Pidgeon assumes otherwise but she's based her assumption on objectively false information so I don't think we should take her#seriously)(see: she claims that EW lacked influence compared to her male relatives in royal councils when EW HERSELF WAS IN ROYAL COUNCILS)#That's not to go too far the other direction and claim EW tried to dominate and tactlessly exclude others - we know she didn't#The impression we get by this first council and by Richard's own actions indicates that she Richard and Anthony would likely#work *together* when it came to governing the realm#I do find it frustrating when people disregard the fact that based on the impression we have she would've had a very visible#and powerful role
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Uh oh. I accidentally liked a marvel movie. Losing my media snob credibility immediately
#I say like I ever had it as a shounen fan#but man at least shounen is like. earnest#anyways#so I got bored the other night and I thought hey. I havenât watched a marvel movie since endgame#(unfortunately was OBSESSED with the mcu as a teenager so⌠I was all over it before endgame)#but after that I didnât give a shit and I mean endgame was already bad so I stopped watching them#but I wanted to see how bad they REALLY were#and folks let me tell you. they were bad. like. horrendously bad#I watched the doctor strange one and Thor 4 or whatever and man. god awful#soulless pointless poorly made etc etc#and Iâve just been going through all the âphase 4â or whatever the fuck they are movies#and tonight I watched guardians of the galaxy 3 and uh oh. uh oh I liked it#okay admittedly there were parts of it I was rolling my eyes at and it was def tainted by⌠the irony poisoning of the mcu a bit#BUT!!!! but but but it did genuinely feel a lot more earnest than the others and I liked it#and the characters all genuinely cared about each other and it was obvious which for the mcu is ASTONISHING#and I know this is partially because Iâm biased and I love the guardians of the galaxy and rocket in particular is my favorite#and the movie was mostly about him but. dare I sayâŚ.#the movie wasâŚ. good?#okay not like GOOD good but it served itâs purpose as an action flik and was enjoyable and had fun characters#so I feel it did itâs job yk?#I will say I didnât like the ending tho lol#how are you gonna make them all family and say that and ACT like it and then they separate at the endâŚ.#but like thatâs normal for media unfortunately even if it is a trope I hate#kaz rambles
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i think when i read the picture of dorian grey i got way too into trying to understand and form a defensible argument for the philosophy in it because i was very much in my debate team reads the stanford encyclopedia of psychology for fun phase. i mean obviously hedonism is an interesting ideology and the book does talk about it a lot, but i think the prime appeal of the book and why it's a classic is not the philosophy whatsoever it's definitely the drama and the art discussion, and i was so caught up on keeping notes on hedonism that i kind of neglected to pay attention to the characters in the literal and not subtextual sense until the tail end of the novel.
#that being said i am not rereading it lmao#the writing style is very vivid and pretty and kind of... lush is the word i think#but it's also hard as fuck to get through especially because it also does that 1800s lit thing#where there's a few chapters of weird filler mostly describing various fancy things#that doesn't really connect to the rest of the text in the slightest at least not at that long length#when i started the count of monte cristo (need to finish that) the guy who recognized me reading it was like#yeah its a beautiful novel full of some fantastic drama & irony but there's a solid 200 pages of fancy object descriptions#and long lists of names and such#the one exception to this is probably Moby dick which i ALSO need to read in which the filler is very much intentional and necessary to read#it's just very interesting sometimes seeing the different ways that older novels can establish tone and lay out a plot#like the narrative structure is obviously going to be the same (exposition -> actions -> climax don't want to type all the terms out)#but dracula for example has three discinct tonal shifts while dorian grey does it slowly & subtly + uses a timeskip#not that modern novels don't do this lol but it's easier to discern and analyze because i'm not also interpreting older langauge#and weird Victorian publishing quirks like the shitty introduction (scarlet letter) and fancy object chapter
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god this show is too fucking real
#the way orel is so trusting and doesnât even consider how his parents marriage hurts him until he literally cannot ignore it#and the way heâs so so traumatized shown through his actions but doesnât realize it#like when he instinctively grabs clays pants to keep them from falling in 2x4 and then laughs it off . god oh my fucking god#this show hurts so fucking badly /pos#itâs all dramatic irony to the core. we know how fucked up everything is but orel canât see it and we just have to watch GODDDD#FUCKK#đ
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ăi hear you like magic? i've got a wand and a rabbit!
part one | part two
đ pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader
đ tags: nsfw, size kink, virgin!reader, oral sex, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, some mild second-hand embarrassment perhaps, sex toys, edging, failed masturbation attempts, ghost takes your virginity and also maybe ruins you for literally anybody else ever again
masterlist
reblogs are always enormously appreciated!
The ceiling over your head is drab grey and water-stained, the old paint peeling away in strips. Itâs an ugly sight, but you barely see it; youâre too busy trying to catch your breath.
The sheets beneath you are uncomfortably damp with your sweat, but you donât have the energy to roll over just yet. You feel hot and itchy with frustration, and you scowl up at the ceiling above you as your fingers curl into fists. But even though you feel like laying in your now grubby-bedding for the rest of the evening, you canât let yourself wallow. Thereâs going to be a knock on your door any minute, and this is not a position you want to be found in.
With an irritable groan, you haul yourself off the bed and to your feet. Your muscles ache and you feel too warm, but you reach for your clothes anyway. The worn cotton of your shirt feels scratchy against your skin, but maybe thatâs just because youâre still over-sensitive and irritable.
You can never quite bear to look at the aftermath of what youâd been doing, so you avert your eyes as you gather up the bright silicone and plastic devices littering your mattress. Itâs embarrassing now that the adrenaline has worn off and disappointment is beginning to set in, so you end up gathering them all up more roughly than necessary.
The term âtoyâ seems incongruous to you. It sounds too childish, too immature. It makes you sound like a stupid kid, as though you arenât a young adult past twenty fumbling your way through sexual self-exploration. Itâs embarrassing, and much more frustrating than you ever would have predicted â despite all of your clumsy, desperate attempts at pleasuring yourself, youâve never quite managed to reach that peak of pleasure youâve heard other people talking about.
You grumble quietly to yourself as you try to wipe away the sticky lube thatâs still coating your thighs. Your muscles are a little achy from all the tensing youâd been doing trying to come with that stupid vibrator, not even accompanied by the satisfaction you had been hoping for.
Itâs not as though youâve never gotten the opportunity to experiment with others; youâre not unforgivably ugly, you donât think you have a bad personality, and for the past few years youâve been surrounded by military men that certainly arenât known for being picky. And it certainly isnât like you havenât received your fair share of offers.Â
It just never seemed right. Youâre not overly concerned about âsavingâ your virginity or anything like that; itâs just that putting yourself into such a vulnerable position is scary. Youâre aware of the irony, of course, that youâd trust many of these people with saving your ass from catching a bullet in the field, but allowing someone to see you so intimately feels like a step too far.
Youâre still sweaty and flustered and naked when a knock sounds from your door, and you freeze. The doorknob turns, but doesnât open; in that moment, youâre deliriously grateful that you had turned the lock â itâs something that youâve forgotten to do on far too many occasions.
âLass, you in there?â Oh god, itâs Soap.Â
Cursing quietly to yourself, you jolt into action. Your pants are crumpled at the bottom of your bed where you had shed them, and you hurriedly gather them up and struggle your way back into them.
âGimme a minute!â You yell, praying he doesnât notice the somewhat frantic edge to your voice.
You stagger slightly as you worm your way into your pants, and then lunge to grab the stupid dildo youâd just been trying to use. You feel your skin prickle with humiliation as you try to force the stupidly large silicone cock into your already full underwear drawer, jamming it shut roughly to hide it from sight. You donât want to even imagine what Soap might have to say if he were to see what you had been doing; you think you might have to go full deserter mode and abscond into the wilderness.
âDid ye forget about drinks?â Soapâs drawl carries through the thickness of the door. He doesnât sound even slightly put out â if anything, he sounds a little amused.
You pause, close your eyes, sigh. Fuck. You had not, in fact, forgotten about drinks, you just thought you had more time.
âNo, Iâ just a minute!â You yell back, shoving your shoes on and trying to fix your hair.
You had completely lost track of time, and now you donât even have time to rinse your sweat-damp skin off â youâre going to have to sit through drinks with the squad all grimy, like a physical reminder of what you had been up to for the last two hours.
When you finally unlock the door and wrench it open, Soap is standing on the other side tapping a staccato rhythm on his thighs with his open palms. Heâs dressed casually in just blue jeans and a black muscle shirt, and he gives you a look of semi-disbelief.
âWhat the hell were youââ
âGym.â You interrupt, landing on the only explanation you can think of for your sweaty skin and messy hair.
Soap blinks, but apparently decides itâs not worth the effort to continue that line of conversation. He just shrugs, then turns and starts making his way down the hall, slowing his pace for you to catch up.
You exhale; Soap can be like a bloodhound when he suspects thereâs gossip to be had, and youâre relieved to have dodged a round of his relentless questioning. You suppose he can be surprisingly tactful sometimes, and he knows you well enough not to press you. Or, perhaps itâs because you come across as such a non-sexual being that it doesnât even occur to him that there may be another explanation.
Thereâs an unofficial tradition that when the squad is on base, everyone gathers in the sparsely decorated recreation room for drinks and card games on Thursday evenings. It usually makes for an enjoyable night; Gaz and Soap can always be trusted to supply whatever bottles of alcohol theyâve managed to get their grubby little hands on, and itâs always amusing to watch Captain Price get increasingly more irate as Soap pretends not to understand the rules of whatever card game theyâre playing. The whole illicitness of having contraband on base only makes the whole thing more exciting; the COâs on base often turn a blind eye to the activity, so long as itâs kept under control.
But tonight, youâre distracted.
The others had offered a bit of good-natured ribbing when you and Soap had turned up late, but before long youâre all settled in a loose circle on the poorly-stuffed couches in the corner of the room. Gaz has already unstoppered a bottle of bourbon, and is attempting to convince a visibly unimpressed Price to play a game of Kings with them. You curl up on one of the worn-out couches opposite them, watching with a small if slightly stiff smile.
The atmosphere is relaxed and pleasant, almost enough to make you forget about the irritating buzz of unfulfilled arousal under your skin. You shift, trying to keep your movements small, subtle, to avoid the notice of your team. Your denim jeans are nowhere near as comfortable as usual, and you wonder briefly if you should have simply worn your cargo pants just to avoid the harsh friction of the denim.
You sit there feeling⌠unmoored. You fidget, drink your smooth bourbon in sips in an attempt to avoid wincing, and try not to look as obviously out of place as you feel. Itâs been like this, recently. Joining the task force has been an accomplishment for you, a source of immense pride â youâre the youngest member (just narrowly beating Gaz for the title) and a woman to boot, and though the squad has never treated you any differently itâs hard to kick the belief that you have something to prove.Â
You engage in conversations the best you can, but youâre distracted and you know it must be obvious. Your preoccupation gets you a couple of furrowed brows and glances, but there seems to be an unspoken agreement to give you some space.
You donât even realise the extent of your distraction until a big body settles down on the loveseat next to you, and you jolt. True to his name, Ghost had appeared near silently, escaping your notice until he lowers himself down to sit next to you.
And damn, you forget how big he is sometimes. Itâs an average sized loveseat, but the lieutenant takes up over half of it. Heâs obviously being mindful not to consciously crush you, but heâs not being overly cautious when it comes to avoiding touching you. Heâs dressed unusually casually, and his thick, muscled thigh is wrapped in blue denim as it presses carelessly against yours.Â
âYou alright?â He asks, his voice low and smooth as he nudges your knee with one of his big knuckles.
You havenât been a member of the task force for long, but you would know Simon Riley by his hands alone, by the earthy salt-spice in your nose as he leans a little closer to peer at your face. You tilt your head up, unable to stop the small reflexive smile that breaks over your face at the sight of him.
âYeah.â You breathe, hurriedly straightening up where youâre sitting. âYeah, sorry. Just thinking.â
His sudden proximity isnât doing your current state any favours, and you take a quick sip of your drink in an effort to collect yourself. Itâs taking a herculean effort not to stare at the way his biceps are bulging against the straining material of his black cotton t-shirt.
âWhatâre you thinking about?â Ghost asks as he stretches out his legs with a tired groan. The sound is gruff and gravelly, and you feel blood rush uncomfortably to your cheeks.Â
âNothing.â You say quickly.
He doesnât believe you, that much is obvious, but Ghost never pushes and he rarely speaks more than he has to. He just gives you a glance, brief and knowing and far more penetrating than it should be, before turning his head back so he can watch the boys playing their card game. Heâs holding a crystal tumbler filled with dark amber liquid, but he hasnât yet pulled his mask up to drink from it.
Your eyes drop to the thick, pale scars that mar the backs of his hands. You trace the path of the scar tissue, eyes lingering around the thick knuckles and broad palms, the way that he holds the glass so casually confidently. Heâs got nice hands, probably made all the more attractive by the fact that you hardly ever get to see them. Seeing Ghost without his usual long sleeves and gloves makes you feel like a Victorian pervert snatching stolen glances at a passing ladyâs ankles.
A quiet snicker causes your eyes to dart back to his face, and youâre mortified to find that heâs caught you staring.
âWhatâs got you in such a mood?â He asks. Even through the mask you can tell that heâs smirking, though it doesnât feel as though heâs making fun of you.
âJust one of those days, I guess.â You say without meeting his eyes.
Itâs an evasion at best, but Ghost nods ponderously as though heâs giving this great thought. His stare is penetrating, those big brown eyes watching you as though he can see right through you. Maybe he can. You try not to get too caught up staring at his pale eyelashes, darkened by smears of eyeblack.
âDid something happen?â He asks. The question is casual enough, asked as he lazily swirls his whiskey around in his glass, but his gaze is sharp and assessing.
âNo.â You sigh, finally looking properly at him.
Itâs a little frustrating, but the squad has been like this with you from the start â protective. Your whole military career has consisted of you veritably clawing your way up through the ranks, and youâve been surrounded by coarse, gruff men that have underestimated you all your life. 141 is different â they donât baby you, but the way they treat you is unmistakably softer than how they typically treat each other. The concern can be touching, if a little tiring sometimes.
And maybe itâs because heâs your lieutenant, but Ghostâs attention has always been just this side of overwhelming. It feels like youâre pinned beneath his dark eyes, his gaze somehow sharpened as he watches you from beneath his more casual balaclava, the skull pattern printed on his jaw adding another layer of intimidation. But his shoulders are relaxed as he sits next to you on the small couch, settling the weight of his attention over you like a blanket.
Youâve always respected him, admired him. How could you not? Heâs practically a living legend, his reputation larger than life, and heâs scary as fuck. But heâs also softer than you had expected, gentle when he needs to be. He still rides you hard in training, pushing you to your limits and taking no quarter, but you canât begrudge that. Not when you know heâs working to keep you alive. Perhaps thatâs how the attraction had first bloomed; once it started, it was hard to stifle.
Ghost hooks one finger into his balaclava and pulls it up just high enough to expose his mouth, and he presses his glass to his lips to take a sip of his drink. You struggle not to stare like a moron, but he makes it so difficult. His lips are full and pink, and thereâs a rugged scar bisecting his top lip. His stubble is dark blond and short, and it doesnât hide the various scars and marks that decorate his strong jawline.Â
You almost jolt when he pulls the mask back down, hurriedly averting your eyes and forcing yourself to look out across the room. Itâs not just the 141 thatâs decided to take up in the rec room this evening; there are soldiers from other units littered all around the room, laughing and joking, playing lazy games of pool on the table in the corner and smoking. The smoke alarm has been jimmied off the ceiling and the window is open, and even Price is turning a temporary blind eye to the blatant disregard for regulations in favour of puffing on one of his cigars.Â
Ghost shifts on the worn-out fabric of the couch, and lays an arm over the back of the headrest behind you. Itâs a casual, thoughtless movement, but it ends up pushing his body slightly closer to you in a way that makes you feel as though youâre about to catch fire.
You cross your legs, but the seam of your jeans presses into your pussy in a way that sends a frisson of heat up your spine. You hurriedly uncross your legs, and attempt to school your expression into casual neutrality as you force yourself to tune back into the conversation.
ââach, câmon, Captain,â Soap is saying in a wheedling tone that he probably thinks is endearing. âOne round of strip poker wonât kill yaââ
âNo.â Price says in a voice like thunder, brooking no argument as thick cigar smoke pours from his nose. It gives the impression of an enraged bull.
Soap either is ignorant to the warning, or is choosing to wilfully ignore it. Judging by the sly gleam in his eyes, you can guess which. He turns to you then, and waggles his eyebrows.
âCâmon, lassie, youâll play, wonât ya?â He asks with a grin that promises trouble. âI guarantee youâll be a sight better than any oâ these louts.â
âSpeak for yourself,â Gaz pipes up, already grinning. âI was looking forward to seeing the Captain in his jocksââ
Price promptly knocks his drink back, before pushing himself up to his feet with a grim groan. âRight. Thatâs enough of you lot for one night.â
Gaz and Soap break into peals of laughter, settling back into their seats as they watch their captain march away.
âOfferâs still open, love,â Soap says, still snickering when he looks over to you. âWanna play?â
Ghost shifts, his wide thigh knocking into yours as his arm stretches behind your shoulders. He lets out a short exhale through his nose, but when you glance up at him you find him as stoic and hard to read as always.
You just roll your eyes. Itâs not the first time that theyâve tried to rope you into strip poker, and youâre sure it wonât be the last. You can always trust Soap to start stripping his clothes off when heâs three drinks in, whether heâs playing a game or not, so itâs not surprising that he tries to involve other people in his bad decision making.
And itâs not a big deal, really. Thereâs been countless missions and operations that have ended up with all of you staying in uncomfortably close quarters with each other. Youâve seen them naked countless times, and the same with them for you. Itâs never meant anything, and you know that Soapâs teasing is exactly that â you donât think theyâve ever once looked at you through any sexual lens at all.
But even still, the joke flusters you more than it should.
âThink Iâll be joining Cap in going to bed, actually.â You say, clearing your throat and setting your glass down on the low table in front of the couch.
The playful booing from Soap doesnât do much to change your mind, and you stick out your tongue at him and Gaz as you push yourself up from the couch. You try to ignore the loss of heat at your side when you move away from Ghost, though you canât help but glance back at the lieutenant. Heâs not looking at you, his gaze directed into his glass. You try not to feel disappointed about that.
You say your goodnights, and retreat from the rec room.
By the time you make it back to your dorm however, youâre already playing the conversation back over in your head and wondering if you had made the wrong decision.
Perhaps you should have just played the damn game. Despite your inexperience with all things sexual, youâre not actually all that shy about your body. On missions, you and the squad are often forced into tight quarters, and they've all seen you in various stages of undress before. It's hard to be self-conscious around a group of people that have seen you at your worst, whether thatâs soaked in blood, unshowered, sleep-deprived, or injured.
But you were so keyed up from your earlier failed attempts at masturbation that the thought of being so physically exposed in front of your squad is mortifying. It feels as though your unresolved arousal is still simmering through your veins, turning your thoughts slow and soupy and stupid.Â
Itâs not so surprising. Your preferred method of dealing with stress is coming back to your private bunk and messing around with your vibrator until youâve forgotten all of your problems. The problem is, youâve never quite been able to reach that climax youâve heard so many talk about.
Itâs not for lack of trying, and itâs not as though you havenât come close to that toe-curling finish you crave so much. But itâs like thereâs some sort of block, something that always holds you back before you can go plummeting over that edge. Something that makes the buzzing pleasure dissipate before your eyes like smoke, leaving you worked up and so frustrated. Itâs probably inevitable that all those ruined finishes have built up like sludge in your veins, leaving you slow and distracted and irritable.
You eye your underwear drawer thoughtfully as you perch on your bed, before reaching inside and drawing out the same dildo you had been using earlier. You wonder if it would be too much to try again tonight â the muscles in your calves still feel a little bit over-worked from training all day, and you have a feeling that straining in an attempt to reach an orgasm youâll likely never attain will only make it worse.
But the thought of Ghost in that stupid tight cotton shirt stays firmly stuck in your mind, and that really makes the decision for you. Before you can think too much about it, youâre sliding your jeans off and climbing atop your mattress. The sheets are dirty anyway, after all. May as well have some fun before you change them.
You slide your panties off next, then kick them to the side. Itâs difficult not to feel a little pathetic, but you push those feelings aside. So what if you have an embarrassing little crush on a superior officer? Itâs not like thatâs unusual within the military, and youâre quite certain that dealing with all that unresolved attraction like this is the most sensible thing you can do.
You fish out the bottle of lube you had been using earlier, and drizzle it liberally along the dildoâs length before setting it aside on the blanket. While youâve used your dildo plenty of times, you still struggle to grow accustomed to the stretch of it. Itâs a good dildo â a vibrating one in the rabbit style, designed to stimulate your g-spot and clit at the same time. It was damn expensive too, but itâs one luxury youâre willing to indulge in.
You close your eyes, slide it between your legs, and hit the power button. A low bzzz emanates from between your thighs; you jerk at the immediate barrage of pleasure, your abs tightening and your legs twitching apart, creating more room between them.
Your body is quick to react, sweat prickling under your armpits and your heart thudding quickly in your chest. You can feel electric pleasure coursing through you as you press it against your clit, your toes curling into your sheets.
You bring the vibrator lower, your clit throbbing a little at its sudden absence before you press it inside, sighing. It slips inside much too easily â youâre almost embarrassed by the easy slide. Youâre so wet, both from your failed attempt at masturbation earlier and from sitting beside Simon fucking Riley all evening. Itâs a deeper, subtler pleasure now, and you clench around it with a quiet moan.Â
You cycle through the vibratorâs different settings, making it buzz at odd intervals or lower intensities in your usual attempt to build up an orgasm. You wish, with sudden and mortifying clarity, that it could be replaced with a person. More specifically, a person with big hands and firm muscles that still have some soft give to them, and a toe-curlingly gravelly voice.
You squirm, shifting your hips to change the angle of the vibrator inside you. Without meaning to, you imagine Ghost. Itâs hard not to, considering your close proximity to him all evening. Your cheeks heat as you imagine Ghost actually being here, watching you all still and silent with that penetrating dark-eyed stare of his.Â
You huff out a breath, arching off your bed. This is always the best part. You have to ensure that you relish the build up, before it all fizzles out from between your fingers. You whimper, soft and quiet, clenching around the stiff silicone as it buzzes away inside of you.
Right as you press the soft little vibrating bunny ears to your clit, thereâs a knock on the door. Then, horrifically, like a scene from your fucking nightmares, your door opens.
âKid, youââ
Ghost is already half-way through the door when he lays eyes on you, and then he goes completely still in your doorway.
âFuck.â You hiss, scrambling to knock the stupid thing off.Â
You fumble for it, panicking. The end is slippery and you can barely manage to grip it. When you finally do, itâs difficult to pull out, your body still attempting to hold it inside. Itâs another agonising few seconds to turn it off, the vibrator unfortunately featuring one of those awfully thought-out designs that makes you have to cycle through every single one of the settings rather than hit an off-switch.
And then, finally, silence.
Ghost is living up to his name right now; heâs as stock still and silent as a dead man, stiff as a board as he stares unblinkingly at you. Youâre not even sure that heâs breathing, but you can see the whites of his eyes as he gapes at you, frozen.
You stare back at him blankly, hoping that your bed comes to life and swallows you whole just to put an end to your mortification.
At last, Ghost blinks, then finishes his sentence. âYou left your phone.â
He lifts his arm. In his large, thick fist, is your stupid goddamn phone. You must have left it on the couch when you had gotten up to leave. You might have wondered at the lieutenant voluntarily bringing it to your dorm for you, but youâre hit with a wave of humiliation so strong that it wipes your brain completely blank.
âAh.â You say, and your voice cracks. âThanks.â
Thereâs a moment of mortifying silence, and then Ghost steps into your room. Your heart jolts right up into the base of your throat as he closes your door behind him. The click of the door is as loud as a gunshot in the silence thatâs settled over the room.
Ghost still hasnât blinked. Heâs watching you with eyes that look almost black in the dim light of your room, intense as a predator.Â
âIââ You attempt to speak, and your throat clicks dryly. âI didnâtââ
Far too late, you realise that your legs are still splayed open. You snap them shut, inhaling a choked breath through your nose.
âI thought I locked the door.â You finish lamely.Â
Ghost apparently decides to simply disregard that, which youâre honestly a little grateful for. Instead he steps towards you â the enormous bulk of him feels as though heâs completely filling every bit of space in the room, sucking out all the damn oxygen.
â...âS this why you were so distracted this evening, hm?â He says as he approaches the bed. âYou were in a mood âcause you wanted to get back to playing with yourself?â
Itâs not a question, exactly. At least, itâs not phrased like one. Ghostâs tone is knowing, with an undertone of gruff amusement. Youâre certain that youâre not imagining the rough, breathless quality to his voice either, though the thought sends nerves fizzing through your bloodstream.
âNo.â You deny uselessy; itâs plainly obvious what you were doing, after all. âNo, I justââ
He doesnât wait for you to finish. His eyes are still glued to you, even though your thighs are now pressed together. Before you can stop him, he reaches down and takes a hold of your hot pink vibrator where you had been trying to hide it beneath your thigh.
âCute little thing.â He comments, tilting his head to look at the dildo hanging between his thick fingers.
Mortification burns through you. A panicked sort of screech escapes you and you yank it back out of Ghostâs stupid big hand, shoving it under the blankets.Â
Perhaps if it had been anyone else, your humiliation wouldnât be burning quite so intensely. But this is Ghost â your lieutenant, the gruff man that youâve looked up to ever since you joined the task force. Heâs not a man famed for his patience, nor for his eloquence, which is making this situation all the more unbearable.
âLt,â You wheeze, scrambling to sit up and cover your pussy with your hands as you squeeze your legs closed. âI swear I didnâtâ Iâm sorryââ
But Ghost doesnât seem interested in your apologies. Heâs still watching you as though he can see right through the damn blanket, as though heâs measuring you up and trying to come to a decision about something. In that moment, you hate your reaction to him â no matter how humiliating this situation is, you want him to approve of you, even now.
âDidnât mean to interrupt.â He grunts, and then he sits down on your bed.
You gape at him. It feels as though your brain has stalled; youâre pretty sure youâre not reacting correctly right now. You probably should have screamed when the lieutenant walked right into your room without knocking. That surely would have sent him straight back out again. And even now, you should probably be ordering him out, telling him to leave.Â
But you donât.
âI was.. um.. finished anyway.â You manage to croak out. You sound so pathetic that you nearly make yourself cringe.
Ghost doesnât answer immediately. He just watches you, his eyes as dark as ever beneath the mask. For a moment, you think heâs not going to answer at all.
But then he says, âDidnât look like you finished to me.â
Blood rushes to your face so quickly that it makes you light-headed as you catch his meaning. Oh, what the fuck. This is just adding salt to the wound now.
âI wasnât trying toââ You start, then cut yourself off. âThatâs not why I wasâ I was just trying to relax.â
In the ensuing silence, you realise how silly you sound. At the very least, Ghost doesnât laugh; he just tilts his head to the side, consideringly.
âLet me see.â
You gape at him. âIâ sirââ
âLet me see, sergeant.â
Itâs not an order. Not quite. Ghostâs voice is effortlessly assertive, but it falls just short of being a command. You have room to refuse. You could tell him to get out of your dorm right now, and heâd do it. Knowing the lieutenant, heâd never bring it up again, either.
You drop your knees apart, spreading your thighs in an unpracticed, self-conscious sort of motion.Â
Under the lieutenantâs sharp gaze, your skin prickles and your nerves strain. Even sitting down on your bed, heâs a veritable behemoth of broad shoulders and thick corded muscle. His hulking form towers over you even now, and you feel so damn small as you lay there propped up against your pillows in nothing but a t-shirt.
Ghost has seen you naked before, obviously. You canât afford to be prudish in the military, where you never know when youâll next have true privacy, and youâve changed out and showered with the squad countless times. Itâs never meant anything, and the men in 141 have never made you feel anything less than comfortable with them.
This, however, is different. This isnât just a case of catching a quick glimpse of your nude form as you shower in the group shower rooms when youâre out on missions â your whole damn pussy is out on display for him, still glistening wet and sticky from your ministrations and the lube youâd used.
Ghostâs inhale is as loud as a thunderclap. Youâve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable in another personâs presence. You feel a little ridiculous laying like this as he watches you, but another part of you feels so humiliatingly desperate for some kind of approval from your lieutenant.Â
At first, that approval is nowhere to be found. Ghost is notoriously difficult to read, and youâre beginning to sweat as you lay there waiting for a response â any response.
At last, he makes a noise. Itâs part grunt, part hum, and part groan.
âYouâre still wet, sergeant.â
Are you imagining it, or is his voice an octave deeper than usual?Â
Your eyes trace his face, trying to imagine what he looks like beneath the mask. You can see the suggestion of his nose, the square curve of his jaw. His darkened eyes are watching you so carefully that you feel as though youâre physically being pinned in place.
You swallow. âItâs justâ Iââ
âYou didnât get to finish.â Ghost interrupts, with the air of completing your sentence for you.Â
You try to speak, but nothing more than a strangled sort of murmur escapes. You swallow hastily, then try again.
âI wasnât going to. Sir.â You tack on the title at the end as an afterthought, but this whole situation is so far beyond professional that you probably neednât have bothered. âFinish, I mean. I⌠I never do.â
Youâve admitted it before you can really think about it, and then you regret it wildly. You canât help but wonder if youâve overstepped a boundary, but then again the boundaries are currently so blurred that theyâre virtually impossible to discern.
âYou never finish.â Ghost repeats it. Slowly, staring right at your face, as though heâs confirming what youâve just said.Â
It sounds so much worse in his deep, gravelly voice.
Embarrassment blooms, thick and sickly in your stomach. Your legs start to twitch closed, too embarrassed to be having this conversation with your cunt bared like this, but then Ghostâs big paw of a hand reaches out to settle over your knee, keeping you open and exposed. Itâs so rare to see his hands ungloved, and the bare skin of his callous-roughened hand feels almost scorching hot against your inner knee.
âI donâtâ Iâve tried,â You say, and you canât help but feel as though youâre just digging yourself further into a hole, here. âBut I donâtâ Iâm not able to. I mean, Iâve come close, Iâm just not able to⌠you know.â
You trail off lamely, feeling like the biggest fucking loser ever. Why are you telling him this? Why the fuck havenât you reacted properly, and kicked him the hell out of your room?
Deep down, a shameful little part of you already knows the answer to that. Youâre feeling awfully, sickeningly hopeful. Having Lieutenant Riley in your dorm, sitting on your bed and staring so hungrily at the wet, swollen parts between your legs feels like something out of your wildest wet dreams.
His eyes flick towards your pink silicone rabbit dildo, half-hidden under your blanket, and he grunts consideringly before reaching out and taking it into his hands again. Itâs standard-size, but it looks small in his big hands.
âYou ainât doinâ it right, then.â He says, so bluntly that you just blink at him. âShow me how you use it.â
For a brief, wild moment, you wonder if youâre experiencing visual and auditory hallucinations right now. Surely you canât really be experiencing this right now â and yet the lieutenant is still watching you, and youâve never disobeyed a direct order before.Â
He hands you the vibrator, then waits expectantly.
And⌠well. All you ever try to do is impress him.Â
You shuffle your legs open a little wider, ignoring the flustered heat that scalds your cheeks. Youâve never been all exposed like this in front of another person, and the weight of Ghostâs eyes on you is reminiscent of being under a spotlight.
You swear his eyes darken even further when you press the stiff silicone rabbit dildo to your cunt, if itâs even possible for that gaze to get darker beneath the thick balaclava and eyeblack smeared over the narrow strip of skin thatâs visible.
The dildo sinks in so easily that itâs almost embarrassing, and your breath catches both from the stretch and the way Ghost leans in a little closer to see. Far from turning you off, you feel your body throb in response to his proximity, and your cunt flutters pathetically around the plastic toy. You shift, attempting to get a little more comfortable, but you canât dispel the nerves fizzing in your blood as you attempt to push the dildo a little deeper under Ghostâs sharp gaze.
His big, hulking body is so perfectly still as he watches you that itâs making you a little nervous. The only reaction that you get from him is a small, considering hum, but even then you canât figure out what it means. Your movements are a little clumsy, so hyper-conscious that heâs watching every single thing you do that you end up fumbling a little. Heâs looking at you in the same way he assesses threats, his intense dark eyes examining every movement and reaction you make. It makes you feel small and jittery, especially when you realise that heâs judging you by what youâre doing.
âYou gonna turn it on?â He asks, and oh god his voice has definitely dropped lower and huskier. You know youâre not imagining it.Â
You canât even bring yourself to respond with words. You just make a strangled sort of sound of agreement, then clumsily hit the on button. The toy buzzes to life once more, and your toes curl absent-mindedly into the sheets as the soft silicone bunny ears pulse against your clit.
It feels nice, but you canât manage to concentrate on the feeling. Hyper-aware of Ghostâs attention, you let out a quiet moan as you shift the vibrator inside you. Itâs a little exaggerated, but you canât help it â you feel like you should be putting on some kind of a show.Â
You glance back at Ghostâs face, trying to guess what heâs thinking; even through the mask, you can tell that heâs frowning. You feel your stomach clench anxiously. Have you done something wrong?
âThis how you usually do it?â He asks.
You swallow thickly, feeling a bit stupid. âUm.. yeah.â
Ghost grunts. He doesnât sound impressed.
âNo wonder you canât come.â He says wryly.
You go still, eyes widening. In the silence, the bzzzzt! of your stupid vibrator is louder than ever. A sudden wave of shame washes over you, and you start to close your legs again in an effort to block the sight of the toy stuffed into your pussy.
âOh,â You snap sourly, your embarrassment making you irritable. âSo youâre the pussy expert now?â
That startles a loud bark of a laugh out of the lieutenant, a sound so rare that you find yourself desperately trying to commit it to memory.
âThink I might know a bit more than you, sweetheart.â He says. Heâs relaxed now, his wide shoulders rolling back. Heâs always so effortlessly confident, always so assured in himself and his abilities in a way that makes you feel like a silly little girl.Â
Judging by the way the corners of his eyes are just slightly wrinkled beneath the mask, Ghost is smirking at you. He finds this funny.
âWhat about when youâre with other people, hm?â He asks, and his eyes drop back down to try and get a look at you again. When he realises that your legs are clamped tight together, he reaches out to guide your thighs apart again. âNo oneâs ever impressed you?â
His hands are big and rough and hot, and your willpower crumbles like wet paper as you allow him to open your legs all over again. The vibrator is still buzzing sadly inside you, mostly forgotten about; the stimulation is nice, but itâs never been enough for you.
You huff a weak laugh. You should have known that this would come up, and now you find yourself floundering a little.
âNo oneâs ever tried.â The confession comes out like a whisper, like a secret.
You can see the moment Ghost understands; realisation settles heavy over him like a physical weight, and the whites of his eyes flash as they widen just slightly. For a moment, he says nothing at all. He doesnât move â it doesnât even look like he breathes.Â
âNo?â He says, except it doesnât really sound like a question. It sounds rough, and you can feel the almost convulsive motion of his fingers tightening around your knee.Â
You shake your head wordlessly, beyond embarrassed now.
Ghostâs wispy blond eyelashes flutter softly as his eyes dart down to your pussy, still humiliatingly stuffed with your stupid little vibrator. He takes a moment to stare, then looks back up to your face. Heâs so frustratingly confident about everything he does, not an ounce of shame in his posture even as you wilt beneath him.
âNever messed around with anybody?â
âNo.â You say, and it comes out on a wheeze. He holds your gaze without faltering, and you realise that heâs expecting you to elaborate. âNo, Iâ it just never happened. I was never⌠um, I was just always too busy, I guess.â
âToo fussy, more like.â He mutters, quiet enough that it seems like itâs a comment meant just for himself. You donât know how to take that, so you chew your lip and stay quiet.
His eyes drop down to the vibrating dildo again, and you recognise something that looks like a flash of hunger. It feels like thereâs pressure building up beneath your skin, tight and hot, and your thighs fall open a little further. You feel raw and so, so exposed, but you donât even care when Ghost is looking at you like that.
âLet me try.â He says, the words falling out sharp and harsh as though he theyâve burst out of his mouth before he can stop them. Itâs not like Ghost to speak without thinking it through, perfectly calculated, and your breath catches a little at the offer.
How could you ever say no to that? You donât really think that heâs going to succeed in making you come â at this point youâre pretty sure your body is a little bit broken and youâre just not capable of orgasming at all, and thatâs whatever â but the chance to get fucked by Ghost? To lose the lingering vestiges of your viriginity to your ridiculously hot, mysterious, massive lieutenant? Itâs like something out of a dream.
âOkay.â You choke out, nodding stupidly. âYeah.â
You want to be touched. You donât think youâve ever actually felt the yearning for physical contact this strongly in your life; youâre practically holding your breath as you wait for Ghost to make a move.
Finally, he reaches out. His first move is to pull the stupid little dildo out of you, still vibrating, and you feel yourself clench convulsively around nothing as he leaves you empty and wanting. He spares it a brief, evaluating glance, and you feel yourself burn as you realise heâs examining how youâve soaked the toy.
He tosses it to the side, barely even taking the time to switch it off first, then turns his attention back to you. Heâs got that same kind of laser-focus he usually only gets out on the field, and you take a moment to feel incredibly grateful that youâre never going to be on the receiving end of that terrifying scrutiny on the battlefield.
It feels like your skin is too tight for your body, every nerve and synapse strained and primed as you wait for him to touch you. But heâs slow about it, as though he just wants to torture you a little bit.Â
When he finally reaches out to lay his hands on you, he doesnât touch where you want him to.
His callous-roughened hands land on your hips, and pull you down the bed towards him. In the same move, he half-climbs up on the mattress, his huge form practically dwarfing you. Your head and shoulders are still cushioned by your pillows, but your legs are splayed open around Ghost where he kneels on your bed.
You glance down, unable to help yourself, unable to resist trying to catch a look at the outline of his erection pressing against his trousers, and oh. Fuck. Heâs big. You knew heâd be big, of course, heâs big all over, but Jesus Christ, maybe youâre a little out of your own depth hereâ
His thick fingers tangle in the hem of your t-shirt, stretching the fabric out. âTake this off.â
You scramble to do as he says, grabbing at your top and pulling it up clumsily. You realise a moment too late that youâre not wearing a bra, but you suppose at this point it hardly matters. You drop your shirt to the side, and try not to feel too horrifically self-conscious beneath the burning hot gaze of the lieutenant.
Though you canât see Ghostâs face, you can hear the soft exhale he blows out through his nose, just faintly muffled by the fabric of his mask. His eyes are trained on your chest, darting between each of your tits as though he canât decide which one to settle on. After a long moment, he reaches forward and cups your left tit with one of his enormous hands, thumbing absently at one of your nipples.
Itâs silly; Ghost has touched you before. Lots of times. A nudge of the elbow accompanied by a conspiratorial eye roll, a clap to the shoulder, rough hands pulling you to your feet after training or applying white-hot painful pressure to injuries. But this â youâve never been touched like this before, not by Ghost, not by anyone.
The shaky breath you let out as his big, rough thumb rolls over your firm nipple comes out as a strangled sort of moan that honestly startles you a little. The noise catches his attention, and he snorts.
âCanât be that sensitive.â He mutters, but then he reaches to thumb at your other nipple as though trying to be sure.
Itâs because youâve never been touched like this by another person before, you tell yourself. Truthfully, youâve never even touched yourself like this before. Youâve never bothered to play with your own tits; youâve always just gone straight to breaking out your vibrators. Now, with every brush of Ghostâs scarred fingers over the tight bud of your nipples, you think you must have been crazy to skip over this part of yourself. But then again, thereâs no way that your own hands on yourself would elicit the same sharp jolt that shoots from your breasts down your spine.
âSirââ You breathe, struggling not to squirm where youâre laying. You wonder, somewhat deliriously, if it might be rude to demand your lieutenant stuff his thick fingers into your pussy. You can already tell that theyâre going to feel so much better than your own.
Ghost glances up at you, his eyes unreadable as he watches you bite at your lip. God, his little wispy eyelashes are so blondâ
âWhat?â He says, his voice deep enough that you swear you can feel it rumbling through your bones. âSay it.â
âWant to try your fingers.â You breathe before you can second-guess yourself.Â
The laugh that rumbles out of Ghostâs chest is low and smoky. Itâs probably impossible to miss the way your eyes have been drawn to his hands all evening, so big and corded with veins and muscle and scar tissue. Youâve witnessed those hands crack bones and snap necks and break down doors, and yet you canât help but wonder desperately what theyâre going to feel like when he starts touching you properly.
He adjusts himself on the bed; heâs a big man, hulking and huge as he kneels on your mattress, his weight causing it to dip. His palms wrap around your ankles with ease, and he hauls you into place with a grim efficiency that goes straight to your pussy.
âBig brute.â You say, a little breathlessly.
He ignores you, using his arms to hold your legs open and wide for him. And all you can do is just lie there as he stares, because goddamn itâs like heâs been carved from steel and you canât break out of his grip. Not that you want to break out of his grip anyway, but youâd really appreciate it if he actually got moving instead of just staring.
âFuck,â He grunts after a moment, with the air of talking to himself. âBeen hiding this all this time, huh?â
âJesus.â You breathe in response, subconsciously letting your legs drop open even more.
He makes a low noise of appreciation, and finally reaches out to touch you properly. One thick thumb swipes through the seam of your cunt, and you feel the way heâs smearing the clear sticky wetness thatâs been leaking steadily out of you. With his now slick thumb, he drags up towards your clit and circles it with agonisingly light pressure.
You let out an embarrassing choked whine, your toes curling at the sensation. Somewhat ironically, Ghost is handling you far more gently than you usually touch yourself, and you find yourself flexing your hips in an attempt to get him to touch you with more pressure. He ignores your attempts, keeping his pace implacably steady and slow.
âDâyou always get this wet?â
You canât even tell if heâs asking you mockingly or if heâs being genuinely curious; it feels like every inch of your focus has narrowed down to the feel of his big thumb rolling those tight little circles around your clit, his touch scorching against you.
Itâs not exactly surprising that Ghost is good with his hands. Youâve seen the way he handles weaponry, locking and loading and aiming to fire with the kind of swiftness that comes from muscle memory, working with unwavering speed and precision. Heâs the same in hand-to-hand combat, moving with aggressive fluidity that overwhelms his opponents. Youâve caught hits from him before in training, and you know from experience that a punch from those big hands feels like getting hit by a cinder block.
But even knowing how deft and skilled his hands are, it knocks the breath out of you when he slides his middle and ring fingers inside of you, still rubbing steadily at the swollen bump of your clit.Â
When you exhale, it accidentally comes out as a moan. Your cheeks burn, but thereâs really no space in your brain right now for embarrassment to sink in. Two of Ghostâs fingers are the equivalent of at least three and a half of yours, and you feel yourself break out into an overwhelmed sweat when they twist and rub against the sensitive squishy spot in the front wall of your cunt.
Youâre so damn worked up, your arousal coiled like a knot in your lower belly from your failed attempts to get yourself off all day. Your back curves, humping yourself near mindlessly back up into his hand as he plays you like a goddamn instrument.
You barely even have time to consider how unfair it is that Ghost is so good at playing with you like this when he doesnât even have a pussy himself, because then he pulls his fingers out of you.
âOh, no, donât stopââ You start to protest breathlessly, your chest still heaving, but the quick glance the lieutenant sends you has you falling silent.
Ghost glances down at his fingers. Theyâre all glossy from fingering you, and he takes a moment to eye up the way they glisten in the dim light of your bunk. You might have felt self-conscious about it, if you couldnât see the unmistakable gleam of hungry interest in Ghostâs dark brown eyes.
He wipes his hand on the crease of your hip, but you donât even get the chance to protest before he reaches up to hook his fingers into his mask. You go still, holding your breath in surprise as he pulls the material up until it bunches up around the bridge of his nose.
And thatâsâ well. Youâve seen his jaw before, and his mouth (Jesus, you had seen it earlier that evening, when he had been sipping on his smooth whiskey of choice), but the sight of his strong jawline and blond stubble and corded scars on his pale skin always manages to knock the breath out of you. And this time, heâs rolled his mask up even further than before, revealing a nose thatâs clearly been broken at least once before.
You probably shouldnât stare so blatantly, especially knowing that Ghost always takes such pains to keep his face covered. Youâre not even sure if the other guys on the team have seen his uncovered face, except for Price, and you know that theyâve developed a habit of averting their eyes when he pulls his mask up for whatever reason. Itâs a habit that you never quite managed to develop yourself; youâre never able to stop yourself from gaping at him like a moron, drinking in all of the minutest details. Heâs never said a thing about your penchant for staring, so you can only hope that heâs chosen to ignore it.
Youâre so busy staring that it takes you by surprise when he grips your jaw with one massive hand and pulls you into a rough kiss.
The sound you make is small and startled, but itâs swallowed by Ghostâs demanding mouth. His lips are dry and a little chapped, but they feel scorching hot against yours. You reach up to grab at his arms â mostly just to ground yourself â but you find yourself almost immediately distracted by the firm bulge of his biceps beneath your hands.
Listen, youâve kissed people before, plenty times. Youâre in your early twenties, and just because youâre inexperienced sexually it doesnât mean that youâre inexperienced full stop. But this, right now, kissing with Ghost, makes you feel as though youâve been doing nothing but fumbling your way through all of those encounters, like youâve been kissing wrong all this time.
Itâs slow and deep, at first. All-consuming. It lights a fire in your gut, which expands and spreads throughout your body until you find your fingers grasping desperately at the short cotton sleeves of Ghostâs t-shirt where itâs stretched over his thickly muscled arm.
Ghost doesnât just kiss with his mouth, either. Itâs like a full-body experience with him; he puts his hands, his whole damn body into the kiss. He clutches you to him, holding you close even as the force of his kiss bends you backwards into the pillows beneath you. At the same time, itâs all you can do to concentrate and respond to the kiss itself, your attention stretched and strained by the feeling of Ghostâs hands running over you, stroking you sides and squeezing at your breasts and groping at the soft flesh of your hips and ass.Â
 âHah,â You gasp out when Ghostâs lips slide sideways to find the corner of your jaw. His mouth is hot against your skin, bruising, and you feel yourself grow embarrassingly wetter, just from a little kissing.
âYou good?â Ghost grunts into your throat as he nips at the base of your jaw.
âUh huh.â You manage to get out, still clutching at his meaty arms like theyâre a lifeline. âSo good.â
His breath is hot on your throat when he rumbles out a deep chuckle, and then his tongue flicks out against your earlobe. It makes you forget how to breathe for a second, and youâre distracted when Ghostâs hand changes course, easing beneath your legs so he can press his fingers against your clit again.
Then he pauses, and his fingers slide lower, lazily hooking back and inside you. You tremble, horny and humiliated as you realise that your arousal is glistening all over your damn thighs, impossible to miss.
âFuck,â Ghost mutters. âAll this for me, sweetheart?â
âHnng,â You whimper like an idiot as his fingers return to your clit, now slick and slippery. âIâm justââ
He doesnât wait for you to explain. Instead, he pulls his fingers out of you again and kisses you hard. The soft breathy noises you make are muffled into his mouth, and you wrap your legs around his waist automatically. Heâs built like a damn mountain, your thighs stretched wide to accommodate the bulk of him as he settles against the core of you.
He likes that â he presses in close, and you can feel the hard line of his cock pressing up against you through the roughness of his jeans. Youâre so sensitive that the coarseness of the fabric is almost unbearable, but youâre able to ignore it because youâre so distracted by the sensation of his erection because holy fucking shit that canât really be how big he is.
You gasp, the sound high and breathy, and you try to grind against Ghost, but itâs impossible because heâs so fucking heavy and heâs pinning you down on the mattress beneath him. Instead, all you can do is squeeze your legs and pull Ghost in even tighter, increasing the pressure between the two of you.
âIâm gonna ruin you,â Ghost whispers, and it sounds like a promise. He drags his lips up your throat, then talks against the corner of your mouth. âYou wonât be able to touch yourself again without wishing it was me.â
The wave of desire that rocks through you almost pulls you under, and you swear you might have actually gotten so horny that you blacked out for a second, because from one second to the next Ghost has somehow managed to muscle his way back down between your thighs so that heâs eye-level with your cunt.
âWhat are youââ You start to say, but then he loops his forearms under your knees to tug your legs wider, and you realise just how close his face is to your pussy. You swear youâre actually pulsing with arousal, and you wonder a little wildly if he can see that.
âOh, fuck, yes â please,â You blurt out, before Ghost has even gotten his mouth on you. He chuckles, low and amused. His grin looks predatory, but in this moment you really donât mind being the prey â not if it means youâll be devoured by that mouth.
Then Ghostâs mouth is against you, wet and burning hot. You cry out, barely noticing as Ghost throws one of your legs over his shoulders, spreading you open.
Itâs just the right side of overwhelming. Ghostâs mouth feels like itâs going to swallow you whole â his tongue is huge and flat and firm as he licks over your clit, making your thighs quake on either side of his head. Itâs entirely unlike any of the fumbling masturbatory attempts youâve ever made â you always enjoy messing around with your various little sex toys, but youâre swiftly beginning to realise that it could never compare to real human contact. Or at least, contact with Ghost.
His hands move from your waist to your asscheeks, his big palms squeezing the plump flesh there before using his grip to pull your body closer so that he can bury his whole face between your legs. The rougher material of his mask presses harshly into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, but you hardly even notice it.
Your pussy has never been this wet before; it feels like youâve sprung a goddamn leak. You might have felt embarrassed about it if it werenât for the way Ghost groans against you, his wide tongue laving flat and rough against the seam of your cunt as he practically gulps down all the sticky arousal you have to give him.
âOh godâ fuck! SirâŚâ You sigh, spreading your knees farther apart so that Ghost can wedge his head further between your thighs.
Your ears burn as your room is filled with sounds of him tonguing at your cunt, the lewd wet squish of him working you over until youâre keening, your hips twitching clumsily until his hands tighten where heâs gripping the plump flesh of your ass to keep you still. Then all you can do is twitch as he licks over your clit in repetitive lapping motions, working in circles and then dipping down to shove his searingly hot tongue inside you. You can feel his teeth press against your labia even as he sucks at your clit, and the sensation sends hot bolts of pleasure rocketing down your spine.
Though you donât mean to, youâre pretty sure that you make his job harder. You canât stop wriggling, tossing your head back against your pillows and squirming on Ghostâs tongue in a wild overstimulated dance, like a fish caught in a net.
Finally, Ghost seems to have enough of your unco-ordinated flailing attempts to grind against his face. He reaches around your thigh with one arm to reach your clit so he can keep it stimulated as he gulps at the sticky sweetness of your cunt like a man possessed â the action also works to keep your hips pinned down and still. You stop your frantic moving, but your spasms and sounds increase tenfold.
You can hardly believe it, but you feel something coming. A sweet, torturous build up starts in your belly, and you sweat and gasp as he licks and suckles at you relentlessly. Youâve never found yourself in this state so quickly before, with your legs trembling and your breathing heavy and shaky.Â
âOh.. ohâŚâ You breathe, beginning to arch your back.
You know this feeling â this is where that sweet climax builds and builds, only to dissipate at the last agonisingly close moment. But this time, with Ghostâs big head between your thighs as his mouth moves against you, sucking, tasting, eating up everything you have to offer, the breath-taking pleasure doesnât show any sign of slipping out of reach. It feels like for once you might actually reach that peak.
But then, right as youâre certain that youâre about to tip over that long-awaited coveted release, the bastard pulls away.
âNo!â You practically shriek, attempting to sit up. âNo, I was so closeâ!â
âLie back.â Ghost orders, his voice like the crack of a whip.Â
You drop back obediently before you can even register that youâre moving, so conditioned to react instantly to that tone of voice coming from Ghostâs deep rumbling baritone. Your eyes are wide and betrayed as you stare at him, admittedly a little baleful.
God, but itâs hard to stay annoyed when heâs staring up at you from between your legs like that. His eyes are dark and hungry beneath the mask, and since itâs all pushed up and rumpled around his nose you get a toe-curlingly good look at his lower face. His chin is wet and smeared with your slick, and his lips are plump and pink and swollen from all the kissing and suckling heâs done to you. In a moment of near-delirium, you think that you understand now why he covers his face â his mouth is pretty in a way that shocks you, in a way that needs to be hidden for decencyâs sake.
âYouâre gettinâ greedy,â He grunts, turning his head and sinking his teeth into the crease of your thigh just to make you yelp. âWait for it, love. Itâll be worth the wait.â
You donât think you have much of a choice, so all you can do is lay back and hold on for the ride. He presses his mouth to you again, and you whimper softly as he tongues at your clit.Â
âNo oneâs ever eaten you out like this?â He asks, the words muffled into the damp curve of your thigh. Itâs stupid, because you know he knows the answer to that is a resounding no, but it seems like he just wants to hear you say it out loud.
âNo.â You say, your breaths sawing their way out of your chest.
��Hnn.â He makes some kind of grunting sound against you, his tongue flicking out to taste you again. âThatâs why youâve been so tense, huh? So fuckinâ desperate for someone to touch you?â
âThatâs notâ âm not tense,â You manage to get out, your breasts heaving as your thighs tense up where theyâre thrown over his shoulders. âMaybe.. Maybe youâre too relaxed.â
Ghost huffs a hot little laugh at your hip because you both know that couldnât be further from the truth. You doubt anyone has ever accused Ghost of being too relaxed before, but you donât have time to feel stupid for it â not when Ghost is devoting the full force of his attention on you, deep breaths huffing against the wet skin of your pussy and making you shudder.
âThatâs it,â He croons, his voice uncharacteristically soft and lilting. The rumble of it ripples through your limbs like lapping waves, his battle-roughened palm stroking and smoothing down your ass and thigh as he hauls you closer. âRelax, sweetheart. Fuck, such a pretty pussy. Fuckinâ criminal of you to keep this hidden away all to yourself.â And then, quieter, âFuckinâ Christ, youâre wet.â
Youâre not even sure that heâs talking to you. It seems more as though heâs talking to himself, and it just happens to be you heâs talking about. Your cheeks burn as the feeling of vulnerability sets in, but you keep your legs spread wide as he kisses your clit with his swollen pink lips. You want so badly to be good, for him to be pleased with you, that you push past your embarrassment as best you can.
Thereâs a budding anxiety in your belly that Ghost is wasting his time here. As much as you crave his touch and the build up, you worry that heâs going to get frustrated with you and your inability to actually orgasm.
But Ghost doesnât seem to be in a rush. He seems perfectly fucking happy between your legs, and even with his mask all clumsily rucked up around his nose he presses his face into your pussy with his eyes heavy-lidded and hazy. Even when you shift a little in an effort to get him to go a little harder or faster, he just pins you still and continues at his own leisurely pace.
When he reintroduces his fingers, pressing inside and stretching you out with a light sting, you hiss and try to lift your hips again. His rough calloused knuckles brush against the inside of your soft inner thighs, making them quiver as he goes three fingers deep.
âShhh, atta girl.â He mumbles into you, his words coming out wetly muffled since he doesnât even both pulling his face back. âFuckinââ shit, so good.â
The praise shoots liquid and molten through you, and you have to bite back a pathetic keen as you pulse around his fingers. Youâre sure he must feel it, because he lets out an answering rumble and laps against your clit, then closes his lips and sucks.
âOh godââ
âShhh.â Ghost scoots forward so your knee can hoist over his shoulder. Then he angles his chin to kiss the skin on the inside curve of your knee as he pumps into you with slow, slippery fingers and ungodly squelching noises that only sparks you hotter. You canât even tell if itâs sweat or tears dotting your face anymore.
Though Ghostâs eyes are heavy-lidded and a little fogged over, he hasnât looked away from you once. The focused intensity of his gaze spears you through, because youâve never been looked at like that. No one has ever seen you like this, no one has ever put effort into you like this, no one has ever been so determined to please you before. You donât know how youâre ever going to recover from this; you have a terrifyingly distinct impression that heâs going to live up to his promise to ruin you for anyone else.
It feels as though your blood is boiling beneath your skin, and you nearly sob when Ghost pulls back. Youâve never been so close, and you want to scream when he takes his gorgeous fucking mouth away from your clit.
âFuck.â You wet your lips, realising you were panting like a dog and your mouth is bone dry. âFuck, Ghost, justââ
âQuiet, lovie.â His reply is hoarse and firm, his throat working hard to swallow as he peered down between you, his clever thumb delving slick circles over the taut bump of your clit, his other three fingers fucking with easy rhythm and purpose. Itâs maddening, itâs infuriating, it makes you feel as though youâre about to break apart.
His fingers are pulled out, and then you feel firm pressure pressing into you yet again. Your head lolls as you attempt to sit up, your eyelids fluttering as you realise that heâs pressing your stupid dildo into you again.
âOh, you bastardââ You start to complain, but Ghost doesnât give you the opportunity to speak properly.
The dildo slides into you so easily, your sticky slick mixing with his spit making the slide almost effortless. You sigh, a build-up of pressure making your whole body feel as though youâve been stretched out and pulled tight.Â
Now that youâve been pushed to the edge, you linger by it. Ghost keeps you on that edge for what feels like hours, until your breaths are burning in your chest and the ligaments in your calves are screaming from all the straining youâve been doing. Every roll of Ghostâs thumb over your clit sends sparks racing through your nerves, and your breathing is harsh and uneven as Ghost starts fucking you with the stupid vibrating dildo. The rhythm he sets is firm and unrelenting, pushing the silicone toy in and out and visibly relishing the wet squish of your cunt as it takes it deep.
Ghost huffs against the wet skin of your inner thigh, making you shudder. It seems like heâs enjoying this as much as you are, judging by the subtle roll of his hips against your mattress as he absorbs himself in fucking you with the dildo.Â
He experiments with the angle, adjusting the dildo until you cry out, jerking against the bedding, and whining âThere!â. You neednât bother telling him, though; Ghost has a sharp eye, and heâs so goddamn attentive. Heâs already repeating the stroke, pushing the dildo in and bumping it against the same sensitive spot he had hit before.
It feels good, but itâs not enough. Now that youâve felt the firm hot pressure of his fingers spreading you wide and the wet hunger of his mouth devouring you, you donât think anything else will do.
He shifts, you catch the rolls of his hips against your mattress again, and you feel as though youâve caught fire. You think of the glimpse you had caught of his hard cock, pressing against his jeans and making the fabric stretch taut, and you find yourself speaking without thinking.
Ghost pushes the dildo in once more, and you reach down to grab at his wrist as you ask breathlessly, âCan I try yours?â
He pauses; goes so still that itâs honestly uncanny, his eyes practically boring holes into you as he stares at your face. You grow flustered, your own eyes widening in response to your own words. Just because heâs deigning to touch you with his fingers and his mouth, doesnât mean heâs actually planning to fuck you. Jesus, heâs your fucking superior officer. What were you thinking?
âIâm sorry,â You squeak. âThat wasnât appropriate. Fuck, forget I said thatââ
Even beneath the mask, you can see the bob of Ghostâs Adam's apple as he swallows thickly.
âYou sure?â He interrupts your rambling before you can get started. âI donât... âm not good with virgins.â
Thereâs⌠thereâs so much you could say in response to that. Namely, he certainly doesnât seem like heâs bad with virgins, as evidenced by the throb of arousal still pulsing through your soaked cunt. Heâs just had you sobbing at the mercy of his fingers and mouth, and all he has to say when you ask for more is that heâs not good with virgins?
Instead, what you say is a rather lame, âIâm not technically a virgin.â
Which is true. Sort of. Based on a technicality â you had bullied your damn vibrator through your stupid hymen years ago, and youâve always thought the idea of virginity was a stupid one, anyway.Â
âPlastic cocks donât count, darlinâ.â
Blood rushes to your face so fast you feel light-headed as humiliation burns through you. Jesus, okay. Thatâs just mortifying.Â
âOh, you think your cock is special, then?â You scoff, attempting nonchalance.
Ghost shifts, letting your legs drop from his shoulders, and kneels up on the mattress so that heâs looming over you. Fuck, every time you get a visceral reminder of how big he is, you feel a little faint. Itâs like having a veritable wall of muscle caging you into your bed. Your thighs are spread wide to accommodate the size of him, and you find yourself absolutely captivated by the sight of him with his muscles straining against that stupid tight t-shirt, still panting lightly from his greedy gorging on your cunt.
He reaches out and drags a hand slowly from your cunt up over your belly, between your breasts, up over your sternum, to rest over your collarbones. Itâs gentle â he doesnât put an iota of pressure against your throat â but all you can fucking see is the swell of his bicep and the dark ink of his tattoo and the prominent veins running down the chiselled muscle of his forearm.
Good fucking lord.
âYouâll find out.â He says.
And oh. Okay then. Yeah, you sure fucking will.
He reaches down and unbuttons his jeans, and you canât help but strain to try and watch. He pushes them down carelessly around his thighs, but doesnât make any move to strip them off any further. Youâre suddenly aware of the fact that youâre laying on the bed completely nude and exposed, while Ghost has only pushed his jeans down far enough to pull his cock out, but you donât have any time to feel self-conscious about it.
His cock curves up against his belly, red and twitching. Heâs fucking rock hard, and bigger than you had been expecting, bigger than any of your stupid little toys. Your mouth goes dry, and your eyes widen comically. Fuck. No wonder heâs confident. Heâs not lacking in any way.
âDâyouâve a johnny?â He asks, one big paw of a hand taking his cock and stroking lazily at it until a bead of pearly precum oozes from the angry red head.
Youâre distracted for a moment, staring at the way he fists his cock, before you blink back to yourself. âWhat?â
âA condom.â He enunciates slowly, as though speaking to someone he thinks is a bit thick.
âI know what you meant,â You snap, embarrassed. âButâ no. Why would I? Iâve neverâŚâ
You can see the way his eyes crease and realise that heâs frowning beneath the mask, and youâre hit with a sudden bolt of panic â is he going to change his mind now? You can see the hesitation in the lines of his shoulders, but you think if he changes his mind about fucking you, you might just die.
âIt doesnât matter,â You blurt, âYou donât need one. Iâm on the pill. Iâm clean.â
Ghost cocks his head, but remains still. Itâs almost unnerving, and you feel your toes curl into the bedsheets as you wait for an answer. He looks fucking predatory, hulking over you like a fucking behemoth as he watches you assessingly. You try your best to look confident, but you have a feeling that you just look desperately hungry.
He reaches up and hooks his fingers into the fabric of his mask and pulls it back down to cover his still slick-shiny mouth and jaw, and youâre gripped with sudden overwhelming panic and dismay that heâs changed his mind, that heâs about to leave you here wet and empty and wanting. In that moment, you throw your dignity into the wind.
âPlease,â You beg pathetically, wriggling a little bit against your sweat-damp bedding in an effort to grind yourself against him. âPlease, please, itâs fine, I swear, you donât need oneââ
âFuckinâ hell.â Ghost grinds out, his voice rough and a little hoarse. âHow can a virgin be such a fuckinâ slut?â
Some part of you wonders if you should be offended by that, but instead a frisson of heat runs down your spine. You know youâre not a slut â youâve never searched for any sexual attention, and youâve never even experienced someone elseâs touch â but goddamn you want to be a slut for your lieutenant right now.
Despite his harsh words, when Ghost hooks your legs over his hips and aligns himself with you, heâs gentle. Heâs acting like youâre something fragile; heâs so big that your legs are spread wide around his waist, his shoulders so broad that heâs blocking out the dim light from your lamp, and yet his touch is light against you as though heâs afraid to break you.
Heâs still gripping his cock hard, and he slides the tip of it against your slick heat. You have a brief moment of alarm; even through the haze of arousal, you can recognise that this is going to be a tight fit. You breathe deeply, then begin to wiggle your hips in an effort to take him inside you.
He hisses, then one of his big hands grabs at your hip. âFuck, stay still.â
âPut it in.â You beg, your voice coming out thick and stupid-sounding. âFuck, please, câmon, câmonââ
âKid,â Ghost bites out through clenched teeth, his voice low and gritty. âNeed you to shut the fuck up for me.â
You manage to bite down on your lip, but you canât stop yourself from pouting mopily at him with wide, wet eyes. You donât understand why heâs making you wait â canât he see how mean heâs being? Youâre so fucking wet, so empty as you clench down on nothing, and your clit is so desperate for any kind of stimulation that itâs throbbing needily. The head of his cock catches at your opening, dipping in for a second before resuming its maddening slide up and down.
Ghost is still watching you closely, his brown eyes flickering from where the head of his cock drags through your sodden folds up to your pleading pouting expression. You can only imagine what kind of a sight you make, because his chest growls with a choked sort of groan.
âI know,â He murmurs, almost mockingly soft with you. âI know, you want it. Gotta give it to you slowly.â
You want to tell him that he doesnât have to give it to you slowly, that he can go as fast and hard as he wants to, but some sense of self-preservation shuts you up. Instead, you nod clumsily as he rubs his cock over the slick folds of your cunt, lubing himself up with your own arousal. The feeling of his cock dragging over you, iron hard and velvety soft, so close to where you want it, is enough to have your head spinning dizzily.
You want to beg again, but youâre still trying to follow his order to be silent. You shift restlessly, biting back a whimper when he taps his cock thoughtfully against your clit.
Finally, he decides to put you out of your misery.Â
The thick crown of his cock pushes against the tight ring of muscle at the entrance of your cunt, and the gasp you let out is positively punched out of you. He goes slow, just like he promised, but you can still hardly believe it. He goes in and in and in, and yet heâs somehow not even halfway inside.Â
âFuck,â You wheeze, punctuated by a strange little yowl. âOh god, waitââ
You feel stuffed just from the first few inches, drunk already on the quiet little grunts heâs making. The stretch and the sting and the pressure inside you is glorious, so tight that you can barely even flex around him and you canât even decide if itâs good or if itâs too much. Your eyes are hot and wet as overwhelmed tears begin to overflow, and you find yourself arching in a weak attempt to flex away from him and the devastating stretch.
God, heâs massive. You knew he would be, of course, but his size seems so much more significant when youâre being impaled on the end of his cock. Fuck, you can feel your vision go blurry as your eyes fill with overwhelmed tears. Youâre mortified when a sob is ripped from your chest, harsh and thick.
âShh, shh.â Ghost coos, his deep voice syrupy thick as he leans over you, the enormous bulk of him caging you into the mattress until your whole world consists only of him. âJust a little bit more.â
âFuck,â You choke out, trying to arch away again but failing because heâs so big that thereâs nowhere to go. âItâs not gonna fit!â
âShh, lovie,â He rumbles, ducking his face down so that the rough cotton of his mask is pressed against the sweaty skin of your neck. âRelaxân let me in.â
âIâ âm tryingââ You whine, clutching at his biceps. âJesusââ
You blink your eyes open, vision blurry from the tears clumping your lashes together, only to be met with the sight of Ghostâs deep brown eyes staring at you from beneath the black mask. Heâs looming above you, his gaze made all the more intense by the fact that itâs the only part of his face you can really see.
âAll that messinâ around with those plastic cocks, but youâre still this tight for me,â He says, his voice so deep that you feel it reverberate into your bones. âDeep breath.â
The breath you inhale at his instruction is rough and ragged, and he snorts a low breathless laugh in response.
When he finally drives his cock all the way in with one smooth stroke, all the breath is driven from your lungs. It feels as though his cock has been pressed all the way up into your chest, and the noise you make when you squirm on it is utterly pathetic.Â
Ghostâs hands are like steel clamps when they close around the plump flesh of your thighs, holding them up and pressing them back until theyâre pressed against your belly. He looms over you, still almost entirely clothed as sweat beads over his thickly muscled neck. Itâs like getting pinned down by a mountain, and you whimper as youâre speared open and prone by the weight of Ghost pressing down upon you.
He hasnât even started to move yet, but you still feel overfull and raw.
âToo big,â You mumble, struggling to catch your breath. You choke on a sob and feel your eyes burn with unshed tears as your back arches. âGhostâ!â
âShh.â He grunts. âCall me Simon when I fuck you.â
That⌠that does something to you. Molten heat rockets up your spine and pools in your belly, and you swear your pussy floods. Itâs stupid, how being granted permission to call your lieutenant by his first name is somehow so much hotter than anything else heâs done so far.
âSimon,â You try it out. It comes out a little shaky, your voice little more than a weak whisper, but you swear you can see his eyes sharpen.Â
Apparently having come to the decision that youâve adjusted enough, Ghost pulls his hips back only to drive back in.Â
âOh!â You yelp, hips jumping, but thereâs nowhere to go.Â
All you can do is lie there as he slides out, out, out, slow and careful and long, and then his hips snap forward and he impales you, pressing all the way into him. He does it again, and again, and you try to bite down on your tongue, try to not sound so pathetically wrecked, but you canât. Itâs like Ghost is puncturing your lungs and every time he fucks into you, you let out the most pathetic little mewling ah ah ah sounds.
Youâre not quite prepared for how different this feels; itâs nothing like your stupid plastic dildo. Ghostâs cock is bigger, but itâs also hotter and with more give than you expected, and youâve never been able to fuck yourself like this. Your plastic toys could never compare to the sensation of being pinned by your giant of a lieutenant as he ruts into you.
Ghost reaches up and roughly pushes his mask up so his mouth is exposed again before he leans in deeper, almost folding you cleanly in half, stretching in to claim your mouth in a kiss thatâs not quite a kiss, but rather a fierce mash of lips and tongue as his rhythm picks up, riding you down into the mattress until you realised the screaming noise isnât coming from either one of you, but the cheap standard issue bed frame.
All you can do is gasp with each deep, raw fuck. There are tears tracking lazily down your cheeks, having overflowed from your burning eyes, and you honestly think your lungs might collapse. Youâre bent like a fucking pretzel, in a way thatâs making the muscles in your thighs scream, as Ghost pounds into you.Â
Heâs fucking relentless, but also shockingly aware of you beneath him. He doesnât put too much pressure on you when he holds you, he never goes hard enough to hurt, and he knows just the right amount of weight to pin you down without being too much.
Your pussy is sloppy around him, wet squishing noises getting louder and louder as he finds more rhythm against your tight walls. Your whole world of awareness has been narrowed down to Ghost and Ghost only; his fingers digging into your thighs, your name in his mouth, his sweltering body pressing against yours.Â
Heâs holding back, you can tell by the way his voice is caught in his throat. Heâs keeping all his dangerous muscles at bay as he pulls out and presses in again. Rough, fast, but not enough to break you, just enough to make you scream until you bury your face to the side and try to cover your mouth with your arm.
âYeah, you needed this,â Ghost grunts, his uncovered mouth nipping at the hinge of your jaw. âThisâs why you were so fuckinâ distracted earlier, hm? You thinkinâ about how much you needed to cream around a real cock?â
âUh huh, yeah,â You slur out, not even sure what youâre agreeing with. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth, every nerve in your body raw and sparking. You must sound so pathetic, but Ghost seems to like it.
âAinât gonna be distracted anymore, are ya?â He rumbles, laving his tongue over your jaw in a way that feels filthy. âJust needed your little pussy filled, thatâs all.â
You cry out for him because you canât help it, delight bubbling in your throat every time he plunges into you. He keeps his pace for a bit, all rushed and blazing, transfixed on watching you suck him in, leaving slick trails along his shaft. But gradually he gets bolder, more desperate, big hands squeezing from your thighs to your hips.
You get lost in the feeling of him in your belly, searing and harsh, fat tip rolling against the spongy spot inside of you until you feel like you might snap. You feel him in your ears, your head pounding with every snap of his hips. You swear you even feel him in your toes, lightning zaps of pleasure down your nerves.
Then he leans back, lifting his weight off of you so you can breathe properly. He leaves his hand on your collarbones like a placeholder, his palm spread over the base of your throat like a reminder, a way to keep your attention on him.Â
âFuck,â He grits out, âThatâs it, doll.â
Youâre vaguely aware of the fact that Ghostâs gaze has shifted, no longer focused on your face but now instead fixed firmly between your legs as he watches the thick shaft of his cock sink into you. He obviously likes how you feel inside; you can hear him cursing and grunting quietly as his free hand grips your hip for leverage.Â
With his mask rumpled up around his nose, youâre gifted with an incredible view of the way his teeth are sunk into his lower lip. Each time he sinks his cock into you again, he makes a raspy little groan, eyes fluttering briefly shut. Itâs so painfully endearing that your heart quivers in your chest.
Your legs burn from being spread around his thick waist â any attempt for you to lock them around his back is useless, your legs slipping everytime his ass flexes with his thrusts. Every hasty drive of his hips has the ridge of his cock sliding against the spongy spread of your walls, making you feel more stuffed every time he ruts into you. With every sudden movement you feel the entirety of his fat cock; the veins are throbbing, skin heated and silken within you. Part of you marvels how youâre even able to fit him inside you.
âNever seen you look like this,â he grunts. âAll fucked-out and perfect.â
Ghost leans in again, grips your legs so he can rearrange them over his shoulders, and you think you might die. The angle is different and somehow, impossibly, Ghost is fucking into you even deeper. You think you might actually be crying. Thereâs no question as to whether youâre drooling.
Your hands move to his arms, nails sinking into the hard muscles of his triceps as you cling on for dear life. He doesnât even seem to notice the sting of your nails scratching him; or perhaps it only urges him on, because his movements take on an edge of desperation.
âGorgeous girl,â He grits out, jaw clenched. âSqueezinâ so tight. Fuck. Gonna make you cream.â
 You had forgotten about his promise to make you come, too lost in the hazy pleasure of his cock. But now it seems as though heâs been seized by the compulsion to fuck you to the edge; he reaches a hand down so that his thumb can join the fray, and it startles you into moaning breathlessly aloud.Â
His thumb is merciless against your clit. Youâre vulnerable to his touch, clit spread and on display from the stretch of his thick cock inside of you, and he takes full advantage. His fingers are thick and blistering hot as he rubs at you, and you choke as your toes curl.
âSimonââ You manage to eke out before you lose the weak thread of your thoughts, scattering into nothing as he stimulates the stiff bead of your clit.Â
He grunts to show that heâs heard you, but he doesnât seem any more capable of words than you are as he rocks into the cradle of your hips. Youâre practically blinded by your wet eyes, blinking frantically to try and clear your vision as you reach out clumsily to throw your arms around Ghostâs blisteringly hot neck.
It feels as though your skin is stretched too tight over your body, hot and prickly and too much. Youâre trembling, your breaths coming in shaky gasps as agonising pressure builds in your lower belly.Â
âFuck, love.â Ghost says, his voice little more than a snarl. âYou gonna come?â
No, You think hazily. No, you never come. But even as you think it, part of you recognises that itâs never felt like this before. Your stomach tightens, toes curling, your lungs burning, your eyes rolling. You hardly even know whatâs happening.
You recognise that something is building, but it almost seems secondary to the way that Ghost is rutting into you like a man possessed, hitting that spongey spot in the back of your pussy that youâve never managed to reach yourself and making your legs spasm every time even as his thick thumb rubs frantic circles around the bump of your clit.
âFuck, fuckââ You wheeze, bucking your hips against him.
It doesnât grow and dissipate in the way youâre used to. Rather, it creeps up on you almost without you noticing, until youâre whimpering and clinging to Ghost like heâs a lifeline. Your bottom lip trembles as you sob weakly, practically on the brink of diving into an oncoming tidal wave of desire. Then that coil in your stomach snaps like a rubber band, sudden and sharp as a slap to the face.Â
Your back arches, your vision whites out, and you cum so hard that the world stops, your ears ring, your body goes limp. Your cunts sucks tight around him, pulsing, feeling every inch of him. It feels so sweet, that white-hot buzzing pleasure rushing over you and wiping your brain completely clean.Â
Youâre a little delirious from being stuffed with such a fat cock; every thrust just prolongs your pleasure, like his penetration keeps you from squeezing your very first orgasm out right away. Itâs mindless ecstasy, your nails burrowing into the skin of his biceps as you desperately clutch at him for some kind of leverage. Ghost doesnât falter, his hips continuing to work into you, wringing your orgasm out until you feel as though your brain is melting.
You sob â an actual, genuine, wet-sounding sob as your chest heaves for air and your eyes burn with overwhelmed, rapturous tears. Your head is spinning even as your climax subsides, leaving you limp-limbed and weak as Ghost continues rocking into you.
âLook so lovely when you come, sweetheart,â Ghost grunts into your ear, his bulky chest weighing you down as you clutch feebly at his shoulders. âGod, thatâs a sight. All for me, yeah?â
His praise only makes it worse, makes your eyes sting until thereâs tears down your cheeks and stars behind your eyelids. He sounds so smug, but you canât deny that he has reason to be. Heâs the first man to ever touch you, first man to ever fuck you, the first person to ever tip you over the edge and wring an orgasm out of you. Fuck, you think your brain might have been reduced to mush permanently; you wonder wildly if youâll ever be the same after this.
Despite the sting of Ghostâs punishing thrusts into your already oversensitive cunt, your body sings for him. The rhythm of his hips is getting gradually sloppier, as though he doesnât care as much for precision now that heâs succeeded in making you come. Soft, guttural little grunts fall from his mouth, and his arms wrap around your waist to reposition you so that he can fuck quick and shallow. Itâs almost tender, as though heâs aware of your growing sensitivity as you mewl under him.
Thereâs a profound, instinctual pleasure in seeing Ghost lose himself in your embrace. His dark eyes are heavy-lidded and his mask is still all rucked up, revealing the way his mouth is lolled softly open as he pants. You find yourself wishing feverishly that he had taken off his clothes too, because you think you would give anything to watch the roiling muscles of his chest and shoulders as he ruts into you.
Then just when you think youâre beginning to recover from the shattering, mind-numbing oversensitivity, Ghost comes inside of you.
He stops rutting to ride out his orgasm, his cock throbbing, pulsing, spurting inside you until you feel fuller than youâve ever felt. And he comes a lot.Â
Youâre stuffed so tightly with his cock that his cum has nowhere to go, and ends up leaking thickly from where your cunt grips around him, messy and hot and spilling over your thighs and his. The sound he makes is breathless, all open-mouth and head lolled back as he groans, blissed out as he finds release in your cunt.Â
The minutes afterwards are a blur.Â
You close your eyes for what feels like only a second, but the next time you blink your eyes open you find yourself feeling miserably, uncomfortably empty and sticky as all that oozy cum leaks out of you. You somehow missed Ghost pulling out of you, and your thoughts are muzzy and embarrassingly slow.
For a moment, you think youâre alone. Youâre becoming more aware of yourself, and you realise that youâre shivering weakly alone in your sweat-damp sheets. Where did Ghost go? Part of you, still a little hazy, wonders if he had left you alone as soon as he had come, and you feel your lower lip tremble at the thought.Â
God, you feel pathetic. You shift feebly on the sheets, and suck in a sharp breath when you feel the ache inside you, proof that youâre going to feel the shadow of Ghostâs cock for days. You feel drunk off the afterglow, yet youâre swiftly becoming more and more aware of yourself and all the aches and pains that are coming to the fore now.
It feels like youâre too big for your body, and youâre clumsy when you try to sit up. Pushing yourself up makes a whole new set of aches light up, and you let out a quiet keening grumble.
Youâre so caught up with trying to ground yourself that you jolt in surprise when big, paw-like hands land on you, pushing you back down onto the bed. âShh, hey, lay down.â Ghost says, the rough edges of his accent softened. To your bewilderment, he has a damp cloth in his hand; he went to the bathroom, you realise hazily.
Maybe itâs just because you feel raw after your experience with him, pulsing like an open nerve, but you sniffle and blink and then suddenly there are tears dripping down your face.
âThought you left.â You mumble, trying not to sound like a needy little idiot.
Ghost glances up at you, unblinkingly. His mask is fixed firmly back in place, and he looks annoyingly put-together; itâs an embarrassingly stark contrast to the way youâre still nude and shivery and teary-eyed.
âNo.â He says simply.
The damp cloth is warm when it makes contact with your skin, and you relax as he drags it along your sweaty back and over your legs. Heâs a little rough about it, but you donât think itâs on purpose. Gentleness doesnât come naturally to Simon Riley, and yet you can feel that heâs trying and that makes a warm glow settle in your stomach, replacing the cold anxiety that had settled in when you thought that he had left you alone.
When the cloth reaches the tender skin of your pussy, you hiss and try to pull away. It all feels too sensitive, and you feel your face crumple up as he wipes away the mess of slick and cum between your thighs. He gentles his touch as much as he can, but you still mewl at the electric zaps of oversensitivity that jolt up your spine.
When Ghost pauses and pulls the cloth away from you, you blink your eyes awake. Your vision is still all wet and blurry from tears, but you can still see the shape of Ghost as he stares down at you. You can imagine you look nothing short of ruined right now, even after having been cleaned up, and Ghostâs stare is burning.
You wonder if heâs about to leave now â you can recognise this whole thing had gotten out of hand, and you just about manage to stifle the panic at the creeping realisation that youâve just fucked your superior officer. Ghost must have realised at this point that the two of you had just ripped through all those fraternisation rules, though itâs always been difficult to tell what heâs thinking. But you trust him â you have to, in your line of work. You have to trust that heâll handle things.
Ghost tosses aside the cloth, and his big overbearing body climbs back into bed beside you. Itâs a standard-issue bunk, and yet it feels comically tiny when Ghost has been added to the mix. Heâs surprisingly agile, even despite his big size, and you barely have time to realise that heâs joining you in bed before heâs wrapped a thick arm around your middle, hauling you closer.
Youâd love to act chill and cool about the fact that heâs now essentially cuddling you, but you miss the mark by a long mile. You take a breath, and allow yourself to relax into his big burly chest. Heâs still fully clothed, and the rough texture of his jeans against your tender bare skin makes you shiver lightly from oversensitivity.
Your hips are sore from being stretched so wide, your joints weak and watery, and youâre perfectly content to close your eyes and forcibly ignore all your concerns about fraternisation or how youâre going to face Ghost in training. Itâs a problem for another time.
âYou still alive?â Ghost grunts, and his palm coasts down over your back to settle at your ass, his fingers squeezing absent-mindedly into the soft flesh there.
He sounds amused, which makes you grumble in irritation. He takes up so much space, his big body filling up all the free space on the bed and making you feel so fucking small as he holds you so that your back is pressed against his stomach.
âI dunno,â You mumble, words a little garbled. âThink⌠think you might have fucked me stupid, Lt.â
Lying like this, with his front pressed against your back, you can feel his laugh rumble into you. Heâs touchy too in a way that surprises you; his hands are constantly moving, swiping over your sides and groping at any part of you thatâs squishy-soft.
âThink I might have,â He agrees, and you can hear the smirk in his voice even if you canât see it. âBut I think you needed it, sweetheart. You were practically cryinâ out for it all day.â
You feel your face heat at the insinuation that he had noticed the arousal you thought you had hidden so well. But you still feel so fuzzy inside, and you canât manage to drum up any genuine reaction.
Ghostâs roaming hand slips down between your legs, and you hold your breath as he reaches your swollen, tender pussy. His fingers are so big, but heâs aware of his strength and keeps his touch light, cupping rather than groping, his calloused palm catching on your puffy clit.
âTold you a real cock would be better,â He rumbles, and you feel the soft material of his mask rubbing against the back of your sweaty neck. âYouâve got a fussy little cunt â âs only gonna be satisfied by the real thing.â
Youâd love to jab back at him, but the feeling of him rough palm against your oversensitive clit has your thoughts fizzing out into nothingness. All you can do is let out a quiet little whimper, and rock your hips into his touch. To your utter bewilderment, you feel your arousal, which you had previously considered entirely sated, pulse back to life.
As if Ghost can feel your cunt throb beneath his hand, he snickers. âYeah. Fussy and greedy.â
He leans down, and you feel his lips brush against the back of your neck through the cotton of his balaclava. You quiver, and part your legs without conscious thought to give his thick fingers more room to work. Despite your exhaustion, and your soreness, and your sensitivity, you find yourself wanting. You wonder, with an edge of hysteria, if your body has somehow managed to rewire itself to only accept pleasure from your commanding officerâs hand.
âGhostâ Simonââ You breathe, your hips jumping as you grind into his palm.
âYeah,â He says again, as though he knows exactly what you need and want. âOne little orgasm wasnât enough, was it?â
âNo.â You choke out, throwing your head back so that itâs resting against Ghostâs broad chest. âNo, ât wasnât.â
You can hardly believe that your body is winding up for more, but Ghostâs touch is searing hot against your tender skin, and you can already taste the pleasure heâs going to bring you. This time, without the edge of urgency, you think you might even enjoy it more.
âGimme five minutes,â He drawls, his voice low and muffled in your ear. âAnd Iâll give you your second.â
#ahem... hello đĽşđđ#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#cod smut#cod mw2 smut#simon ghost riley x reader#cod fic#simon riley smut
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Emotionally reserved characters
Instead of openly sharing their emotions with others, they keep their feelings locked inside, letting their inner thoughts do all the talking. You get a glimpse into their mind, where a storm of conflicts, doubts, and desires brews quietly beneath a calm exterior. This internal monologue allows readers to understand whatâs going on inside their head, even if they donât show it on the outside. Itâs like seeing the world through their eyes, where every little thing stirs up a wave of emotions that they never express out loud.
For these characters, actions speak louder than words, but even their actions are restrained. They communicate their emotions through the smallest of gesturesâa slight tightening of the jaw when theyâre angry or hurt, a brief flicker in their eyes when theyâre surprised, or a controlled change in posture when something makes them uncomfortable. These tiny, almost imperceptible movements can say so much more than an outburst ever could, hinting at feelings they would never openly share. Itâs about what they donât do as much as what they do.
When they do speak, every word is carefully chosen. Emotionally reserved characters donât ramble or spill their feelings in a flood of words. Instead, they speak in a measured and controlled manner, always keeping their emotions in check. Their sentences are concise, sometimes even vague or indirect, leaving others guessing about what theyâre really thinking. Itâs not that they donât feel deeply, they just prefer to keep those feelings close to the chest, hidden behind a mask of calm and composure.
For these characters, what they do is often more telling than what they say. They might not say âI care about youâ outright, but youâll see it in the way they go out of their way to help, the quiet ways they show up for the people they love. Their actions reveal their emotionsâwhether itâs a protective gesture, a silent sacrifice, or a kind deed done without expectation of recognition. Itâs these unspoken acts of kindness that show their true feelings, even if they never say them out loud.
They often have strong personal boundaries. They keep their private lives just that - private. They donât open up easily and are cautious about who they let into their inner circle. They might deflect conversations away from themselves or avoid sharing personal details altogether. Itâs not that they donât want to connect, itâs just that they find it hard to lower their walls and let others in, fearing vulnerability or judgment.
When they do show vulnerability, itâs in small, controlled doses. These characters may have moments where they let their guard down, but only in private or with someone they deeply trust.
Sometimes, emotionally reserved characters express their feelings through objects that hold special significance to them. Maybe itâs a worn-out book they keep close, a piece of jewelry they never take off, or an old letter tucked away in a drawer. These symbolic objects are like anchors, holding memories and emotions they canât express in words. They serve as tangible reminders of their inner world, representing feelings they keep buried deep inside.
When these characters communicate, thereâs often more to their words than meets the eye. They speak in subtext, using irony, implication, or ambiguity to convey what they really mean without saying it outright. Their conversations are filled with hidden meanings and unspoken truths, creating layers of depth in their interactions with others. You have to read between the lines to understand what theyâre really saying because what they leave unsaid is just as important as what they do say.
Despite their calm demeanor, there are certain things that can break through their emotional reserve. Specific triggers - like a painful memory, a deep-seated fear, or a personal loss - can elicit a strong emotional response, revealing the depth of their feelings. These moments of intensity are rare but powerful, showing that even the most reserved characters have a breaking point.
Over time, emotionally reserved characters can evolve, gradually revealing more about themselves as they grow and change. Maybe they start to trust more, opening up to those around them, or perhaps they experience something that challenges their emotional barriers, forcing them to confront their feelings head-on.
#writing#writer on tumblr#writerscommunity#writing tips#character development#writing advice#oc character#writing help#writer tumblr#writblr#creative writers#wrtblr
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â SAVE A COW, MILK THE ...!? â - Choso Kamo
â (18+) .. SEEMS LIKE THE LOCAL MILKMAN HAS A DIFFERENT TYPE OF MILK IN STORE FOR YOU.
áŻâ
warnings. (18+), milkman! choso, msub to mdom, overstimulation, titty jobs, p in v, resolved sexual tension, oral (m rec), squirting, slow burn, praising, slight? creampie, suggestive language and actions
áŻâ
notes. I made choso soo whiny in this I fear.. please beware, there is a LOT of irony in this LMAOO.. plus I need him real bad I think u can tell, anyways hope u all enjoy, this was my 1.4k gift <3
4,862 words (17m read)
please check out and support the actual artists piece on twt!/ig, - @/iamdebruh! + art (center of heading) is by @/yunonoai on twt.
Eggs, sugar, heavy cream, flour, vanilla extract and.. and..?
You analyse the countertop carefully, eyes flickering over each ingredient you had pulled out of the grocery bags less than a minute ago.
"Let's try this again.." Sticking a finger out, you point at the produce one by one, performing a routine of a silly head-count. "Okay- eggs, sugar, heavy cream, flour, vanilla extract andâŚ" Your index finger lands on an empty space that was yet to be filled, and finally, it registers into that brain of yours.
"Oh, how could I possibly forget the milk?!" You cry out in pure distraught, scanning the other countertops in hopes of accidentally misplacing it somewhere instead. Pretty useless though, as no sudden miracle was to be found anywhere.
Groaning, you bury your face into the palm of your handsâ mentally cursing at yourself for forgetting one of the vital ingredients for the cream pie, how could you?
Hissing as you pace around the kitchen, you open the fridge with brutal force, head close enough to imploding as you rummage inside for a drop of milk to be found.
"There's no way I'm making a second trip. Not with these gas prices." You whisper to yourself, drawing your head back from being stuck deep inside the fridge, using the curve of your ass shut the doors.
Nibbling on your fingernails, you take one more glance at the ingredients on the counter; contemplating whether you should head back, give up fully and try another day, orâŚ.
ding dong!
Hand on hip, your head darts to one side, towards the sound of the doorbell. Who could it be?
Dragging your feet to the front door, you reach over by your side to the console table; digging your hands into the glass bowl for your keys.
Another knock sounds from the door, a deep voice speaking from behind it. â..Delivery!â
As you fiddled with the lock, you glanced over to the clock on the wall; reading exactly half past four in the afternoon. You weren't expecting anyone, really. You usually kept to yourself on Fridays, just to relax from a weekâs worth of busy work.
Taking a swift look into the peephole, you could only see the glass covered with whiteâ it seems that whoever is outside is clearly blocking the view.
The door opens widely, revealing a familiar figure you tend to see a few times each weekâ the milkman. You take note of the few beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, unable to be hidden by his cap. Did he.. run here?
Dark brown hair, tickling the top of his shoulders; cap embellished with "Milkman" just before the brim. Covered in white, bar his black pants. You recall that he goes by the name Choso, a piece of valuable information you managed to pull out of him during an interaction only a few weeks ago.
You must admit, your milkman was quite decent looking for someone with a position like his, and the cute bow tie encircled around his neck depicted him to look sweet and dandy. Wait, there's no way I'm swooning over my local milkman right now.
"Oh, Choso- How could I forget?!" You chirp, seems as if he came at the most ideal time you could possibly think of. "What a coincidence, just in time for my cream pie!"
His biceps scream against the fabric of his short-sleeves, begging to be let out as he tightens his grip around the neck of the glass bottle. "I-in time for your what?" Ears painted with a tinge of red, he looks shocked, more on the flustered side.
Letting out an anxious giggle, you point back behind you with the use of your thumb. "Sorry- I meant I was just about to bake a cream pie right now, and I realised I forgot the milk." Looking over your shoulder, then back at him, he smiles back; clearly flustered over the misunderstanding.
"R-right, I apologise, it's been a really long day.." He hands over the bottle, slightly crouching down to pick up his carrier that rested at his feet. "You're actually my last delivery today, they let me off early cause of the work I've done this week."
Holding the door open with your foot, you carefully place the jug on the same console table behind you, smiling to yourself as he went on a tangent about all the things he had accomplished this weekâ as if he was expressing genuine content rather than boasting.
"Well someone has been a good boy this week, huh?" You innocently beam at him, Choso's knuckles growing white as he clenched the carriers handle. He seems appreciative of the comment, but looks as if he wasn't used to receiving any.
"..Yeah.." Diverting his gaze away from you, he decides to stare down at the top of his shoes, until something you say has his eyes darting back up at you in a split second. The air so thick with tension, the two of you suddenly stay silent.
Humming before you speak your words, you ponder and wonder if your offer was a bit out of line. "..Would you like to come in for a bit? I could really use some help in the kitchen," Not hearing an immediate response from him, you add on, "You could have some of my cream pie afterwards. It would be a workout going down all those steps again, I assume!"
Choso reaches a free hand behind his head, scratching at his nape in contemplation. He knew that you were referring to the endless flights of stairs that were nothing but a nuisance to him as he tried to get to your apartment.
The fact that you had been the only customer in this entire apartment block, didn't have any effect on him thoughâ as it was you he was looking forward to see each time he's out on the job.
Each time he dropped the same jug of milk at yours, only meant that his low lying interest in you would continuously grow, to the point that he couldn't think of anything else, but you. The man was whipped.
He wanted to get to know you better, but couldn't muster up the courage. He felt as if there never an appropriate time to do so, and the fact he landed a job as milkman, the guy assumed that you thought of him very little.
âI.. donât know if I should..â He mumbles, anxiety and hesitation written all over his faceâ so easily read.
You roll your eyes, now leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, Choso slightly taking a step back to refrain from crossing a certain line with you so up close. âCome on, itâs not like Iâll get back to your boss with this!â
Crashing at yours for a bit meant that he'd finally have the opportunity to spend some time with you. Little steps, am I right? He couldn't miss out on something like this. Only a fool would do so.
"..I-I'd love to help you with your cream pie." He blurts out, lips parted due to solely being mesmerised. The two of you gawk at each other for longer than intended, but it doesnât allow things to turn awkward. Was it the choice of words? The tone? What was it, really?
You blankly stare at him for a second longer than he did, nodding in approval. You had very little hope in him actually saying yes. "..Alright, come in." Beckoning at Choso, you step aside, noticing how he hesitates for a moment, just before he enters at his own will.
You watch as he walks further into the apartment, stopping considerably at a point just to not go out of bounds.
Your own eyes trail down his back, surprisingly so broad, that was now facing you. Having to peel your gaze away, you safely lock the door, dropping the key back into the dish beside you.
Grabbing at the jug, you make your way past Choso; taking yet another glance behind your shoulder for reassurance, just to see him trailing behind you like an obedient puppy.
"Make yourself feel at home, don't be shy!" You remarked, stepping around the kitchen island as you gathered the ingredients back onto the counters; Choso stopping just by the stools in front of you. He seemed all quiet and timid, even doing a double take before he decides to place his carrier on a stool beside him.
He sets aside his cap, politely tucking it away into his carrier before calling for you from across the island. ���So.. Is there anything I could help with..?â Extremely eager to assist you in your endeavours, he found it so absurd that he was literally with you, right now, in your own apartment.
âIâm okay for now, just relax for the time being.â Your tone reassuring, you continue your current task as soon as you flash him another smile.
Swiftly putting some ingredients into a bowl, you still occasionally glance up at Chosoâ the second time round, you didn't even notice that he was already situated beside you, his hands gripping at the edge of the counters as he watched your every move.
"..Hmm, you ever made a cream pie, Choso?" You blurt out, carefully sieving the flour into yet another bowl. You must admit, your words intentionally had a different meaning to them. It was funny, and you knew he would flip out; his burning gaze at the side of your head being unavoidable.
His cheeks flash hot, words stumbling after one another. "I uh, haven't, no.." His voice growing small, you were right in thinking that he thought of a different kind.
Choso mentally argued with himself for doing so, as now wouldn't be the best time to feel his cock strain against his pants. He had to immediately swat the thoughts away, as they were already tight enough. "..Have you?"
His sudden reply had your sieving come to a halt as you slowly looked up to him next and you; just to see that he was still doing the same. Staring into his eyes, you try to think of an answer, swallowing the lump in your throat in the midst of it all.
"..No, I haven't." Your words come out in a whisper, noticing how his eyes alternate between yours and your parted lips. "I've never made one.. It's my first time today." Blinking slowly, you grow timid, your eyes making its way back to the bowl.
Resting your two hands flat down on the counter, Choso's breath hitchesâ his finger reaching down towards your chin. Guiding you to properly look up, he slightly crouches down to close the space between you two, and in a split second, your lips latch onto each other.
Eyes squeezing shut, you melt into the kiss, wrapping both arms around his neck to bring him closer; Choso letting out a subtle grunt as he hesitates about where to place his hands.
"I.. wanna touch you,â Resting his forehead against yours, his voice trembles, finishing with a helpless crack. Choso was practically begging you, and something about that just had you over the edge. "You don't know how much I've been wanting this.. I need you.. please..â
And he wasnât lying. He wondered how your soft skin felt to his touch. He always wondered whether he would ever be able to have the chance to make you feel good.
Breathing heavily against his lips, you just nod hysterically, and in less than a second he slithers both hands under your ass, hoisting you into his embrace as he gently places you on the counter beside.
Your lips crash onto each others once again, Choso feeling up and down your body, his demeanor showing how much he's been wanting this for ages. He couldn't even believe it himself. You? Allowing him to have you? Is he dreaming?
A mewl escapes your lips as he cups your face into his hands, his ticklish kisses eventually moving down to your neck, the way he touches you seem so tender, and genuine, Choso didn't want to rush anything. He wanted to savour you.
He anchors himself between your legsâ chest heaving so intensely from pure excitement. Meanwhile, you strip your top off, Choso swallowing a lump as he processes the fact that you had nothing else underneath this whole time.
He wastes no time, eagerly latching his mouth onto a breast, groaning as he firmly shuts his eyes, tongue relentlessly swirling around your nipple. His free hand fondles with the other as you comb your fingers through his hair, caressing it gently to let him know he's doing a good job.
You let out a string of breathy moans, a pop sounding from his mouth as he lets go. Pausing for a moment, you try stabilise your breathing, confusion written on his face.
"The sofa," You pant, Choso doing more so the same; his brows furrowed in despair as he yearns for more of you. "Let's move to the sofa.."
And he nods, beckoning you to wrap your legs around his torso once again, your arms being used as support to cling to him. You rest your head against his chest for a split second, allowing you to hear the ecstatic pace at which his heart was going at.
His feet stops just before the sofa, giving you the opportunity to drop back down, in which you suddenly grab his hand and pull him along. Choso seems perplexed, until you gently push him down onto the sofa by the chest, and he could do nothing but stare at you in pure adoration.
"Just relax yourself, okay?" Your voice soft, you kneel after he nods obediently, more than happy to agree with whatever you say.
You donât dare look away, fingers toying at his belt buckle; which soon enough you end up undoing. Choso was about to lose his mind, and it took a lot in him to not leak right here, right now.
Tugging on the waistline of his pants, the man shifts his hips around to allow for more leeway. His mouth remains open as quiet, irregular huffs slip out, so eager to experience the very next thing you'll be doing.
Stopping as soon as his pants met his ankles, you smile, noticing the wet spot that had formed on his boxersâ your hand gently rubbing up and down his protruding bulge. A whimper chokes out of him as he shuffles around a bit more, causing him to bite down on his bottom lip to suppress any more moans. He was too afraid to admit that anything you do has him melting.
All he could do was look down at you between his legs in bliss. Choso just couldn't believe it, and this was definitely not how he expected to end his evening.
His boxers follow after his pants, feeling him shudder under your touch as he comes into contact with the cold air. You shift around upon seeing his throbbing, leaking tip; not letting anymore time pass as you wrap your mouth over it, your satisfied humming sending vibrations to and through him.
Looking up to observe a reaction, Choso only slaps a hand over his mouth, groaning into it as his face returns to the same, crimson red; his other hand shaking as he tries to rest it on the back of your head.
Your head bobs up and down, cheeks hollowing and a free hand kneading at his balls for extra stimulationâ Choso endlessly whimpering into his palm as his head falls back into the cushions, eyes eventually closing as he floated around in a pool of pleasure.
Buckets of spit trickled down your chin as you continued sucking him off, Choso squirming in the seat from time to time, his legs unable to stay still. You decide to take another peek, looking at him one more time, and thought to yourself; he seemed cute with the bowtie still on, his actions causing a flutter in your abdomen.
"Mmh," Muffled, as he was too busy suppressing a loud moan, he gives up, hand leaving his mouth to grab onto the sofa behind him. His other free behind your head tightens its grip, Choso suddenly fucking his hips up from the sofa, his teeth gritting as helpless grunts try to slip out. "Cu.. I'm gonna.. Uh.."
Your two hands suddenly place flat onto his thighs as he fucks into your throat, Choso's array of whines intensifying as he feels his balls contracting constantly, his face so warm to the touch.
So helpless, his two hands sets its place into your scalp, Choso bottoming his cock into your throat as he lets out a lengthy moan as a familiar feeling he had never felt washes through his body.
Tears welling up in your eyes, you mentally note to yourself to continue breathing through your nose, Chosoâs prolonged groan causing a pool between your legs. You feel a rope of warm fluid shoot down your pipes, your hands repeatedly slapping at his thighs for a sliver of air.
His head hauling back down, he didnât look the same as he did a few minutes agoâ Chosoâs eyes low and dark as he pulls you off his cock, a questionable grunt coming from him as he takes note of your fucked up face.
He tried his best not to laugh as you shot him a deathly glare, and of course failed. His smile fades, turning into horror as he watches you slide his cock in the midst of your cleavage, lip quivering as you drop an orb of your own spit on his tip that was slightly peeking out.
Chosoâs hands grip at a cushion nearby on the sofa as you began to clamp your breasts together around his cock, moving them both up and downâ throaty whimpers instantly emitting from him as you reinforced the stimulation on his still sensitive girth.
âNghhâ,â He cries out, mouth left gaped as he felt yet another foreign knot forming in his stomach; somehow identical to what he felt before orgasm, but just stronger.
âItâs too.. too much,â His words come out in a whisper, Chosoâs letâs stamping the sides of your arms as you were anchored between themâ his whiny voice trembling as he felt yet another impending orgasm that was about to hit him even harder.
A devilish smile plasters onto your face as you occasionally stuck a tongue out to chafe over his throbbing tip, Choso only able to let out deep grunts this entire as he occasionally looked down at you in a state of euphoria.
âAgai-n, Iâm.. cum..â Incapable of finishing a sentence, his tit engulfed cock twitches, much thicker ropes of white shooting up into the air, dropping back down into your chest as it splatters droplets everywhere.
Chosoâs head feels heavy at this point, his eyes lazily scanning his surroundings as he spots you decorated with the white drops that somehow managed to make its way to your face too.
Getting back to his senses, he attempts to sit up, legs still weak but with enough strength, his first instinct was to tend to you; the same hands clawed in your scalp making its way back to your cheeks as he kissed you so lovingly, his teeth nipping at those lips that were wrapped around his cock a few minutes ago.
Him being the first to pull always, it seems Choso has a request of his own. â..Get on the sofa,â he instructs, no sign of a stutter left to be heard within his words.
Chewing on your bottom lip, you beam a sinister smile as your aching knees rise off the groundâ followed by you throwing yourself onto the sofa beside him.
You watch as he slightly jerks his cock, his eyes watching you take your turn obey orders. Raising your hips slightly to make things easier, you stripped the last of your garments; kicking away your underwear to the other side of the room.
Choso mirrors your actions, kicking off his shoes and trousers as he follows with his knee settling between your legs. You look up and survey his every move as his fingers yank at his bow tie, loosening it overallâ his hands still trembling as he attempts to undo all buttons of his shirt.
You giggle, reaching down playfully toying with yourself as you place a foot on his bicep, shamelessly exposing your pussy even more to him as he peered down at you in utter silence.
Finally stripping away his shirt, the bow tie keeps its place and hangs around his neckâ your impatient self subtly grinding against his thighâ your slick evidently leaving a mark on his skin.
âJust fuck me, Choso..â You whisper, sticking a finger into your leaking hole that has been that way ever since you made out with each other. Your words examined his ability to maintain his composure, Choso felt that it was time you did the things he wanted you to do.
His breathing hitches, Choso sucking in a breath as he leans in closer, as he guides the tip of his cock to align with your hole. An unoccupied hand grabs your legs, hoisting both on each of his shoulders.
Folding you into a mean mating press, your arms encircle his back, your moans tickling the shell of his ears as he slid himself inâ throaty grunts also sounding from him.
Choso begins to move his hips slowly, your mouth gasping at his girthy cock stretching you out completelyâ his face buried into the crook of your neck as his hot breath fanned against your skin.
âFaster.. faster Choso..â You plead, his hips immediately snapping into you at a faster pace, his lowly grunts returning to the familiar whimpers as your gummy walls wrapped around his entire length. Feeling him in your gut, you chant his name like a prayer, Choso doing his best to fuck you in all the right spots.
A loud moan slips past your lips, your manicured nails scratching at his chiselled back like a kitty and itâs scratch post. As he fucked you into the sofa, something similar to a growl was heard from him as you dragged your nails down his entire back; surely leaving an evident trace of you behind.
Seemingly not enough for him, he uses his knuckles by your sides to prop himself up- Choso grabbing your ankles into the grasp of one hand and pushing them down further and infront of him this time.
On the verge of losing his mind, Chosoâs hips brutally fuck into you, his cock deeper than everâ a white, creamy ring forming at his shaft.
His heart races at the sight of his thick cock disappearing in and out of you down below, Choso almost hypnotised at the sights as if he were eyeing a pendulum. His hand lets go of your ankles, grabbing for the edge of the sofa above your headâ cock drilling you mercilessly into the cushions.
You mewl and whine, utilising maximum strength to keep your eyes open and hold a good view of Choso, his free thumb reaching down to swipe a stripe on your cheek as he coos a few praises at you.
The position you were in as of now had been churning both of your minds, Choso admittedly finding it difficult to continue fucking into you as he was about to cum at any given moment.
âFuck,â he sucks in a breath through clenched teeth, eyes looking into yours as he studied your facial expressions, âSo pretty,â Your cheek eventually fits into his palm as he fluctuates the pace at which he was fucking into youâ nothing but satisfaction and adoration to be seen in his eyes.
His hips rut into your hole slow and deep, your hands grabbing at his wrists as you felt him bullying your cervixâ cock endlessly rubbing between your walls, tip seldomly hitting against your sweet spots.
The legs of the sofa creak against the floor boards, eventually beginning to scoot itself to another side of the room. You couldnât care less about consequences you might face with the downstairs neighbours tomorrow.
Strands of his hair stick to his forehead and temples, your fingers hooking around the strap of his necktie to pull in him closer, your lips yearning to have his on yours.
Your walls uncontrollably clench around his length, Chosoâs head falling back in bliss; his mouth emitting short, overwhelmed breaths for a few seconds.
Your tits press against his chiselled chest as he fucks you silly, almost as if it was payback for treating him like he was clueless. Did you really think heâd let you boss him around?
Chosoâs leans down once again, mouth sucking and leaving marks all over your breasts as he feels himself coming to one of his many orgasms today�� buckets of sweat glistening over his physique like a glossy finish.
You grab at his bicep, slapping it repeatedly to give him notice of your impending orgasmâ Choso planting a wet kiss on your lips to quickly swallow the âOâ your mouth had formed.
He instantly slides his cock out of your hole, taking his length into his fist as he pumps himself slow. His fingers fan over your clit as he ushered you to orgasm and make a mess, so desperate to have you cum all over him. Alternating between sticking his middle and ring finger inside, Choso curls his digits up as he jerks his fingers inside of you.
Your head peers down to see his forearms flexing with his every move, your eyes rolling to the back of your head; squelching noises coming from your pussy.
âDonâtâŚdonât do that-â Your brows furrow, lips returning to its O shape as you attempted to hold his wrist as he continued to curl his fingers into you. He knew what he was doing. Choso wanted to make you squirt.
His pleas fucking your mind to an extent, it felt like a mixture of bliss and tortureâ your eyes struggling at this point to remain open.
â..Come on,â He urges, so needy as he strokes his cock as in-front of you as he watches how you unravel underneath him; Choso slapping his heavy length on your inner thigh whenever he has the chance. âCome on pretty, let goââ
âO-oh, Chosoââ You squeal, fingers reaching and scraping at his pelvis as he got back at you for fucking him up to overstimulation. Your nipples sore and perky, he had to resist the urge to suck on them again.
He spits out his words closely together, pressing his forehead against yours for the second time as you peered your eyes up into his.
âCome on, come on- thatâs it,â Choso cooing at you as you released your juices all over his fingers, a sob could be heard from you as a hot flush rushes through your body.
His hand absolutely soaked as he pulls out, Choso nonchalantly wraps his mouth around his fingers, sucking on your slickâ his saliva mixing in with the shining fluid that covered his hands.
Pulling you closer to his pelvis by hooking his two hands around your thighs, Choso slips himself back into your holeâ your inner thighs soaking with juices.
A mutter of curses under his breath, Choso absolutely loved your warm walls taking his cock whole, his girthy length moving with ease due to the present slick.
Choso was on the verge of losing his mind once again as he realised that he literally got you to squirt less than a few seconds ago, his cock desperately throbbing all over again.
His cock fucks in and out of you, this time cautiously slow as he made sure not to cum inside of youâ your clenching walls making it a difficult task for him.
Too sensitive, Choso pulls his cock out with haste, slapping his tip against your clit as he released his own load just outside of your pussy. His entire face flooded with rouge, cock profusely leaking; his grunts in synchronisation with his throbbing balls.
With the use of his tip, Choso pushes the load back into your hole, his cock completely stilling inside for the time being.
Your mind in a daze, you let out a sigh, Chosoâs hand caressing up and down the side of your legs as he remained anchored between them.
âWe literally just fucked off with the baking. Went and did a whole other cream pieâŚâ You scoff, hanging your head off the sofa, an upside down view of your kitchen filling your visionâ everything still left exactly how it was on the countertop.
Silently laughing, Choso takes your leg into his grasp, his head turning to the side as he plant a kiss on your calves. Bringing a hand down to your hole, he stuffs a digit or two in, scooping a few beads of his cum allowing it to coat his fingertips before moving his hand closer to your lips.
â..Milk delivery,â Choso chimes, mimicking his first words from outside your door earlier.
⚠࣪ Ë â¤ł Š luvwestwood â24 . all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not repost on a third party platform.
⚠࣪ Ë â¤ł as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts! it means the world to me. ily all soo soo much!
[luvwestwood masterlist]
#choso kamo smut#choso kamo x reader#choso smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#choso kamo#jujutsu kaisen choso#choso kamo x female reader#choso x reader
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yes there's a lot of things to criticize about Star Wars but one thing i will always love it for is being so unabashedly tragic
i'm sure it's been said before, but one of the main things i think powers the SW fandom (fics in particular) is the (in)evitability of it all
time travel fix-its are one of the most popular sub-categories of fics that i've seen (for the prequels at least) but i see it much more rarely in other fandoms. i know each fandom has their own niches that they dig into but star wars fic writers took one look at this decades long story of people who were doomed from the start and said 'not in my house bitch'
and i'm never tired of it, because there's so many places where just one different action could have changed the story entirely, but didn't
was it over the moment Palpatine succeeded in feeding Anakin's fears and his distrust toward the Jedi? the moment the Sith gained control of the senate? what about when the war started, when the Jedi were made generals of men designed to be their executioners? what about when Dooku left the order? when Qui-Gon Jinn died, leaving barely-knighted Obi Wan Kenobi to raise a child he had no idea how to care for? when the Jedi massacred the Mandalorians at Galidraan, leaving Jango Fett primed (hah) for revenge? when Palpatine, and thus the Sith, first gained influence? when the Jedi were tied to the Republic, all the way back at the Ruusan Reformation?
there are so many little moments that turn into this huge web of cause and effect when you take a step back. and in canon, these characters are dooming themselves while we watch, but what reason do they have to do anything different? they don't know they're in a tragedy - its dramatic irony at its goddamn finest
but there's this thing about decisions: for it to be a choice, there has to be another option. and our heroes make their mistakes because that's what they do, while we aren't privy to that other option, leaving that little what-if. it's a favorite human pastime, to think about what might have been.
we start at episode 4, though, fourty or so years after what you could arguably call the start, and find ourselves watching the dominoes fall in place throughout 1, 2, and 3.
and we can hate the choices, hate the tragedy, hate what happened to our beloved characters, but we knew. we had the luxury of knowing.
it's a love story, it's political intrique, it's sci-fi at its finest, and they were dead from the start.
#star wars#star wars prequels#obi wan kenobi#anakin skywalker#qui gon jinn#jedi#sheev palpatine#jango fett#count dooku#padme amidala#rots#aotc#sw prequels#tpm#luke skywalker#leia organa#star wars original trilogy#babe help im musing again#sorry i just have a lot of thoughts#and i love tragedies
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GENSHIN MEN ANDâŚ
prompt: HOW THEY WOULD REACT IF YOU SACRIFICED YOUR LIFE FOR THEM
character(s): diluc, zhongli [part one] childe, ayato [part two, out]
warnings(s): angst ofcâmention of blood, my first post on tumblr so my writing style may be a little icky, inaccuracies since I havenât looked up genshin lore for a hot minuteÂ
note(s): male reader, second person, present tense, not beta read
DILUC
Thereâs a lot of things you havenât told him yet. Things you wished you had told himâbut everythingâs fine, because in this single action you are willing to do for himâyour feelings will come inevitably with it and itâs a torrent of emotions that youâre about to burden him with.
Heâs been your childhood friend for seventeen years now. All those times you have seen him, smiling, his merry laughter carrying over the breeze, his lips purple from sampling grapes, to the time where that very laughter and smiles disappear to smoothen into a stone face. After the death of his father, Diluc has become reserved, cold, and rather distant. Bitter.
You two were close, once.
You two had a bond that many could not quite interpretâ it was as clear as day that you both trusted each other fully, but each always had secrets to hide. Some say proximity is the reason why both of you got close â your manors were near to each other, but truthfully, it was as simple as it was: you two had the same social standing. Both you and Diluc were, for each of their families, supposed to be close for the sake of future alliances and unions, but the friendship soon turned genuine, only for it to crumble under the weight of guilt and grief.
Only for it to crumble on the day Crepus died.
You still remember it vividly; in all its sickening, gruesome, heart wrenching detail. You were fortunate enough not to witness it, but etched in your memory, all you can think of is Dilucâs ravaged expression when he trembled before his fatherâs corpse.
You were helpless then. You could have extended an arm, you could have done something.
You didnât.
But now would be different. You know the archons have it in for him when the incident happens the same way it happened with his father: via a carriage incident.Â
You laugh then at its bitter irony.
Bandits come, a whole load of them, and this time Diluc fights while you are there helpless once again, trembling when you hear the clash of swords and arrows. When you hear his claymore smash against flesh. You donât have a vision. Diluc has. You donât have any particular skill in handling a sword; Jean has tried to teach you once, but it has failed. Your brain may be quick and witty, but your steps arenât.Â
The bandits have delusions. The archons really are cruel.
You see it before he does. Thereâs a burst of electric power that he's battling, the elementals clashing with each otherâyouâre still lagging behind, barely missing the whizzing arrows that skim your flesh, your heart wrenching as you see Dilucâs pained expression. You know what heâs thinking of, and it isnât you. His memories are reverting back to his fatherâs death. His birthday. And perhaps thatâs why his usual sharpness is wearied down.
You see the sword about to plunge his back before he does.
You scream to tell him.
Your body moves before anything.
Your fingers fumble to clasp the fabric of your clothes, before you tug him out of the way. You feel the weight of a sword against your back; you feel the way it slices through your skin before it presses against your flesh. You taste blood on your tongue, before a myriad of colors burst out; crimson, carmine. All the shades of red. You wobble then, choking out blood, before you stumble. You hear a few slices; razor, swift sharp ones. Then the last of the assailants falls down, and you are made aware that your decision has been the right one.
Diluc has survived.Â
You stumble. You feel your body hit the ground. Murkiness runs your vision.
â[Name],â you hear a soft, whispering voice carry to your ears. You try your best to cling onto the words. But pain is burning within youâitâs ironic, how they feel more scorching than Dilucâs flames have ever felt. You try your best to swallow down your pants and your pained noises, but it ends up slipping from your mouth in broken, mottled syllables.
Your blurry vision makes out a face.
He cannot be Diluc. Heâs crying. And the last time you have seen Duluc cry is whenâ
Oh.
âDonât cry,â you say weakly. âDonât cry, Diluc. Iâm sorry I wasnât of much help.â You try to reach out to his cheek. You regret it a split second afterwards because blood stains his cheeks wet from tears. You end up smearing red all over his face.
âWhy?â Diluc says, and it sounds guttural, like the words have been punched out from him. âWhy, [Name]?â You hear a flurry of footsteps behind. You assume itâs some surviving witness who has gone to call for backup. But you doubt youâll survive.
You donât even know why. To begin with, you arenât even sure if you are in love with him. The swirling butterflies that flutter about when you see him tells him you are, but societyâs expectations push those down. You have been in love with him for as long as you can remember; you have loved him. You have annotated every inch of him down to your memory, every contour, every bit. In your dreams he visits you, smiling sweetly. And you try to remember him when you wake up, trying to pretend that heâs still there, that heâs no longer bitter.Â
âI donât know.â Your words come out broken, punctuated by the gurgling of blood from your windpipe.Â
Itâs a half truth. You love him. You donât know if you do.
âIâm sorry.â
Diluc is sobbing now. Itâs uncharacteristic of him. You are brought back to the night when you saw him break down in front of his fatherâs corpse. And you arenât yet a corpse: your heart is still beating faintly, your lips are still moving, your body is still trembling. âThereâs a lot of things I wanted to tell you, Diluc.â
âDonât die,â he pleads fervently. His lips graze your forehead, thenâand before you know it, heâs embracing you, his tears wetting your shoulder. His begging is childish. Does he not know that the Archons have long abandoned their people? Does he know the sky is empty, and that no amount of pleads can bring a person back to life? You doubt so. âDonât die, [Name]. I love you.â
He loves you. You smile. He loves you. Words have never felt so sweet befor, and it curbs the bitterness of death upon your tongue. âI love you, [Name]. I love you, so donât die.â
He loves his father too. But still his father had perished. Similar to you.
âIâm so happy to hear that,â you smile weakly. Your finger starts to fall. âIâm really happy to hear that.â
You donât have enough time to say those three words back, but itâs fine.
Your actions already did.Â
ZHONGLI
note(s); reader is an adepti, takes place during archon war
A God has seen their fair share of grieving. So have Adepti. Some come with ageâitâs normal for mortal alliances to die before those who are immortal, after all. There is also the Archon War, which has already torn away Zhongliâs beloved companion, Guizhong. And everyday he chokes down the bile in his throat and continues to annihilate and fight. Heâs always been built for this, after all, heâs an Archon. Heâs a ruthless one at that, known for his brutality and his power. And everyday he looks at you and can only pray again and again to Celestia, that you remain alive.
Guizhong and you have both been his favorites since you two have met. It was Guizhong and you first, before Zhongli met you. Both you and Guizhong were best friends; almost; like sisters and brothers. Guizhong was gentle and sweet, reprimanding at times. You were sweet too, but could be more uncouth. Strong language littered your sentences at times, and Zhongli would see it then; the way Guizhong tugged at you to scold you, or the way you would smile at her. Brother and sister.
Naturally, when Zhongli grew close to Guizhong, he grew close to you. It was funny to see that you hardly knew much about history, though Guizhong clearly loved it. And so it was almost a cycle. Whatever Guizhong taught Zhongli, he taught you. Guizhong had remarked a few times, what an incredible person he was to make even you listen to facts you had earlier called boring.
(âYou mellowed a lot, Morax,â Guizhong had told him once. â[Name] mellowed you. You really do care alot for him, donât you?â
âI suppose.â)
Gods arenât meant to be mellowed. They are meant to be powerful. Strong enough emotionally so as to not bat an eye when it comes to deaths.
But everything falls apart when Guizhong dies.
He sees you fall to the ground, sobbing and sobbing and crying at the loss of your beloved sister. He sees the way you touch her statue, turned to stone, cradling her face and wishing you were touching soft skin, instead of cold stone. Not sister by blood, but sister in name. He sees the way you break apart after that; Zhongli feels a human sense of emptiness and pain that comes with her death.
Itâs all right, he told himself repeatedly. In his grief he has started to flood himself with reassurances. I still have [Name]. I still have [Name]. I still have [Name].Â
He sees the way you lose yourself in battle after that. Your attacks become sloppy, you become more careless. You become more injured. Zhongli never bothered with your skill. You were talented and strong enough. But now he finds himself protecting you the times you stumble, the times you start to choke out sobs during battle, the times you go wild and bloodthirsty against those you assume have contributed to her death.Â
Guizhong has said once that he loved you. Zhongli never bothered to think about that. He assumed he would know it himself, when time came. He didnât need to worry about being in what mortals called a relationshipâhe would get this war finished with you, become a mortal, and love you freely. It didnât matter if you didnât love him. Zhongli could love you at a safe distance. It would all be all right.Â
He never imagined your declaration of love towards him would come so easily and devastatingly.
Zhongli sees you struck by a burst of elemental power before anything. He sees the way you shoved him inside; he sees the irony. He was so preoccupied with watching you. He hadnât seen the enemy crawl up to him or nearly kill him. Like how he was watching you, you were watching him. And now his care has killed you.
â[Name].â
Thereâs an avalanche of emotions. First, heâs furious. He will leach out the killer and will inflict a thousand times more pain on them. Second, heâs heartbroken. Heâs terrified of losing you. He can feel your life ebbing away with each passing moment, and he has seen enough wounds to know no healer can save you. He feels your pulse thrumming beneath your skin and he knows youâre dying.
You smile. It looks more like a grimace. âJust survive this goddamn war.â
Zhongli isnât sure if he will. He feels like he might kill himself, that he might lay his body down next to yours, so that after death your souls would be intermingled, of sorts. It sounds romantic, but thereâs absolutely nothing romantic about your death. He does what the Gods are not supposed to do. He feeds into his humanity; he cries.
âAfterwards, just live as a human. I donât know. Be a dusty collector of antiques. Be a funeral planner or something strange like that. Just live, okay? You look like you want to die.â
You continue to ramble on. Your sentences become connected with each other. Your eyes start to flutter. Your words become faint and faltering.
âI canât live with you,â he whispers. âFirst Guizhong, then youâŚâ itâs all his fault. He should have seen it. He should have been more aware. He shouldâhe shouldâŚ
Itâs too late. Youâre dead, and he mourns just like a human; sobbing, aching, and dying a little inside.
For a brief moment Zhongli isnât a God.Â
hope everyone liked it! itâs my first post so im apprehensive haha be sure to like/reblog & leave a comment if u can
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#male reader#angst#hurt/no comfort#male#zhongli x reader#diluc x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin impact x male#genshin impact scenarios#first post#idk how to tag#Zhongli#Diluc#eroswrites
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i think, therefore i am | b.e.
billie eilish x guitarist-fem!reader
context. billie has a crush on her guitarist
warnings. smut, fingering, flirting, angst kinda, not proof read
request masterlist
the beat dropped and she glanced towards you, to make sure you were watching her, like she always did. sheâd interact with you as you strummed the guitar, trying to focus on plucking the strings instead of her fingers running across your jaw. in front of thousands of people. you loathed her for it, sheâd do it every time and ignore you afterwards, no longer giving you the attention sheâs so happily willing to give when itâs for entertainment.
after the show you were headed to the bathroom, needing to refresh yourself with some water. you hadnât expected to see her there, in the bathroom fixing herself up too. you ignored her, assuming sheâd ignore you in return. but this time, she didnât.
âyou were incredible tonight.â she complimented, you were taken aback completely, never having had a positive interaction with her.
âthank you?â you were hesitant to say much more but she eyed you as if she expected you to continue. âso were you.â you added before turning the tap on to splash your face with some water.
âwell donât seem so surprised. you know youâre my favorite from the band.â you laughed at this, she really wasnât good at expressing it if what she said was the truth.
âthatâs funny, this is the first time weâve talked.â she took offense to this for some reason.
âwell you couldâve talked to me.â she shrugged her shoulders, leaning an arm on the sink.
âtrue.â you admitted, lowering your face again to rinse your face with the face wash youâd brought, removing your makeup as you did. her hands replaced the one in your hair helping you avoid the water.
âthanks.â you said as you dried your face with a towel. her hand tucked your hair behind your ears delicately, the soft action weirding you out slightly.
âi got you.â she winked, lowering the lids of her eyes when she stood back to look at you fully. she didnât say anything and you mistook the silence as awkward.
âyouâre not a huge talker are you?â she questioned, rhetorical however.
âdepends on the person.â she raised her eyebrows, smiling at the slight shade.
âdamn, next time just tell me your not interested from the get go.â she turned picking up her stuff and you felt a tinge of regret.
âwhat do you mean?â you asked and she turned back.
âhm?â you thought she might act like she hadnât said anything but she searched your expression for something more.
âwell, you havenât really expressed interest. how was i supposed to know?â she seemed shocked.
âi havenât expressed interest? i practically grind on you at all the shows.â she rested a hand on her hip.
âyeah, but itâs for entertainment purposes.â you sounded unsure, and she caught sight of the sliver of doubt in the statement.
âyeah? it doesnât have to be.â she came closer to you, paralysing you with her words. her lips gravitated towards yours before she spoke again.
âit depends on you. what do you want, cause i think i know, but i need to hear it from you.â she whispered on your lips and her breath rendered them warmer.
âyou donât know what i want.â she saw this as a challenge and her hands rested on her hips, pulling you in.
âi know you want this.â her hands now moved across you neck as you let her explore your body, despite your rejecting words.
âyou think youâre so tough.â you replied, the insult bouncing off her, not having had the intended effect.
âI think, therefore I am.â she quoted, the irony of what had transpired hitting you where it hurt. but it didnât hurt nearly as much as your subconscious reaction to her fingertips on your waist.
âfuck.â you breathed before you kissed her. she smirked into the kiss, as cocky as ever. it destroyed your own pride.
âyou taste good baby.â she said once her tongue left yours.
âyeah?â you kissed her cheek, moving lower to her jaw. her hands played with the waistband of your sweats, pulling them low so that your underwear was peaking through. she fiddled with your panties as she took your face to kiss you again. you both grew more desperate, hotter and passionate. she spun you around so that your ass was against her hips, and you were leaning against the cold sink. you looked at her through the mirror and she caressed your ass, pulling your sweatpants down.
âtell me what you want.â she demanded and you closed your eyes in frustration, the moment so heated you lost sight of your common sense.
âyou, please just get me off billie.â it was the first time youâd addressed her and she pulled her lip with her teeth. her fingers travelled past your underwear quickly, gasping mockingly at your wetness.
âbillie.â it was a warning, telling her you didnât want to be teased. she obeyed and dipped her fingers in as you gripped the sink. she pushed you harder against the ceramic, her fingers just as rough inside of you. her free hand came up to your covered breast as she urged you to arch your back.
âdonât you look pretty?â she wiped the fog on the mirror, created by your heavy breaths and bold moans. her fingers were relentless, but her hand was soft against your ass. she moved back to your tits, this time under your shirt. she bit her lip when she felt them, trying to hold back, not wanting to make a mess of your clothes in case someone decided to come in.
âyou look so sexy when you play the guitar. so concentrated but so confident too.â she rambled on, the words not fully settling in your brain since you were occupied with the feeling of her fingers.
âmhm.â you mumbled carelessly. her lips were all over your neck, leaving traces of lipgloss around the bruises.
âif i could, i wouldâve taken you right on that stage.â her filthy words brought you closer to your release, and she knew exactly what she was doing when you clenched on her fingers.
âgod youâre hot when you come.â she commented as you tried to slow your heartbeat. you chuckled as her fingers left you and you turned around to face her, the sink leaving a mark on your lower hips.
âwe can do this again, i donât mind.â your words were flirtatious and she smiled.
âfinally youâve grown some balls.â you hit her shoulder playfully and she pulled you into her, pecking your lips softly.
#Spotify#billie eilish#billie eilish fanfiction#billie eilish fic#billie eilish gf#billie eilish imagine#billie eilish x fem!reader#billie eilish x reader#billie eilish x you#billie eilish smut#dom!billie
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It's time! For Room Fic Part 4 Part B! Of how many parts? IDK ANYMORE
This is the longest part of the fic yet, and it's also the most... talky. But I felt like this was a part of the recovery everyone wanted to see so I thiiiink it's fine.
Content warnings: vomiting, HEAVY discussion of eating issues (including calorie counting, done purely as a recovery mechanism in this fic but still worth noting), mentions of the non-consensual voyeurism that happened in the first part, and as always, anxiety and aftermath of torture
If you're lost, start here!
I'm soooo tired I only proofread like half of this. it'll go through full editing when it goes on AO3
-----
Leo crashes into his room and grabs anything within armâs reach to pull over himself. The blanket from his bed. A cardboard box, contents dumped on the floor. His skateboard, a beach towel, a plank of wood used to prop up action figures.
He cowers into his claustrophobic, makeshift nest, clutching his ill gotten gains to his chest. He doesnât know why he bothered, because thereâs nowhere to hide in here, and then theyâllâŚ
Theyâll do what? Itâs his family. And if theyâre upset with him for stealing the chips, well, he deserves that. Who is he to take food, when theyâre running low already?
Thatâs what he expected, actually, when the lights flipped on and Raph was standing there. To get yelled at, chewed out, dressed down - the way heâd been waiting for Raph to do this whole time. Why canât he just do as heâs told? Why does he always make the wrong decisions?
But Raph hadnât yelled. He ran off. And now Leo doesnât know what to expect at all.
He assumes Raph went to get their dad, or even Draxum. He waits in his hiding spot, heart pounding in his ears, and listens for the call of his full name, the surefire indicator that heâs in Big Time Trouble. He stole food, food he isnât even allowed to eat, and when theyâre running low, too. He doesnât know what the punishment is going to be, and the fear of not knowing pulls him deeper into his nest.
He wants to know. He dreads finding out.
Time passes. He has no idea how much. Thereâs no clocks in here (there hadnât been any clocks in there), and his phone is on the nightstand, hooked to its charger. To get it he would have to leave his hiding place. And heâs scared.
So he waits and waits and waits. Until his limbs grow uncomfortable and cramped, until no amount of shifting dulls the pain. His heart is still rabbit quick in his chest. (He may be a turtle but call him the hare-)
No one comes for him.
Finally, finally, when his body physically canât take this position anymore, he scoots out of his hiding spot and gets to his feet, bag of chips clutched in his fingers. He walks to the curtain over his doorway - though âwalksâ is really overselling it, with the way he pauses for hours between every step.
When he makes it to the doorway, he peeks out.
The lair is quiet. Everything is dark. No one is stirring.
He makes his way back to his bed, and looks at the bag in his hands. He feels so anxious that heâs nauseous. And he canât eat if heâs nauseous or heâll lose his dinner.
So he canât even eat the damn things. The irony would be funny if he could laugh.
He kneels down and fishes around under his bed for a box he knows is there. Itâs full of little toys and trinkets from childhood - things he saved from the old lair that he couldnât bear to throw away, but is too embarrassed to be seen with.
He dumps the contents of the box into the bigger one he hid under earlier. This is more important.
Then he hides the chips inside and scoots the box under the bed.
He climbs back onto his mattress, cringing when the bed springs creak. His blanket is still on the floor, but he doesnât want to get up and risk making more noise.
So he curls up on his mattress and stares at the wall and tries futilely to sleep.
Donnieâs brand new curtains donât even help. Maybe thatâs part of his punishment.
-----
Somehow, he manages to make it to breakfast. He doesnât remember who poked their head in to tell him it was ready, or how he picked himself up and walked to the kitchen. He just ends up there.
Mikey greets him with a sunny grin and the announcement that he gets oatmeal today, along with his scrambled eggs. Thereâs even some banana on top of the oats. He should be excited for the variety, but he feels numb. Still, he smiles as heâs expected to and thanks Mikey and hopes it passes scrutiny.
Draxum comes in, and then his dad. He stiffens up for both, muscles tense while he waits for the yelling to start. But no one starts yelling. Draxum sits and eats and Leo hears him give a reminder to take vitamins. Splinter reads out the shopping list, and everyone scrambles to add last minute items.Â
Normally, this is where Leo would be chiming in with all the snacks and junk food he wants, but he knows if he says anything heâll be turned down, so he doesnât. He can feel the weirdness of it, but he doesnât take his eyes off his food to see anyoneâs appraisal.
Donnieâs last in; he drinks his coffee fast and tries his luck with adding uranium to the list. He grabs a granola bar instead of eating what the rest of them are having, then tells Mikey to meet him at the entrance in five minutes and leaves. Mikey piles the dishes in the sink, then rounds the table to give everyone a hug goodbye, Draxum included.
Leo smiles when Mikey gets to him. Says, âHave a good day, Mikester.â Swallows down the impulse to grab on and beg him to stay.
He finishes breakfast, then goes to the TV room and settles into the recliner. Raph comes by and pats his shoulder and tells him to call if he needs anything. Splinter hops up and pats his head before following Raph away.
Heâs alone now. Alone, with Draxum, whoâs currently in the kitchen doing who knows what.
(Leo doesnât like leaving him alone in there. All their food is in there.)
(Well, not all of it. Leoâs made sure of that.)
He lays in the chair and pretends to be asleep. And he listens.Â
To be sure that his brothers and dad are really gone, and arenât coming back for a forgotten wallet or phone.
Until Draxum leaves the kitchen and moves for the train car heâs taken over as his own.
Until heâs sure no one is watching him.
Then he gets up. He goes to his room. Heâs not sure why he feels like heâs sneaking, when heâs obviously allowed to be there.
He makes sure all his windows are covered, curtains or otherwise. Makes sure the curtain over his door is stretched as far as it will go.
Then, as silently as possible, he reaches under his bed and pulls out the box. Opens it to reveal his stolen goods.
He unrolls the top of the bag, wincing at each crackle of the plastic. His eyes dart to the door, to the windows, to make sure no one is there, no one is watching him.
Then he reaches his hand in and grabs a chip in his fingers.
Heâs not sure if he should do this now. Maybe he should wait, save this when things get dire. But everyone is gone. Theyâve left him alone, with Draxum. What if Draxum doesnât let him eat, with no one here to step in?
Heâs scared of being hungry again. He doesnât want to go back to that place.Â
Just a few, he tells himself. Just a few, and then heâll stop.
He pulls the chip out of the bag, and takes a bite.
-----
Theyâre at the local grocery where no one asks questions, basket half full and three minutes in to Splinter trying to decide if the Buy One Get One Half Off deal for frozen dinners is really worth it or not, when it occurs to Raph that maybe they shouldnât have all left at the same time.
Of course, in normal times this wouldnât have been a big deal at all, especially with a nominally responsible adult in the lair. But times havenât been normal for over two weeks now. The thin shell of his little brother, once always the biggest and loudest in the room, now trying to make himself as small as possible, isnât normal.Â
They got Leo back, but it still feels like someone else has him.
And now Raph feels guilty. Heâd been so desperate to just get away, from the feeling of being inadequate, from the fear heâd make things worse, that now heâs probably made them worse anyway by leaving Leo alone with a guy he does not like. Raph should have stayed home. Or told Mikey and Donnie to wait until he and Splinter were back before leaving.
(That worries him too, for different reasons. He knows he canât lock his brothers up in the lair to keep them safe. But he kinda wants to.)
But he didnât do any of that, and now theyâre out and Leo is alone. Raph thinks of the chip bag and sighs. He just canât seem to make the right decisions. The calculus is overwhelming, and Raphâs always left math to Donnie.
âHey Pop,â he says, watching Splinter flip his fourth TV dinner over to look at the nutritional information. âDo you think⌠Leo is gonna be okay?â
Splinter pauses, then gingerly puts the box into their basket. He pats Raph at the knee, and Raph feels the overwhelming desire to be small again.Â
â...Yes, I do. It will take time and care, but I think, one day-â
âNo,â Raph cuts in, âI mean, do you think Leo is gonna be okay today? I mean, we kinda just ran off and left him alone.â
âHe is not alone.â Splinter makes a face, at odds with his words. âBaron Draxum is the most annoying man in the world, but he would not let harm come to you boys.â
Raph rubs his neck. âSure, but⌠Leoâs not exactly Draxumâs biggest fan. Especially not nowâŚâ
âBlue does not have to like him,â says Splinter airily. âHe just has to eat the food Draxum gives him.â
âYeah, but thatâs the whole problem,â Raph insists. âHeâs beinâ a huge jerk about it.â
âAh⌠I know. I have spoken to him about his⌠tone.â Splinter waves a hand. âHe is trying to be more polite.â
Raph thinks back to breakfast this morning. Heâd laugh if anything were funny right now. âIs that why he was all âpleaseâ and âthank youâ and âsorryâ this morning? He looked like he ate a lemon.â
And judging by how distant Leo was acting, he doubts any of it made an impression.Â
âIt just proves that the man is incapable of being nice!â Splinter chuckles. âDo not worry, Red. We will only be gone a few hours. Most likely, Blue will sleep until we are back.â
âRaph hopes soâŚâ
They continue moving around the aisles, crossing things off their list as they do. Itâs normal and boring and Raph thinks he needs that right now. If only it distracted him from the thoughts in his headâŚ
Thereâs so many questions to dwell on. And the biggest one looms over them all, constantly drawing Raphâs attention back to it.
Theyâre in the soup aisle when he speaks up again, saying, âHey, Pops, do you thinkâŚâ and then flagging out before he can voice it.
âOften,â says Splinter, reaching for a can of tomato bisque. âBut at my age, it can be difficult!â
Raph snorts despite himself, grabbing the soup can and passing it to his dadâs fingers. âCome on, Raphâs trying to ask a serious question here!â
âHm.â Splinter puts the can in their basket. âThen I will give a serious answer.â
âDo you thinkâŚâ Raph shifts the shopping basket from one hand to the other, and resolves not to chicken out this time. âDo you think Leo did the right thing? Not talkinâ to that Bishop guy?â
Splinter goes quiet for a long time. He points to a can of alphabet soup, the kind Leo insists heâs too old for but will happily eat when heâs sick, and Raph dutifully puts the can in the basket.
ââŚI think he did the brave and noble thing,â he says at length.
âThat ainât the same,â says Raph.
âI do not know if there was a right thing.â Splinterâs voice is sad, fingers idly stroking one of the soup cans. âIt could be that if Blue had talked, he would not be as hurt as he is now. Or it could be that Bishop would have⌠disposed of him, once they had what they wanted.â
The idea of Bishop âdisposingâ of Leo steals Raphâs breath. But itâs not like he hasnât thought of this before.
âApril said pretty much the same thing.â
âOho! April is very wise.â Splinter nods in satisfaction, affirming for Raph once again that his favorite kid is definitely April. But then he looks up at Raph sidelong and says, âBut that answer does not satisfy you.â
Raph sighs. âItâs just⌠what if he thought he had to stay quiet, because of something I- because he thought itâs what he was supposed to do?â
A furry hand lands on his. Raph takes a deep shuddering breath, and uses his free hand to scrub at his eyes. Theyâre damp, suddenly, and heâs not sure when that happened.
ââŚI often worry the same thing,â says Splinter, âabout all four of you.â
Raph doesnât know what to say to that. He already knows that their dad would give anything for the four of them to not have to fight; he also knows itâs out of his dadâs hands.
Why can he accept that, but not accept the same for himself?
âIâm afraid I do not have an answer for your question,â says Splinter, pulling Raph back to the grocery store. âI want you boys to be safe. But the situation Leonardo was in afforded him no safety. Iâm not sure there is a choice he could have made that would have helped him. StillâŚâ Splinter sighs. âIt could be the reasons he made the choice he did are troubling.â
âYeah,â says Raph. âThatâs what Iâm afraid of.â
âMm.â Splinter pats Raphâs hand. âYour questions and worries are wise ones, Raphael. Meditate on your answer, and when you are ready, share it with Blue. You will find your path forward together.â
Raph chews on his lips. âIâm scared Iâm gonna mess up,â he admits.
âSharing the truth in your heart is never a mistake,â says Splinter, âso long as you are doing it with love.â
Raph blinks at him. âPops, isnât that a line from one of your movies?â
âIt is a good line! Very heartfelt.â He picks up another can of soup and tosses it into the basket. âAs long as you are talking to Blue with love, you will do just fine, Red. And remember, this is not your sole responsibility. We are all here to help each other.â
It should be self-evident, but the reminder pulls some weight off Raphâs shoulders. Itâs not just up to him. Everyone is coming together to help Leo. Thatâs why Donnie and Mikey are at the scrapyard, to finish making curtain rods for Leoâs room. Thatâs why Draxum is always researching and scribbling in his notebook, refining his meal plan for Leoâs recovery.
Itâs not just Raph against the world. He isnât alone, and neither is Leo.
âYeah, I know. Thanks, Pops.â
âOf course, Red. Now, letâs keep moving or weâll be late getting back!â
On their way to the checkout line, Raph spots the candy aisle, and a bag of hard, sour candies. He stops, reaching out and brushing the bag with his fingers.
âMm⌠that is Blueâs favorite, isnât it?â asks Splinter.
âYeah.â Raph pulls the bag off its hook, holding it over the basket uncertainly. âI know he canât have âem yet, but heâll be able to eat normal stuff soon, right?â
âRight.â Splinter nods. âPut them in! We will hide them until Draxum says it is okay, then give them to him.â
Raph grins and drops the bag into the basket. At least itâs something to look forward to.
-----
Leo is halfway through the bag of chips when the curtain to his room is pushed aside and Draxum is standing there.
He was saying something about the vitamins Leo forgot to take as he came in, the little blue pill organizer clutched in his hand. But now he freezes, taking in the scene: Leo with a handful of sour cream and onion chips, his cheeks bulging slightly, the salty evidence tracking up the sleeve of his hoodie.
Heâs crossed the room before Leo can blink. He grabs Leoâs wrist, and Leo cries out, twisting his arm to try and free himself.
But he canât, heâs weak, heâs so weak-
âWhat are you eating!?â Draxum bellows. He tosses the pill organizer onto Leoâs bedside table; one of the lids pops open and thereâs little plinks as vitamins scatter. âHow much of this have you had!?â
He wrenches the bag out of Leoâs grip, and Leo yelps again as he loses the food. The only food he had, and now Draxum has it and Leo is going to-
âThis bag is over half empty,â snarls Draxum, waving it in Leoâs face. Leo doesnât have the presence of mind to defend himself, because heâs still trying to wrench his wrist free. He claws at Draxumâs arm with his free hand, and somehow it gets Draxum to let go; he jerks away with a gasp, dropping the handful of chips to the floor, and at the same time the ones already in his mouth leave painful scratches down his throat and lodge there. Leo doubles over and wheezes in a desperate attempt to get air.
âAre you- Leonardo!â Draxum looms over him, and Leo doesnât have the strength to flee. He canât do anything as Draxum strikes him, once, twice, three times on the shell in big, open-palmed slaps.
A white-hot cough rips up Leoâs throat, and he spews the half-chewed potato chips across his blanket, bits of drool and spittle dangling from his lips and tears rolling down his face. He sucks in a deep breath as feeling returns to his limbs.
The hand that hit him moves toward him again, and Leo dodges this time, flinging himself off his bed and into the floor, scrambling backwards to put distance between himself and his attacker.
âDONâT TOUCH ME!â he shouts, hand flailing for his swords and not finding them. Where did he put them? Where did they take them?
âLeonardo-âÂ
Draxum takes a step toward him, and Leo pushes to his feet, grabbing for anything nearby to defend himself. But thereâs nothing, nothing, where are his swords-
âLeonardo,â says Draxum more firmly, and he takes another step forward. âStop this, youâre going to hurt-â
âNo!â Leo presses himself back against the bookcase on the far wall, the metal shelves biting into the skin of his arms. âNo,â he repeats, and a high, manic laugh bubbles through his throat. âYou took my food.â
âThis,â Draxum shakes the bag, âis all empty calories. This is not going to help your recovery! Why canât you just do as youâre told-â
âYouâd like that, wouldnât you?â Leo spits. He feels stronger than he did a moment ago, pushing himself off the bookshelf and standing on steadier legs, squaring up against Draxum. âJust do as Iâm told?â He laughs, a cold sound. âJust like Bishop wanted.â
Draxum stiffens. Something about his expression is⌠weird. If Leo didnât know better, heâd almost say Draxum looks scared. âDo not compare me to him,â he says, and his voice is much lower than it was a moment ago. âI am trying to help you.â
âHelp me?â Leo holds out his hand, taking a step forward. âThen give me my food back.â
Draxum watches him, gaze unwavering. He holds the chip bag closer to his chest. âI cannot.â
Leo barks out a laugh, high and cold. âI knew it. Youâre just lying to me.â
Now heâs the one advancing on Draxum, slow but strong steps, one at a time. Draxum does not move.
âLeonardo-â
âIâm on to you,â says Leo. His voice is a chilly sing-song. âYouâre sooo happy to have everyone out of the house. Now thereâs no one to stop you from torturing me. Now you can watch me suffer.â
âI do not want you to suffer,â says Draxum, his tone measured. He still hasnât moved an inch, even though Leo is right in front of him now, within striking distance.Â
âThen why did you take my food!?â
âThis is not good for you,â says Draxum. âIâll feed you a healthy lunch in two hours.â
âYeah?â Leo shakes his head. âWhat do you want me to do for it?â
Draxumâs eyes widen. âWhat do you mean?â
âCome on. Tell me.â Leo grins. It hurts his face. âWant me down on my knees? Want me to beg?â
Draxumâs face goes a shade paler. âNo,â he says, firm. âYou donât have to do anything.â
âI donât believe you,â says Leo. He laughs again. âI donât. I donât BELIEVE YOU!â
His fist connects with the glass- but itâs not glass, itâs Draxumâs face, and he goes sailing across the room like a rag doll. He slams back first into shelving, and thereâs a clatter as Leoâs possessions tumble and fall around him.
He looks at Leo, eyes wide but expression steady, despite the fact that Leo justâŚ
Leo⌠doesnât know what just happened.
He shouldnât have been able to hit that hard. He shouldnât have been able to hit at all- Draxum should have blocked that, should have fought back, should have⌠should haveâŚ
â...What?â says Leo, and it comes out with a crack down the middle.
Draxum watches him a moment longer. Then he sighs and pushes himself off the shelves, getting back to his feet. He doesnât come closer. âI cannot give you these,â he says, indicating the bag. âBut I will not fight you.â
â...Why not?â Leo asks, because it just doesnât follow anything he thought was happening here.
âBecause I care for you,â says Draxum simply. Like itâs obvious.
â...I donât understand,â Leo says, because he doesnât.
Draxum nods. âThatâs because I havenât properly explained it to you. I didnât think it was necessary⌠but it was. Is.â He sighs, rubbing his cheek, starting to glow red from Leoâs punch. âIâm very sorry for that, Leonardo.â
Leo stares. Draxum is⌠apologizing? He should be attacking, fighting back, not apologizing!
The adrenaline leeches out of Leo, leaving him sagging in the middle of his room - his messy room, with everything thrown around like itâs in an active war zone. A million emotions are running through him, his dying rage warring against the confusion and the beginnings of remorse, a roiling mix that leaves him feeling sick to his stomach.
âŚOh wait, no. Heâs actually sick to his stomach.
Leo clamps a hand over his mouth, and Draxum is moving again - more calmly, this time. He drops the chip bag on the floor and grabs the wastebasket Leo has sitting by what could generously be called a desk. He holds it out, just in time for Leo to lose his breakfast and all the chips he just downed.
Leo hovers over the wastebasket until heâs empty, until heâs spit a few times to try and get rid of the taste. Then he wipes his mouth on his palm and looks up at Draxum warily.
âAre you finished?â Draxum asks.
Leo shrugs. Draxum takes that as an affirmative and lowers the wastebasket to the floor by the doorway.
âWhy are you helping me?â Leo asks.
âIâve been helping you this whole time,â says Draxum, and itâs only the exasperation that manages to break through that makes Leo think itâs - maybe - not a lie.
âWhy?â he repeats, more urgently.Â
âBecause you are my son.â
Leo steps back, his knees knocking into his bed. He sinks down onto the mattress, balling himself up until he can wrap his arms around his knees.Â
âNo,â he says. âMikeyâs your son. Raph and Donnie, theyâre your sons.â
A look passes over Draxumâs face. Itâs⌠sad.
âYou are my son, too.â Draxum takes a step toward him, then seems to second guess himself and stops. âI know we donât get along. But the fear that froze my chest when they told me you were gone couldnât mean anything else.â
Leo stares at Draxum, searching every part of his expression for any hint, any suggestion, that heâs lying. He waits for Draxum to change his tune, to start yelling again, to hit him, to do something.
Draxum doesnât. And Leo sags on the bed. The feeling of fear with nowhere to direct it leaves him floating.
âIâm going to explain everything to you now,â says Draxum. âBut I need to get a few things first. Will you be alright on your own for a few minutes?â
Being alone for a few minutes sounds great; Leo needs to pull himself together. He nods.
âGood.â Draxum stoops and picks up the wastebasket, then the bag of chips, and the chips that fell on the floor. âAnswer your phone,â he says, âbefore your brother comes back to skin me alive.â
Then he leaves the train car. Itâs only then Leo realizes his phone is ringing - has been ringing.
He scrambles to pick it up, seeing Raphâs name and picture lighting up the screen. Raph, who is supposed to be getting groceries, because theyâre running low.
Raph, who apparently didnât rat him out about the chips.
Leo shakily presses the answer button. Then he takes a deep breath and swallows to try and calm his voice.
Then he does what he does best and starts talking.
-----
âHeeey, bro,â says Leo, and Raph wants to weep with relief.
Heâs two full blocks away from the grocery now, headed for the manhole cover closest to the lair. Their groceries are somewhere on the street behind him, and Splinter is held tight in his other arm. When Leo didnât pick up right away, Raph started moving.
He felt it, after all: not as strong as the first time, not as desperate or afraid, but still there. Leo, terrified and alone and angry, crying out for help.
Leo hadnât answered the first four calls, and the worst scenarios are still playing out in Raphâs imagination, even though he can hear Leo now.
âLeo!â he cries, and nearly fumbles the phone. He hits the speaker button, lowering it so Splinter can hear, too. âWhat happened!? Are you okay!? Weâre on our way back right now!â
âWhoa, whoa, whoa,â says Leo, and his voice is scratchy and hoarse, but trying to be placating. âWhat are you talking about, big guy?â He sounds shaky, like saying those words in that tone is taking so much effort, and Raph wants to hit something until it breaks.Â
âJust tell me what happened,â he says, trying to sound calm and failing. Splinter pats his arm and speaks up.
âWe just need to know if you are alright, Blue.â
âYeah, Iâm fine,â says Leo, his voice cracking a bit on the last word. He clears his throat. âWhy wouldnât I be?â
Raph falters, staring at the phone. Does Leo not know? Could Leo really not feel himself doing that?
He gives his dad a helpless look. Unfortunately, Splinter looks just as helpless. Raph dithers on his answer too long, finally choking out, âRaph just⌠got a bad feeling.â
âYou get bad feelings over everything.â
(Raph wishes he did. Then he would have gotten a bad feeling when Leo went to Run of the Mill on his own.)
âThis was just⌠a real bad feeling.â
âLeonardo,â says Splinter softly, âare you certain you are okay?â
âYeah,â says Leo, and he doesnât sound like heâs okay, but like an actor pretending to be someone whoâs okay. âItâs⌠Look, me and Drax got in a fight, but it wasnât a big deal.â
âHe fought you!?â Raph shouts. Someone across the street gives him a weird look.
âNot physically!â says Leo hastily. âNot- I mean- he didnât- itâs not like he would hurt me, right?â
It sounds a little too much like an actual question, and Raph feels queasy.
âHe better not, or Raphâll hurt him.â
âRed,â says Splinter softly. Then he says, into the phone, âNo, Blue. He will not hurt you.â
â...Right,â says Leo quietly. âYeah. He wonât.â
Raph breathes shakily, trying to quell the urge to pummel a car parked on the side of the road into scrap metal. âListen, weâre on our way back right now, okay? Just give us-â
âYou got the groceries already?â Leo interrupts. He sounds so fragile.
Again, Raph looks helplessly at Splinter. This time, Splinter steps in.
âWeâre getting them right now, Blue. Then weâll be on our way back.â
â...Yeah. Cool. Good.â Leo clears his throat again. âThen⌠see you guys in a few?â
â...Yeah,â says Raph, at a loss. âA few.â
âOkay. Well. Bye.â
He hangs up. Raph doesnât move the phone, staring at it long after the screen goes dark and Leoâs smiling face disappears.
âPops, weâre not really going back for the food, are we?â
âHeâll be upset if we come back without it.â
Raph knows heâs right. He knows that. But everything in his body is screaming to get back to Leo right now, not to leave him alone for another second.
âWe canât all run off and leave him again,â he says.
âYes,â agrees Splinter. âYou are right.â
Raph nods. Then, even though it tears him apart, he turns around and starts walking back to the grocery store. He hopes no one spotted their bags and took them, or theyâll have to start over. Theyâll have to leave Leo alone even longer.
âHe hated being alone as a kid,â he says.
âI know,â says his dad.
âWe shouldnât have left him today. I knew it.â
âYes. You were right.â
Raph feels a little mad at Splinter then, that he didnât think through the consequences. Splinter said this isnât on Raph alone, but if heâs the only one thinking about the wellbeing of his brothersâŚ
His brothers.
He puts Splinter down, then unlocks his phone again. âIâm gonna call the other guys. They probably felt that, too.â
âA good idea,â says Splinter. Raph nods at the approval, then clicks Donnieâs contact.
Thankfully for Raphâs anxiety, he answers on the second ring. âHello you are now conversing with Donatello,â he says in a rush, following up with, âWhat happened to Leo!? Are you home!?â
âNo, but I talked to him,â Raph reassures him quickly. âHe says he and Barry got in a fight.â
âA fight!?â Donnie echoes. âAha! I knew heâd turn back to supervillainy one day! You owe me twenty bucks!â A pause, and then Donnie says, âWait, is Leo okay!?â
âNo,â says Raph honestly, âbut I think itâs just a normal sort of bad. It wasnât that kinda fight.â
âAh. An emotional fightâŚâ Donnie sighs. âBut it was bound to happen, I suppose.â
ââŚYeah,â Raph agrees, even though he thinks there must have been something they could have done to prevent it. He thinks about the chips again. He doesnât know what the right thing was, still. âYou felt it, right?â
âYes. It wasnât as strong as the first time, though.â
âWhat about Mikey, did he feel it, too?â
âProbably.â
Raph frowns. âYou donât know?â
âI am not Micheal.â
ââŚSo can you ask?â
âI suppose I can text him for you.â
Raph nearly drops the phone. Then he glances down at Splinter, looking for any hint that heâs listening into Donnieâs half of the conversation.
âWhy donât you ask him, since he is right there with you where he is supposed to be!?â
âH-huh? Oh. Oh, yes!â Donnie chuckles nervously. âThe buddy system, where he is my buddy, and stays in the same place as me and doesnât go anywhere else.â
âRight,â hisses Raph. âThat buddy system.â
âYes! Well. He iiiisâŚnât with me, but! He is. Here. On the other side of the junkyard!â
Raph rubs the bridge of his nose. âWell, tell him to get back from the other side of the junkyard right now so he can be with his buddy!â
âYes, I will do that. Right now. And then weâll be together because weâre in the same place, haha, but Iâm so very busy right now goodbye Raphala!â
He hangs up the phone. Raph scowls at it.
âIs everything alright?â asks Splinter, and Raph wants to rat them out, just for a moment, but he ainât a snitch. Even when he thinks his brothers are being unbelievably stupid.
âEverythingâs fine, Pops,â he says, quickly opening his text thread with Mikey.
boy you better get your butt back to D right now or so help me you will NOT like what comes next
Then he gives Splinter a strained smile and repeats, âEverythingâs fine! Letâs get those groceries!â
-----
When Draxum comes back, heâs carrying a plastic baggy, a bottle of Gatorade, and a whiteboard under his arm. He requests permission to sit on Leoâs bed, and Leo nods reluctantly.
He sets the whiteboard to the side, then opens the Gatorade and passes it to Leo. Then he opens the plastic baggy and holds that out, too.
Thereâs crackers in the bag. Leo takes them, a little stunned.
âI can eat these?â he asks.
âTheyâll help settle your stomach,â says Draxum. âItâs not good for you to eat too much, but itâs also not good for your stomach to sit empty.â
Leo cautiously takes one of the crackers out, watching Draxum as he does. When no hand reaches to stop him, he takes a bite, chewing slow. He still feels a little nauseous, but the familiar texture and taste of the cracker soothes him somehow.
âGood,â says Draxum, propping the whiteboard on his knees and popping the cap off a marker. âTake sips of the drink, too. You need the electrolytes.â
Leo does as heâs told, alternating bites of the cracker with sips of the Gatorade. His stomach slowly unknots, and the tension in his shoulders relaxes.
He wasnât expecting a snack, but Draxum brought him one.
On the board, Draxum has written the days of the week, and drawn out a grid underneath them. Leo eats his snack and watches as Draxum fills each square on the grid with a number.
âWhereâd you even get that?â he asks after a minute.
âI borrowed it from Donatelloâs lab.â
Leo whistles. âWithout asking?â
âI donât think he will mind.â
âWhatever helps you sleep at night.â Leo points at the numbers. They arenât times, or prices, so⌠âWhat are these?â
Draxum lowers the board, turning to look at Leo. âDo you know what refeeding syndrome is?â
ââŚShould I?â
Draxum shakes his head. âNo, thereâs no reason for you to have known. I should have explained this sooner, but it didnât feel necessary. âŚAnd I thought it might scare you.â
âScare me?â Leo repeats. Heâs not sure what could be even more scary than the fear he feels all the time now.
âI am not telling you this to scare you,â Draxum stresses. âI am telling you this so you understand what is happening now.â
Leo slowly nods.
âRight. So, do you know that when a person is starving, their body changes how it processes nutrients?â
âYeah, itâs like, starvation mode.â
âIf you must call it that,â says Draxum with a nod. âThe body stops relying on carbs and glucose and uses fatty acids instead. This helps preserve the muscles, but causes a severe depletion in intracellular minerals.â
That sounded like a Donnie-level infodump to Leo. He stares at Draxum blankly. âCan you say that again, en Ingles por favor?â
Draxum actually makes a noise that could almost be a laugh. âAlright, think of it this way: a painter wants to use purple, but their purple paints are running low. So they start using red and blue mixed together, which solves the problem of preserving the purple paint, at the cost of running low on red and blue.â
Leo raises his eye ridges. âIs this how you explain stuff to Mikey?â
Draxum shrugs. âHe understands art metaphors.â
Leo settles back a little more comfortably on his bed. He munches on a cracker. âItâs fine for today. Think of a comic book metaphor for next time.â
Draxum gives a long suffering sigh and says, âFine. But do you understand now?â
âYeah, I think so.â
âGood. So when a person eats again after a long term starvation event, their body wonât start relying on glucose again right away. Itâs still in âstarvation mode,â as you called it, and switching isnât easy. The painter buys a new purple paint, but the color is different enough that they will have to use more red and blue to blend the two together.â
âIâm starting to lose track of the art metaphor here. We added purple, but weâre still low on red and blue, right?â
âYes, precisely. Your body is low on critical minerals, and those need to be replenished at the same time it is given more carbs to convert to glucose.â
âBut I still donât understand why that means I have to eat less,â says Leo.
âDigestion itself takes energy,â says Draxum. âAnd the body isnât using the tools itâs being given properly yet. So it is using more and more minerals without replacing any. The imbalance leads to stress on the body, which has negative downstream effects.â
âSo, TLDR, if I eat too much right now, my body canât handle it and Iâll get sick.â
âI have no idea what TLDR means, but yes, simply put.â
Leo looks at the cracker in his hand thoughtfully. âSo all the times Iâve puked are refeeding syndrome?â
âNo,â says Draxum with a shake of his head. âThat is because your stomach has shrunk, and youâve overstuffed it.â A pause, then Draxum adds, âThough I believe what just happened was a stress response.â
âIâm not stressed,â says Leo. The look Draxum gives him is not convinced. âSooo then what is refeeding syndrome if itâs not barfing?â
âThe lack of minerals causes severe stress on all parts of the body, especially the organs. This can lead to a number of disorders⌠including organ failure.â Draxum pauses, like he doesnât want to say more, but he still adds, âIn extreme cases, it can lead to heart failure.â
The cracker Leo is holding slips through his fingers. He feels his pulse speed up, something cold and terrible sliding through him.
âIf I eat too much my heart could stop?â he asks, and his voice is small.
âIn extreme cases,â Draxum repeats. âIf you began showing symptoms, we would take you to a hospital. Even in the Hidden City there is no mystic cure-all for this, but they could at least reduce the stress on your organs.â
Leo shakes his head. His hands are trembling. The words feel like theyâre coming to him through thousands of feet of water.
âWhy didnât you tell me this sooner?â
âI did not want to scare you,â Draxum says again. âAnd I did not think it was necessary. Refeeding syndrome is entirely preventable, if precautions are taken.â
It barely penetrates. All Leo wants is food. All he wants is to eat. But now food somehow feels like the enemy. He suddenly queasy again. Should he even be eating these crackers? What is safe? What isnât?
âIs this forever?â he manages to ask.Â
He doesnât know how to take it, if it is.
âNo,â says Draxum quickly. He raises his hand and reaches toward Leo, but Leo flinches. Draxum lets it drop again. ââŚNo, Leonardo, it is not forever,â he says, and his voice is more soft than Leo has ever heard it - more soft than he thought Draxum capable of. âThe most critical time for refeeding is the first five to seven days. You are almost clear of the danger zone now. And your enhanced biology may even mean weâre already past it⌠though I am still being cautious.â
Leo lets out a breath. So itâs not forever - it may even be over. It doesnât calm the racing of his heart (at least he knows it hasnât stopped, ha ha), but it does make him feel like he can pick up the cracker again.
âThen what happens once weâre past it?â
âThat is what this is for.â Draxum lifts the whiteboard again, perching it on his knees. âEven once youâre out of danger of refeeding syndrome, weâll still need to build your daily food intake up gradually, until you can eat like you once did. These,â he taps the board with the marker, âare my calorie goals for each meal and snack. As you can see, every day it goes up.â
Leo looks over the counts. They donât really mean anything to him, but he can at least see how the number increases across the seven days on the board. âHow many calories is normal?â
âBased on calculations I have done, going off what I have seen you boys eat as well as my own estimates for your growth, you and Donatello eat roughly five thousand calories a day, sometimes going as high as six thousand when you are particularly active.â Draxum scribbles the number in the corner of the whiteboard. âItâs high compared to humans, but within perfectly healthy limits given your mutant biology and high metabolism. Raphael eats more, and Michelangelo eats a bit less, though not by much.â
âYeah,â Leo gives a chuckle, âkid can put away a whole large pizza by himself when his blood sugarâs low.â
âUnfortunately, I have seen him do it.â Draxum sighs. âBut right now, you are averaging much less.â He taps the numbers. âOur goal right now is to get to where you are eating around twenty two hundred calories a day steadily, without getting sick.â
Leo has never been the math guy, but even he can handle some simple division. âLess than half? Seriously?â
âYes, seriously. That is why ensuring that your meals are as nutritious as possible is important.â He nods at the pill organizer. âAnd why the vitamins are important.â
Less than half as much as he used to eat⌠It leaves Leo feeling a little dizzy again. Nine days without food wrecked his system this hard?
âDonât panic,â says Draxum in that soft voice again, and Leo feels a little resentment for how it pulls him out of his ensuing spiral. âYou can see that your counts are going up steadily, and as we reintroduce solid food it will get even easier. And this is not hard and fast. Going a little above this is not an issue. And I am constantly readjusting as we go. It will take time before you are⌠putting away entire pizzas.â Draxum scrunches up his face in distaste. âBut in a few weeks, you will be eating a much more normal diet than you are now.â
Leo rubs his hand up and down his arm. âNormal like, I can eat potato chips without getting yelled at?â
Draxum sighs. âIâm sorry. I shouldnât have yelled at you to begin with.â
âYeah, wellâŚâ Leo fishes his last cracker out of the bag and rubs it between his fingers. âI gave you a black eye, so I think weâre even.â
âHmph.â Draxum almost sounds amused, though he doesnât let his lips quirk up even a tiny bit. Leo thinks he might be allergic to smiles, unless heâs doing something evil. âStill, I hope you understand the situation now.â
âYeah, I guess.â Leo takes a small bite of the last cracker. Takes his time chewing and swallowing it. âThe main thing is youâre going to keep being a pain in the butt for the next few weeks, right?â
âYes, youâre stuck with me.â Draxum watches him take another bite of cracker, then says, âThereâs something else you need to understand, Leonardo. The goal of this,â he taps the whiteboard, âis to keep you from getting sick. It is not to keep you hungry.â
Leo stares at the board, and the calorie counts, all laid out neatly. âSure,â he says, and he doesnât feel it.
Draxum hesitates, then taps each row, reading off, âBreakfast, lunch, snack, dinner, snack. Smaller amounts of food more frequently, to keep your stomach full without overstuffing.â
âMakes sense, I guess.â
âAnd this can be moved around. If you eat breakfast earlier than normal, you can have a snack in the morning instead. But you tend to sleep in, which is why I structured it this way.â
âNineâs not sleeping in,â Leo grumbles.
âNine is- no, this is not the point.â Draxum gives his head a shake. âThe point is, if you want to move your eating times around, we can. The goal of this is to keep you from getting sick. It is not to keep you hungry.â
âI heard you the first time.â
âNo, Iâm not sure you did.â Draxum again uncaps the marker, then writes across the top of the board five simple words:
If you are hungry: eat.
Leo stares at those words. It feels like a trap, a trick - Draxumâs being all nice right now, but the way he ripped the bag from Leoâs handsâŚ
âI was hungry when I ate the chips,â he says, and itâs a little bit of a lie, but thatâs not the point. He watches Draxum carefully, for any sign that this is all fake, and Draxum really does want him to suffer.
Draxumâs brows furrow. âYou are not in trouble for eating,â he says. âYouâll never be in trouble for eating. It is just good for you right now to eat healthy things.Â
âI know it isnât fair,â he adds, voice blunt, âbut life rarely is.â
Leo studies his face. And the amazing thing is, he doesnât think Draxum is lying.
âSo⌠if I want a late night snack, I can eat some crackers?â he asks, waving the empty baggie.
âYes. Or a banana, or some yogurt⌠If you feel very hungry, you could even eat some egg, or leftover soup.â
âAnd youâre fine with me just eating⌠whenever?â
âIf you are so hungry you need to eat an extra meal, I just ask that you let me know, so I can adjust.â He taps the board. âBut yes, I am. You know the stakes now. I trust you.â
Trust. Leoâs never had much of that from anyone. He looks down at the empty bag and wonders if itâs really true.
ââŚIs there anything you need right now?â Leo lifts his eyes back to Draxumâs face. âI can get it for you.â
Leo thinks about it. âWhen did you say lunch is?â
âAbout an hour and twenty minutes, now.â
âThen⌠Iâm fine.â Leo pushes himself further back on his bed, dropping his trash into the space between them.
âHm. I will bring you some more juice to drink.â Draxum nods at the pill organizer. âYou still need to take those.â
Leo shoos him off. âI will, sheesh.â Now that he knows how important it is.
Draxum rolls his eyes and gets up. He takes the trash, but leaves the white board propped against the wall at the foot of Leoâs bed.
Heâs almost to the door when Leo clears his throat and says, âHey Barry?â
Draxum pauses, hand grasping the curtain. âYes?â
âAny chance we can skip telling my dad and brothers about⌠everything?â
Draxum looks back at him. âTrust me when I say that I would like to omit this as much as you⌠But I am going to have to tell your father, at least.â
Leo groans, letting his head fall back on his pillows. âThis sucks.â
âThen I will try to think of ways to make it suck less.â Draxum pulls the curtain aside. âRest, Leonardo. Iâll bring your juice.â
Then heâs gone, leaving Leo alone.
-----
Raph puts the groceries down in the kitchen, then looks toward the escalator leading down. He should stay and help put everything away, but all he wants to do right now is rush to Leoâs side.
âGo,â says Splinter beside him. âI can take care of this.â
Thatâs all the permission Raph needs; he takes the escalator steps two at a time and crashes down onto the lower level.
Draxum is there, standing outside Leoâs train car and looking at one of his notebooks again. When he hears Raph, he closes it and looks up.
Raphâs eyes catch on the bruise forming on Draxumâs cheek and eye - itâs just starting to darken, but Raph can tell itâs going to be a plum shade of purple by the end of the day.
âHe told me it wasnât physical,â says Raph immediately. A little dangerously.
âIt wasnât, on my end,â says Draxum.
Raph finds that he believes that, and he canât help the way his lips quirk up at the news.
Draxum scowls. âYes, yes, very funny.â
Raph claps him on the shoulder. âCome on, Barry. You know you deserved it.â
âWe can debate that later,â says Draxum, dry. He nods at the train car. âHeâs in his room.â
âRaph figured.â He locks eyes on the room, wishing he could see past the curtains to know Leoâs state. âWhen you guys were fighting, he⌠called for us again.â
Draxumâs expression turns more concerned - nearly imperceptibly so, but Raph knows him well enough by now to see it. âYes, I know.â
âYou felt it?â
âNo.â Draxum pulls away. âI have things to discuss with Lou Jitsu. Is he in the kitchen?â
âYeah.â Raph wants to know what Draxum saw, but he always wants to get to Leo as fast as possible. In the end, the draw to his brother is stronger, and he steps forward. âHelp him put the groceries up.â
âIf I must,â says Draxum, and then he walks away toward the escalator. Raph doesnât hang around to watch, instead hurrying to Leoâs room.
The room is a mess, even more than normally. His action figures are scattered everywhere, comic books have been knocked from the shelves, his blankets are on the floor. Leo himself is in bed, vacant expression staring at nothing Raph can see, and itâs an eerie way to see his little brother, usually never without his phone or a comic book in his quiet moments.Â
He clears his throat, and Leoâs eyes flick his way. âHey, Leo.â
âHey.â Leo rouses himself to alertness, like heâd been sleeping with his eyes open. He shifts on his pillows so he can better see Raph. âYou guys got the groceries?â
âYeah, we did,â he assures Leo. He walks in, standing over Leoâs bed. Heâd been so anxious to get back here, but now he finds himself trapped in the same place as always, unsure what to say or do.
Leo stares up at him. ââŚEverything okay, hermano?â
âI came to ask you that.â Raph sits down on the edge of the bed, then startles when something hard falls against his arm. He looks and finds a whiteboard, with numbers that make no sense to him written in neat columns (not Leoâs handwriting), and, across the top:
If you are hungry: eat.
Raph canât help but stare at those words a few seconds longer. Is this something Leo needed to be told?
Beside him, Leo is saying, âMe and Drax got in a fight, but we worked it out. Itâs fine.â
âYeah.â Raph grins, tearing his eyes away from the whiteboard to look at Leo. âI saw the shiner you gave him.â
Heâs expecting a grin back; for Leoâs expression to turn mischievous, or cocky. For Leo to proudly take credit for punching Draxum right in the eye.
Heâs not expecting Leo to flinch and look away. âI thought he was better at dodging than that,â he says.
Raph falters, not sure how to respond. He knows Leo; his little brother would never hit anyone for no reason, even someone like Baron Draxum. Leo might playfight, Leo might even throw things at them from time to time, but he never aimed to hurt, only to irritate.Â
Once again, Raph doesnât know the right way to approach this situation. Should he try to talk to Leo about this? Is he the right person to try? Would Leo even want to hear it from Raph, who so often struggles with his own anger responses?
(He thinks about the fight again, and feels a rush of shame.)
Heâs still trying to work it out when Leo changes the subject.
âWhy didnât you tell him?â Leo picks at some fuzz on his sheets. âAbout the chips.â
Thatâs something else Raph has been trying to figure out. But now, for this question at least, he has an answer.
âThey didnât have anyoneâs name on âem.â
Leoâs fingers pause. âBut you know Iâm not supposed to eat those.â
âYeah, well⌠I still wasnât gonna tell. Raphâs not a snitch.â He shrugs. âLook, I know Barryâs right and you gotta be careful about what you eat so you donât get sick. But this is still your house, Leo. We agreed a long time ago that unless food has someoneâs name on it, itâs fair game.â
Leo actually smiles just a little at that, and Raph feels his heart leap at the sight. Itâs not quite a full, big Leo smile, but itâs something. âAnd sometimes the name doesnât stop us.â
Raph laughs. âThatâs just because I got three little brothers who are a pain in the shell.â He reaches out to rub Leoâs head, and is a little surprised and a lot pleased when Leo doesnât duck it.Â
(It wraps around to concern again, when Leo seems to chase the touch like heâll drown without it.)
âListen,â he says, âDraxum gives you any more trouble and you just come tell me, okay? Iâll deal with it. Weâll get it worked out.â He moves his hand down to scratch the ridge of Leoâs shell, right where he canât easily reach himself. âRaphâs got your back.â
Leo goes tense under his fingers, and Raph thinks heâs said something wrong. But the soft little, âOh,â Leo says after isnât upset. Itâs just⌠surprised.
But why would he be surprised by that?
But when Raph thinks about it⌠whenâs the last time he told Leo that? Whenâs the last time he felt like Leo had his back, too?
Somewhere along the way, he and Leo lost what made them them. Best friends, friendly rivals, brothers through thick and thin. It all got swallowed up by their fights and disagreements. And then Leo was taken from him.
But Leo isnât gone. Leo is right here.
And suddenly Raph doesnât know how heâs made it this long without hugging his little brother. He should have already. That should have been the first thing.
He moves the hand thatâs scratching Leoâs shell to more firmly grab his back, watching close to see Leoâs reaction. Leoâs eyes flutter closed, like he feels totally safe, and Raph doesnât waste the trust thatâs been given to him.
He lifts Leo up and pulls him into his lap, wrapping his arms around in the safest bear hug he can give. Leo melts into it, his head leaning against Raphâs plastron, his arm coming up to loosely hook itself around Raphâs neck.Â
âI gotcha, Leo,â he promises, cradling him close. âI gotcha.â
âI know,â says Leo, but Raph wonders if he really does. Raph hasnât done a great job of showing it.
He still doesnât know his answer. He still feels a stab in his heart when he thinks of Leo saying he did what a hero would. But April was right. Leo doesnât need big emotional confrontations right now. He needs his big brother.
And Raph can do that. Itâs the thing heâs best at.
âHey,â he says, âwanna come watch Jupiter Jim: Venture to Venus with me?â
Leo opens his eyes to squint up at him. âDeeâll hate it if he misses the sing-along parts,â he says, but now, finally, a little bit of his mischievousness is back.
Raph grins. âWhat Donnie doesnât know wonât hurt him.â
Leo laughs then, small and tired and hoarse but there. Raph gives him another squeeze, then stands up and takes Leo with him.
Heâs still unsettlingly light, like he was when Raph lifted him from the cot. But thereâs a little more of him back.
If they get a little more of him every day, eventually, his little brother will truly be home.
-----
Leo stays in his lap for the movie. He makes no attempt to leave and Raph makes no attempt to remove him.
Splinter brings them lunch around the halfway mark: the alphabet soup they bought at the store for Leo, with bread and more banana for after. Leo complains that heâs not a little kid, but out of the corner of his eye Raph catches him industriously fishing around for the letters L, E, and O. He gets a little, self-satisfied smile on his face at his accomplishment, and Raph has to force his eyes to focus on the screen before he squishes Leo like one of his teddy bears.
After lunch, Leo dozes off. Itâs not a surprise, especially given how eventful the morning was. Raphâs just glad itâs actual sleep and not that scary, blank-eyed stare he saw Leo with earlier.
Raph stays there after his arms fall asleep, after the movie ends, after he hears Donnie and Mikey come home (together, at least). Heâd stay there all night, but Splinter comes in and puts a hand on his arm. Heâs carrying a plate with a snack for Leo.
âDraxum wants to talk to you and Purple and Orange.â
Raph looks at Leo, still curled up against him, and shakes his head. âI donât wanna leave him.â
âItâs alright. I will be here with him.â Splinter pats his arm again. âTake a break and stretch. You can sit with him after youâre done.â
Reluctantly, Raph gets up. He shifts Leo to the chair as carefully as he can (Leo murmurs in his sleep but doesnât wake), then looks back at Splinter.
âYouâll be here when he wakes up, right?â he asks again.
(Maybe heâs still a little mad.)
âYes,â Splinter promises. âIâll be here.â
So Raph leaves. He shakes out his arms and legs, stiff from holding Leo, then swings by the bathroom before making his way to the kitchen. He can hear Mikey there already.
â-tell us what happened,â Mikey is saying, standing with his arms crossed and face angry. This is the most frustrated Raph can remember seeing Mikey act toward Draxum. Beside him, Donnie looks equally agitated.
âI have told your father what happened,â says Draxum, looking much more calm by comparison, âand we have agreed to maintain Leonardoâs privacy for now.â
âIs it about Leoâs privacy or do you think we just donât deserve to know?â Mikey snaps. Raph knows that tone, and he knows this is about to turn into a fight.
He steps into the middle before it can. âHold up, Mikey. Letâs hear him out.â His little brother does not seem happy with that, and he opens his mouth to argue, but before he can Raph refocuses on Draxum. âTell us whatâs goinâ on, Barry.â
Draxumâs eyes move slowly between all three of them before landing on Raph. âAs I was telling your brothers, Lou Jitsu and I have agreed not to tell you all the details of what happened earlier, primarily because we are not sure how much Leonardo himself is comfortable with you knowing.â
It stings, but Raph knows heâs right. Itâs like the security tapes Donnie chose not to watch. They have to let Leo decide how much they know and how much they donât.
Still, Raph has his concerns. He folds his arms, mimicking his brothers behind him, and stares Draxum down. âAlright,â he says, and ignores the indignant noise Mikey makes behind him, âbut did you tell Pops everything?â
âYes.â
âEverything?â
âYes,â Draxum repeats. âHe needs to know, so we know how to care for Leonardo going forward.â
Raph isnât as good at reading people as Leo, but itâs not like Draxum is an enigma, either. He doesnât think the old goat is lying, so Raph relaxes his posture.
âOkay,â he says. âAs long as Dad knows.â
âHe did something so bad Leo punched him!â Mikey argues. âLeo doesnât just do that!â
âIn his defense,â says Donnie, âDraxumâs face is very punchable.â
Raph snorts at the indignant look Draxum gives that remark.
âHonestly,â says Draxum with a sigh, âall four of you boys are the same⌠But I can tell you that much.â He looks down, not meeting their eyes now. âI took food from your brotherâs hands, before I realized what an error that is.â
All of them stiffen. Behind him, Raph senses Donnie shifting his weight in agitation.Â
âYou took food from him!?â cries Mikey. He sounds so betrayed. âWhy!?â
âI was worried about him making himself sick,â Draxum explains. âBut I did not handle it well. I have already apologized to him.â
âYou better have!â Ah, thereâs Doctor Delicate Touch.
âI have,â Draxum repeats. âAnd we have reached an understanding⌠which is what I need to talk to the three of you about.â He looks at them now. âThere are going to be some new rules around here, at least for the duration of Leonardoâs recovery.â
âWhat rules?â asks Raph. âBesides donât yank food out of Leoâs hands?â
âWell, that is an important one.â Draxum nods. âBut we have also decided to adhere to a more strict meal schedule than you do normally. If meals are coming at regular, predictable times, we think this will reduce a lot of stress for Leonardo.â
Raph thinks of the words on the whiteboard. Of the neat rows of numbers. Does Leo wonder when heâll be fed next? Does it scare him, not knowing?
Doesnât he know his family would never let him go hungry?
âIt makes sense,â says Donnie behind him. âWe usually eat whenever we feel like it, but if Leo has to be careful with his diet, having a routine will make it easier.â
If Donnie thinks so, itâs probably right. Raph nods. âYeah, sure. Whatever we gotta do to help Leo.â
Draxum nods back. âRight now, weâre planning for breakfast at eight, or whenever he wakes up, lunch at noon, and dinner at six. Leo will get regular snacks as well; smaller, more frequent meals are better for him right now than three large ones. Of course, the three of you can still do what you feel like; if you want your own snack, or want to eat later, you can.â
âLetâs all try to eat with Leo,â says Raph, looking back at his brothers. Donnie nods immediately; Mikey hesitates.
âWill Leo be in trouble,â he asks, âif he eats snacks when you didnât tell him to?â
âNo,â says Draxum. âI have already told him this. If heâs hungry, he can eat; he doesnât need anyone to tell him he can.â
Raphâs glad to hear that; he knows he wouldnât have been able to play food police. Mikey seems to calm down at this reassurance, too, and he nods.
âOkay. Then, weâre starting tonight? Dinner at six?â
âYes.â Draxum seems relieved, that Mikey doesnât look so angry anymore. âYou can help me, if you want.â
âDuh,â says Mikey, and Draxum cringes. âIâll be here!â
He and Donnie leave then; Donnie says heâs going to finish Leoâs curtains, and Mikey goes to his room. Raph hangs back, watching Draxum.
âYou sure you didnât touch him?â he asks, once heâs sure his brothers are out of earshot.
Draxum looks at him, open, not hiding. âI did not. I acted rashly, but I would not lay a hand on him.â
ââŚOkay. I believe you.â Raph folds his arms. âBut if Leo ever tells me anything different, you know what happens next, right?â
âI do. But I would not hurt him.â Draxum looks nonchalant, despite the conversation. âDespite my best efforts, Iâve grown fond of all of you. Iâm here to help him.â
Raph canât help but smile at that. Itâs probably as close as Barry will ever get to being affectionate.
âThanks, then. For all youâre doinâ.â Raph turns to leave. âBut donât yank food out of his hands again.â
âI wonât. You have my word.â
Raph decides to take it.
-----
âBlueâŚ? Are you awake?â
Leo blinks his eyes open to find Splinter peering down at him, a plate in his hand. Blearily, he sits up in the recliner. It takes him a moment to realize heâs by himself now - Raph has gone.
It makes him feel a little sad. He knows Raph still has something he wants to yell about, but there for a short while, it was really nice to just be his little brother.
Now his dad is here, with food. Leo remembers the chart Draxum gave him - breakfast, lunch, snack, dinner, snack - and feels his heart relax.
âHey, Dad. Yeah, Iâm awake.â
âVery good. I have brought you some more yogurt and fruit.â
âYippee,â says Leo, tone flat. âIâm gonna be the most regular guy on the planet after this.â
Splinter laughs at that, and it makes Leo feel a little sense of triumph. âCherish it while youâre young.â
âEw, gross,â he says, and Splinter laughs again.
Leo eats his snack. The projector skips on the screen, still on but with nothing set to play. Splinter settles in on the arm of the chair and waits until Leoâs almost done.
Then he says, âDraxum told me what happened earlier.â
Leo goes stiff. He swallows his bite of banana around the knot in his throat.Â
âYeah, he⌠said he was going to tell you.â
âIâm sorry that he was so harsh with you. You are not in trouble for taking the chips. The food in this lair is as much yours as it is any of ours.â
âI know,â says Leo, even though heâs not sure of anything anymore. But itâs what Splinter wants to hear.
âI wonât be leaving you alone with him again.â Splinter pats his arm. âHe may be reformed, but he is still stupid, and not at all fit to take care of children!â
âWhich is what makes him perfect for a public school lunchroom,â says Leo, and grins when it gets another laugh out of his dad.
Leo finishes his snack. The projector is still skipping. It makes a little clicking noise every few seconds.
â...Leonardo,â says Splinter, and Leo tenses up again.
âOh no, full nameâŚâ
âYou are not in trouble,â says Splinter again. Leo wonders why he keeps saying that. âBut I have to ask you this again. When you were⌠with the EPF. Did anyone touch you in any way?â
Leo stares at him. Why are they having this conversation again?
âNo. I told you that, remember?â
âI remember. But I have to make sure.â Splinter puts his hand on Leoâs. Leo stares at it. âDid anyone⌠make you do something you didnât want to do?â
âUh⌠besides stay there?â
âLeonardo.â Splinterâs tone is not angry, but Leo still winces. âI understand that this is uncomfortable to talk about. But I need to know for your safety. Did any of them do anything to you? Or make you do something to them? To yourself?â
Leo stares at his dadâs hand. He thinks of getting down on his knees and begging.
â...No.â He gives his head a shake. âThey didnât even hit me or anything.â And itâs the truth.
They didnât really do anything to him at all.
â...Alright.â Splinter leans over and presses a kiss to the top of Leoâs head. Leo keeps his eyes on their hands and listens to the skip of the projector. âThank you for telling me.â
âYeah. Sure.â He hands the empty plate over and sinks further into the recliner cushions. He wishes the conversation hadnât curdled the snack in his guts. âUh, can we⌠turn on something so the projector isnât making that sound?â
âOh, yes!â Splinter sets the plate aside, then grabs for the remote. âIt is aaalmost time for Scorpion Treadmill!â
Leo snorts despite himself. âSure, sounds great.â
Splinter finds the channel and settles into the chair next to Leo. Leo closes his eyes and listens to the Japanese he can barely understand and his dadâs laughter, and tries to ignore the way his own skin feels slimy.
-----
After dinner, and after his snack, Donnie shows him the new curtains.
The new rods are just as makeshift as the ones from the day before, with the same color and the same details. Leo loves them. He tells Donnie so, and Donnie grins big and happy, and Leo feels happy, too, that he can still make at least one brother look like that.
âOh, Iâm so glad you like them!â says Donnie, for what must be the fifth time. âBut seriously, if you want me to add some smart tech to them, just say the word.â
âThanks but no thanks, Dee. I donât want my curtains to gain sentience on me.â
Donnie pouts, but itâs good natured. He comes over and sits on the bed next to Leo, the two of them looking around his room. Itâs crazy to Leo, how different it looks now. Though, maybe the mess is contributing to that feelingâŚ
âItâs so dark in here now,â Donnie observes. His tone is totally neutral in a way Donnie could never hope to fake, so Leo doesnât take it as a judgment.
Which is good, because Leo doesnât know how to explain that he likes it that way. That the dark makes him feel calm and safe. Hidden.
âI could always add more lighting,â he says instead. He has his lanterns and a desk lamp, but he has to admit, some things will be harder without the ambient lights from outside.
âOh, I can do that next!â says Donnie. âWhat kind of lighting do you want? I can see what I have in the lab-â
âWhoa, hey,â says Leo quickly. He reaches over and flicks Donnie on his big forehead. (It lacks any force, because Leo is still weak, but Donnie says, âOw!â exaggeratedly anyway.) âI get that youâre trying to help, but youâve done enough. I know you must have some battleshell or robot or nuclear bomb youâre dying to work on instead.â
Donnie falters at that. He eyes Leo, the same way everyone does lately, like heâs some kind of timebomb that might go off.
âI just want you to be comfortable,â he says.
âWhat do you mean? Iâm super comfy!â Leo waves the sleeve of his hoodie in demonstration. âItâs the lair, Don-ton. Same as always.â
Donnieâs expression goes even flatter. He turns his eyes on the train car walls. âSame as always? It hasnât even been a year.â
Leo flinches. Right, well⌠So itâs not the same as ever. But itâs the same as the one he was stolen from, and thatâs all that matters, right?
âYou know what I mean.â He bumps their shoulders together. âItâs home. Itâs where you guys are. Iâm totally fine.â
And he means that.
He means it, he means it, he means it.
â...Right.â Donnie is trying to sound like he believes Leo. âWell, if you change your mind about the lighting, you know where to find me.â
âI sure do, hermano.â He bumps their shoulders again. âThanks, though.â
They sit for a moment in silence. Leo wonders if he should offer a late night movie session, or if he should send Donnie on his way. Heâs torn. He doesnât really want to be alone. But he doesnât want to bother Donnie more than he already has.
Before he can decide, Donnieâs phone dings. He picks it up and clicks something on his screen.
âWhatâs up?â asks Leo.
âOh nothing.â Donnie waves a hand. âDraxum just finally decided to leave. About timeâŚâ
âHuh? How do you⌠knowâŚâ
Leo leans over on his shoulder to look, and answers his own question.
Cameras. Of course Donnie has cameras. This one is outside the entrance to the lair from the sewers, and Leo can see Draxumâs retreating back as he heads for the nearest manhole.
âThe camera alerts me whenever anyone other than one of the five of us leaves,â Donnie is saying. âItâs part of the security upgrades Iâve been working on.â
âSecurity upgrades,â Leo repeats, feeling a little faint.
Donnie doesnât notice, jumping on the chance to infodump. âYes! Iâve added more cameras, and proximity alarms, and Iâve been working on more upgrades to our trackers, like I told you. Oh, and new security measures for my baby, of course. And once Shelldonâs new body is complete, Iâll integrate him with the system as well, andâŚâ
Donnieâs still talking, but Leo canât hear it. His eyes are tracking all around his train car - the dark corners, the shelves, the nooks and crannies.
Donnie has cameras all over the lair.
Where are the cameras in here?
-----
For another night in a row, Leo doesnât sleep.
#rottmnt#room fic#dandy fanfiction#rise leo#rise raph#rise donnie#rise mikey#rise splinter#cw food issues#cw vomiting
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⣠Love's Punishment đď¸
âŁđď¸ A/N â If y'all knew how many times I deleted and restarted this entire thing... I don't even remember how I got this idea, I just remember wanting to write an obsession/love spell fic where some male superheroes go batshit crazy & horny over the reader. Either way, hope you all enjoy it. WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI | OMEGAVERSE | Canon-Typical Violence | Alpha Barry Allen/Flash | Alpha Hal Jordan/Green Lantern | Alpha Clark Kent/Superman | Demigod-Omega Male Reader | Obsessive Behavior/Actions | Attempted Non-Con | Dub-Con | Oral Play | Knotting | Bonding Marks | Sneaky & Meddlesome Gods & Goddesses |
Prompts Used: @rednsuch â #39 âJust the smell of you gets me excited, darling.â â #13 âStop being such a brat.â
âŁđď¸ Summary â One may ask what it's like having a God or Goddess for a parent. Honestly, not fun, and Y/N is a perfect example of that considering how he's being punished by his mother. How do you even bring up this level of mommy issues in therapy?
âŁđď¸ Word Count â 6.2K
REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! ���
⣠ENJOY đď¸
Daddy issues this, and Daddy issues that.
What about the people who have mommy issues? Because they exist, and Y/N would be shocked if anyone elseâs relationship challenges with their mother were similar to his own.
Truthfully, he would never understand or believe the idea that someone could have sex and procreate with a god or goddess and not have one clue. There was no divine light following behind them? No wisps of magic or sparkles. No flowers and bright auras left in their footpaths?
Nothing, not a single clue?
Bullshit.
You may ask yourself, âY/N, whatever could be wrong with someone having adult fun and having children with a god or goddess?â
Lots of things, actually. There could be an encyclopedia on why that could be a bad idea with lots of consequences to follow. Too many to get into right at this moment considering he was busy trying to cover his head and face from getting blasted while hanging off a superheroâs shoulders like a sack of potatoes.
Getting punished by a god or goddess was not for the weak.
No kid liked getting in trouble and punished by their parents. It was a very unpleasant and frustrating feeling when you had to answer for something you either 100% did without thinking of the circumstances, or something that happened and you were the victim of said circumstances.
But imagine getting punished by your God or Goddess parent for something that you had no control over. Even more, something said parent was directly responsible for!
The hypocrisy of it all.
Y/Nâs father was a handsome man. Their genes were always divinely blessed, the Alpha always liked to joke, and the young Omega didnât realize the irony of that statement until he got older and started questioning things.
Whenever he thought about changing his appearance or switching something up, it happened immediately without any action or movement from him. At one point during some teenage life crisis, he wanted to go blonde but didnât even need to purchase dye. One moment heâs looking at his natural hair color and looks down to grab his comb. Next thing he knows, heâs got a full head of blond hair in the exact style he imagined. And it looked goood.
There was another time when he wished in his head that the sweater he was eyeing while shopping was gray instead of red, but according to the store, they never produced that particular color. When he went to go look at other options, imagine his surprise when he turned back two minutes later and it seemed as if the store did indeed have gray. And from a closer look, they only had gray. Starting to see the point?
Y/N could read people like a book, especially pertaining to feelings of affection, desire, and jealousy. Imagine the ability to feel someoneâs very adult-like feelings, and you hadnât even hit puberty yet. His dad had to have the birds and the bees talk with him much earlier than planned.
One of the most concerning things was Y/N's naturally attractive aura and charming voice. Though, he couldnât tell if it was his voice or just the words he spoke that were attractive. But, people seemed to flock to him like moths to a flame. Even at a young age, many fought for his attention, whether it was classmates, friends, family, or strangers heâd run into when out with his dad.
It was normal for an Omega to be highly desired and sought after by Alphas, but it wasnât just them fighting for his attention. Y/N had Betas and Omegas alike competing with each other for the chance to get acquainted with him.
By the time he entered high school, on record, he had up to four secret admirers (and two stalkers), and when things only seemed to get more out of control, thatâs when his dad finally decided to sit him down and explain the truth to him.
âSo, yeah. Probably should have told you this when you were younger, but your momâs Aphrodite.â
âŚ
Not joking, he 100% said it just like that.
Of course, you can imagine the Omegaâs confusion and somewhat anger that this information had been withheld for most of his life. Now, not only did Y/N have to deal with the everyday struggles of life and being an Omega, but he also had to balance being the demigod son to the Goddess of Beauty, Love, and Desire. When you think about it, it made the Omega thing 10x more stressful than it already was.
This was the type of shit people wrote and fantasized about.
Wait a secâŚ
âŚ
Nah.
Now, back to the beginning, since we have some more context, what was this so-called punishment, and why did it have Y/N grumbling about mommy issues while being whisked around the nationâs capital as some superheroes had it out with each other over who got to claim his body affection?
Oh, nothing serious, really. Just mommy dearest trying to interfere with her sonâs love life! Who knew the immortal parents were privy to the same, petty tactics as their mortal counterpartsâŚ
Unlike most others who would be excited at the thought of being the child of Aphrodite, Y/N felt he had an unfair advantage when it came to dating and relationships, given his semi-godly abilities and gifts. After his last relationship ended in a horror show with a sequel he promised would never see production, he swore off dating and romance for good.
Well, that didnât fly too well with Aphrodite. Her children, full-blood and half-blood, were always known for their romantic escapades. One of them was the face of Valentineâs Day! Well, his cousin from Rome was, at least.
So, with the help of her son and Y/Nâs half-brother, Eros, God of Love, Lust, and Sex, (the mentioned Greek cousin to Cupid) they set up a little divine punishment for the young Demigod to teach him a lesson for rejecting his goldy heritage. It also paid off as insurance, just in case.
Deities and their children were always known to be stubborn little beings.
Aphrodite sent Eros down to Earth to follow his half-blood sibling around, observing his actions and who he interacted with. And, for any male Alpha that the Omega came in contact with, the God of Lust was to ensure a connection was established between the two if he deemed them worthy enough.
Simply put, he was to shoot male Alpha he figured his mother would approve as a match for her son/his brother in the ass with a love arrow. Now, why she told him to shoot only male Alphas and not female, youâd have to ask her.
Mother knows best.
Unlucky for Y/N, they chose one of the worst days to do that when he happened to be in Washington, D.C. for a work-related trip.
Do you know what else is in Washington, D.C.? The Justice League headquarters.
But, why would that be a problem? Do you really need an explanation?
Imagine how interesting it would be if, at the same time Y/N happened to be in Washington, D.C., one of the famous Justice League heroes like Flash, Green Lantern, or Superman happened to be there as well. Picture how tempting of an opportunity it would be for Eros after he was told to find the best potential matches for his little brother.
Pretty damn tempting if you ask anyone else.
Now, if weâre being truthful, Superman was Erosâ ideal choice for his brother, knowing their mother would definitely approve of the relationship between her son and the Kryptonian. Even if he wasnât an Alpha due to his alien biology, he still had all the ideal traits of one. Not to mention his strong features and handsome looks.
But, he wasnât opposed to one of the other heroes like Flash or Green Lantern. And when the latter had been the one to save Y/N during some random battle that broke out between the League and some villains, he figured why not just shoot them all and see who came out on top?
Plus, he was the God of Sex just as much as he was of Love. He wanted to see who out of the three heroes had the sexual prowess to handle someone like his brother. Prude or not, being mated to a child of Aphrodite meant you had to be strong in a lot of ways, especially when it came down to the nitty and gritty.
And who said he couldnât get a little entertainment out of this?
That entertainment is what led Y/N to his situation of being carried throughout the city like some prize while the worldâs defenders fought with each other like kids trying to get the last cookie in the jar.
As said, it started with Green Lantern rescuing him and carrying him away to some random rooftop. Everything seemed normal until Y/N noticed a change in the hero and his sudden lustful gazes that were being directed at him. He'd been on the receiving end of a fair amount of adoration and attention by admiring and persistent Alphas, but this he could tell was something different.
And it was.
Eros had shot Green Lantern with the love arrow while they were still in the sky. Now, instead of thinking about the fight he was leaving his comrades to handle by themselves without his assistance, all his thoughts were centered around the Omega in his arms and how blessed he was to be in the presence of such a radiant being.
And how much he couldn't wait to claim his body all for himself. Besides, no one was more fitting or deserving of an Omega of Y/N's stature than the Green Lantern himself. At least, that's what his love-delusioned, and frankly, naturally egotistical mind believed.
Y/N didn't have time to even question what was going on before the green-clad hero had whisked him away to a rooftop, not too far from where the fight was happening. He figured it was over after that and the Alpha would return to his comrades after setting him down.
Imagine the Omega's shock when he found himself pressed against a wall, the hero kissing and nuzzling his neck while running his hands down his body.
"W-What are you doing?" Y/N stuttered out, trying to push the man away but to no avail.
"What does it look like? I'm saving you," The hero's voice was gruff and desperate, and the Omega was starting to get concerned.
"Okay, but this is less saving and more of molesting," Y/N struggled, having his arms pinned against the wall before feeling a hand running down his body towards his pants.
"I'm saving you from other Alphas trying to claim you. After this, you'll belong to me, and me only," Lantern growled gruffly in his ear, an aggressiveness that was all too familiar to the Omega. He'd seen this behavior before but didn't have much time to think about it as the hero started unbuttoning his pants.
"W-Wait! Stop!"
"No, I can't," Lantern shook his head, his eyes glazed over.
"You're under a spell or something!" Y/N tried again, but his words fell on deaf ears.
"I can't stop myself. I need you now," The hero growled, finally pulling the Omega's pants and underwear down before undoing his own and pulling out his throbbing, hard cock.
"No! Stop! You don't want to do this!"
"Stop being such a brat. I need to do this," Lantern's voice was firm and demanding.
Before the green-clad hero could achieve his objective, he was suddenly yanked off the Omega by a red and yellow blur, electricity crackling off it. The Omega after realizing he was free wasted no time in pulling his underwear and pants back up, watching as the blur, now recognized to be Flash, was currently fighting with Green Lantern near the edge of the rooftop.
"What are you doing, man?!" Flash yelled, trying to restrain the other hero.
"Let go of me, I need to save him!" Lantern growled, fighting the speedster's hold.
"From what?" Flash questioned, looking at the Omega confused.
"He's mine!"
"He's not yours!"
"Yes, he is!"
"GL, you need to get a grip."
"He's my Omega! I need to mark him!"
From his position, Y/N could see Flash was struggling to hold the other Alpha down and figured he should probably make his exit right about now. He made his way over to the fire escape, about to climb over until a figure floated up from below.
Superman, ever in his large and slightly intimidating form with his cape blowing in the wind looked down at the Omega with a smile, offering his hand, "Need some help?"
The Omega smiled with a soft blush, trying to quell his nerves at the Alpha's admittedly very handsome and chiseled face. Again, the Omega was no prude, nor was he oblivious to all the gossip and rumors of the world's protectors and their handsome and muscular figures. The latter was made even more prominent by the tight nature of their uniforms.
Y/N would be lying if he said he wasn't looking at Flash's prominent glutes hidden under the red spandex.
But, before the Omega took the Kryptonian's equally large hand, he noticed something in the background. The fight that initially led to this whole mess was still going on. Yet, three of the main superheroes involved in that fight were over here. Flash, he threw to the back of his mind since the speedster did technically save him. But, why was Superman here?
That's when Y/N noticed something in the Kryptonian hero's eyes. An expression almost identical to the one he just saw in Green Lantern.
Uh oh.
Before the Omega could even react, the Alpha had already scooped him up into his arms and flew off into the sky.
"H-Hey! Put me down!" Y/N stuttered, struggling in the Alpha's hold.
"I can't. I need to save you," Superman's voice was low and deep, and the Omega could feel the vibrations from his chest.
Hmm, where had he heard that before?
"Save me from what?"
"Other Alphas trying to claim you," The Kryptonian explained, and Y/N could have sworn he heard a growl in his voice.
A nervous feeling settled into his stomach, and if he wasn't careful, he'd find himself falling prey and submissive to the very situation he was trying to find a way out of. Being Aphrodite's son as mentioned before, he had an extraordinary gift with the power of emotions and desires. He could project his feelings of desire and love onto others, just as much as he could mirror them.
Another one of those aforementioned consequences of deities breeding with mortals.
The only thing Y/N struggled to figure out though was why all of this was happening. He'd never had a run-in with any of these heroes before, and the only time he'd seen behavior like this was when it was related to his...
...Of course.
His mother.
Now, everything was starting to make sense. This could only be the work of mommy dearest, and if Y/N had to guess, his half-brother Eros as well.
He'd have to deal with that problem later, though. Right now, he needed to focus on the task at hand, and that was escaping the arms of a very powerful, very strong, and very horny superhero.
"You're mine. I'll protect you from the others," Superman continued, and Y/N could feel a slight rumble in the Alpha's chest.
"I'm not yours," The Omega shook his head, continuing to struggle.
"Yes, you are. You're mine," The Kryptonian's grip tightened, and the Omega winced at the pain.
Y/N looked down and quickly rid himself of any thoughts that he could survive a fall from this height. Even if he was Aphrodite's son, he lacked something vitally important that his mother and brother both possessed. Immortality.
Hopefully, he could figure another way out of this.
He knew there was no reasoning with the Alpha. As long as he was under Eros' spell, no amount of logic or reasoning would get through to him. As clichĂŠ as it may sound, Y/N needed a divine intervention.
Thankfully, it seemed as if one was on the way.
Trails of green energy suddenly surrounded the pair, forming a giant floating cage. Superman turned to see his comrade, having escaped from Flash's grasp flying toward them.
"Get away from him!" Green Lantern yelled, flying towards the duo.
"No! He belongs to me. You have no right to him Lantern," Superman shouted back, clutching the Omega closer.
"You're not even a real Alpha, Clark! You're not even strong enough to make an Omega like him submit to you."
"What did you just say?!"
"You heard me, you fake-ass Alpha. I'm the only one worthy enough for him. Not some alien trash!"
"Why, you-"
Before the two could continue their argument, a vortex suddenly surrounded the two, causing Lantern to lose his focus. The energy cage surrounding the Kryptonian and Omega dissipated and the force from the vortex sent the two heroes to lose their flying. Superman tried his best to stay in the air, but the sudden force was too much and caused him to crash into a nearby building while Lantern crashed into a dumpster.
The Kryptonian managed to shield the Omega from the damage and brunt of their fall by wrapping him in his body. When Y/N realized they weren't falling anymore and had come to a complete stop, he peeked from the Alpha's hold, just in time to see the return of a certain Speedster who must have run up the side of the building to where they were now.
"Are you guys alright?" Flash asked, his eyes landing on the Omega in Superman's arms.
"I'm fine," Y/N nodded, and Flash sighed in relief.
"A vortex, Flash? Really?" Superman questioned with a raised eyebrow, still holding the Omega to his body.
"It was the quickest way to get you two out of the air without hurting anyone," Flash defended, crossing his arms.
"By throwing us into a building?"
"Better than the ground."
"You could have gotten him killed!"
"You were the one holding him!"
"Guys, I'm fine. I promise," Y/N interrupted, and the two Alphas turned to him.
"See, he's fine. Let's get back to the fight," Flash suggested, turning to leave.
"No, not until he's mine," Superman shook his head, and the Omega groaned. He stood up from the ground, letting the Omega stand on his own feet, but keeping an arm wrapped body to prevent him from running off.
"Not this again," Flash sighed, turning back, "You can't claim him."
"And why not?"
"Because he's mine," Lantern's voice suddenly joined the conversation, and the three turned to see the hero, seemingly recovered from his fall, walking towards them.
"No, he's mine!" Superman shouted, his eyes suddenly glowing red as he pointed them at the green-clad hero.
"Clark, no!" Flash shouted, holding his arms up in an attempt to stop the Kryptonian.
"No, he's mine. He's mine. He's mine!" The Kryptonian yelled, his eyes getting brighter.
"Clark, you're gonna kill him!"
"I don't care, Barry. No one is taking my Omega from me."
"He's not yours to claim," Lantern shouted back.
While this was all happening, everyone was oblivious to the new presence that had joined him. Only, none of the heroes could see him. Only Y/N could, and that was a very big problem.
"Eros..." Y/N muttered under his breath, narrowing his gaze at his half-brother who held a mischievous grin on his face while positioning himself slowly behind the speedster.
When Y/N realized what he was doing, he struggled in the Kryptonian's grip, "Eros, no!"
But, it was too late. The deity had taken his shot at the Flash, hitting him perfectly square in the back. The speedster flinched at the impact, turning to look around but finding nothing there, at least, nothing his sight could see. But, when he turned his gaze back around and they fell on the Omega still trapped in Superman's hands, an identical glaze to match the one in the other heroes fell over his eyes. One the half-blood was all too familiar with.
"Oh fuck..." Y/N muttered under his breath.
"Mine," Flash growled, his eyes trained on the Omega.
Before either of the two other heroes could react, Flash sped forward and landed a bunch of fast punches and blows on the Kryptonian, causing him to lose his grip on the Omega.
"Flash, what are you doing?" Lantern yelled at his comrade.
"Taking what's mine," The speedster responded, a charming but crazed look in his expression.
He grabbed Y/N and threw him over his shoulder, the Omega flailing in his grip while also trying to hold on tight as the speedster sped around the space, avoiding attacks from both Green Lantern and Superman at the same time.
"He's not yours, Barry!" Superman shouted, his heat vision shooting at the speedster who avoided it with ease.
"Yes, he is! He's mine!" The speedster yelled, clutching the Omega tighter.
"No, he's mine," Lantern yelled back, sending a giant fist toward the speedster who avoided it in a blur.
"No, he's mine!" Superman yelled, sending his heat vision at Lantern who in turn blocked it with a shield.
"No, he's mine!" The two shouted together, and the fight resumed.
Y/N, still trapped in the speedster's arms, watched helplessly as the Kryptonian and Lantern focused their attacks on each other, feeling a pat on his ass from the speedster who tightened the grip he had around his legs.
"Don't worry about them, beautiful. They're not worthy enough to have you. I am. You'll be mine, and I'll protect you from the others," Flash's voice was husky, and the Omega could feel his heart pounding against his chest.
"You're under a spell, Flash. You don't want to do this," Y/N tried to reason, but the speedster just laughed.
"Oh, but I do. I didn't know what actual life was until just a few minutes ago when I gazed upon you. and now that I have you, I can finally make you mine," Flash smirked, and the Omega gulped.
Flash sped out of the building with the Omega over his shoulder still, the two other Alphas only noticing their disappearance after they were already a mile down the street.
"Shit, where did he take him?" Lantern asked, looking around.
"I don't know," Superman answered, "But we'll find him. And when we do, you'll be the one who has to step aside."
"Like hell, I will!"
While those two continued to bicker, Flash ran himself and the Omega all the way back to Central City. Y/N was amazed at how he didn't pass out from the speed and movement, but he was grateful he didn't. Also, having superspeed may have made it a bit easier.
Just a guess.
When they finally came to a stop, the Omega was set down on his feet, and he looked around to see they were in some bedroom.
"Where are we?" Y/N asked, trying to keep his composure.
"My bedroom," Flash answered, his eyes still glazed over.
"Oh," Y/N nodded, a nervous feeling in his stomach.
"Don't worry, you're safe here," The speedster walked towards him, and the Omega backed away, "I'm not gonna hurt you."
"You say that, but your eyes say otherwise," Y/N responded, continuing to back away until he hit the wall.
"I know. But, I can't help it. I need to have you," Flash smirked, and the Omega felt his arousal getting excited in his pants.
"I'm not yours to have," Y/N shook his head, his heart pounding.
"Yes, you are," Flash's voice was firm, and the Omega felt his resolve fading.
"I-I'm not," Y/N stuttered, his knees getting weak.
"Yes, you are," The speedster was in front of him, and Y/N could feel his breath on his skin.
"I'm not," Y/N shook his head, but his voice was barely a whisper.
"You are," Flash whispered, his face close to the Omega's.
The very thing Y/N was concerned about happening when he was trapped with Superman earlier began to manifest, much to his fear. His divine abilities were reacting to his body's 'chemistry spikes' and now, he was beginning to mirror the Alpha's current feelings toward him, including the obsessive ones, which were now clouding his judgment.
"I'm not," Y/N shook his head, his breathing getting labored.
"You are," Flash whispered, his lips getting closer to the Omega's.
"I'm not," Y/N stuttered, his body giving in.
"You are," Flash whispered, pressing his lips to the Omega's.
"I'm not," Y/N muttered against his lips.
"You are," Flash said firmly, pulling the Omega's body closer to him.
In a move Y/N thought was him going to push against the Alpha in an attempt to resist his seductions, he actually was running his hands up and down the spandex-covered muscles. His legs were spread open by the speedster as he hoisted him up, wrapping them around his waist while pressing him to the wall, kissing him even harder while undressing his clothes.
"You're mine, Y/N," The speedster whispered, his lips trailing down the Omega's neck, "All mine."
"I'm yours, Barry," Y/N panted, his body flushed. Y/N remembered hearing Superman call the speedster by that, figuring it must have been either his civilian name or a codename they had. Either way, he could see from the delighted expression across the Flash's face and his blue eyes through the slits of his mask that he was very pleased by it.
"Say it again."
"I'm yours, Barry. I'm yours."
"That's right, beautiful. You're mine, and I'm yours. You'll never have to worry about other Alphas again, because I'll protect you from them."
The sun's light cascaded through the open windows in the bedroom as the two continued frotting against each other against the wall. Barry trailed his kisses from Y/N's lips down to his neck and eventually to his naked chest, before sucking on his wet nipples while the Omega through his head back in pleasure, the Alpha looking up at him with his blue eyes before taking his lips away from the leaking nubs.
"Do you like that, darling?" Barry asked, and the Omega nodded, his eyes glazed over, "Are you ready for more?"
"Y-Yes, Alpha," Y/N nodded, his breath labored.
"Good boy," Barry whispered, his voice husky and deep. He kissed the Omega one last time on the lips before pulling him away from the wall, carrying him bridal style to the bed.
Barry laid the Omega down, the latter spreading his legs open in submission and invitation, and the former smirked, climbing on top of the bed. Barry pressed kisses to the side of the Omega's neck again, right over his scent gland before taking a big sniff.
"Just the smell of you gets me excited, darling."
Barry's hands roamed the Omega's upper naked body, feeling the smooth and soft skin while trailing his fingers down his sides and to his hips. Y/N gasped, his hands gripping the sheets as the speedster's fingers teased the inside of his thighs.
"I love the way your skin feels, and the way your body reacts to me," Barry whispered, his nose pressing into the Omega's scent gland.
"Barry," Y/N moaned, his body arching off the bed.
"Say it again," Barry growled, his hands squeezing the Omega's hips.
"Barry," Y/N moaned, his eyes closed.
"That's right, baby. I'm Barry, and you're mine," Barry whispered, his fingers moving up the Omega's inner thighs.
"I'm yours," Y/N nodded, his legs spreading open even wider.
However, before Barry could move to remove the Y/Nâs pants, the Omega whined at him, tugging on the spandex of his suit and mask with his hands causing a cheesing smile to appear across the Alpha's face.
"Aw, you want to see me out of my suit, don't you, darling?" Barry asked, and the Omega nodded frantically.
"Yes, Alpha. Please."
"Good boy," Barry praised, and the Omega whimpered.
He quickly removed his gloves and masks, tossing them aside before unzipping the top of his suit and pulling it off, revealing his sculpted and muscled chest. Y/N's eyes widened in delight and appreciation at the sight, reaching his hands out to touch the smooth and pale skin.
The Omega moaned happily at the sight, running his hands down the hard pecs and abs while leaning up to press his own kisses against the skin. Barry shuddered above him from the move while resuming his earlier actions of removing the offending pants and underwear that were hiding his prize from his sight.
Tossing the pants aside, he leaned up and took in the sight of the fully naked Omega, writhing on his sheets and whining for him, feeling his own throbbing hard erection under his suit pants.
"Look at you, darling. So beautiful, and all mine," Barry ran his hands down the Omega's sides, creating a tickling feeling that had the smaller male giggling, "I can't wait to claim your body, all for me," he growled, voice husky with want.
Barry kissed his way down the Omega's chest, taking a moment to bite and lick at the leaking nubs again before gripping his thighs and spreading them open. He positioned his head between the open legs while staring at the tight, slick-producing hole in front of him. He lapped his tongue to gather of taste of it on his tongue, Y/N flinching violently at the sensation while calling out the Alpha's name.
"Delicious," Barry muttered, before diving in on the wet treat in front of him.
"Oh fuck," Y/N moaned, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly.
Barry's tongue lapped at the dripping slick, his hands gripping the Omega's thighs tight and pushing them open even further to gain better access. Y/N moaned, his back arching off the bed while the Alpha's tongue entered his hole, tasting him from the inside.
"Barry, please. Please, I need it. Please," Y/N begged, his body shaking with arousal and want.
Barry didn't listen to him though, he kept feasting on the Omega's arousal while using his speed to vibrate his tongue inside him, causing the Omega to moan even louder, his body shaking with pleasure.
"Barry, please! a-ah, fuck ... !" Y/N cried, his body shaking even more.
"What do you need, baby? Tell me," Barry asked, pulling his tongue out and looking at the Omega with a smirk.
"I-I need you... Please, please," Y/N begged, and the Alpha smiled.
"You want me, baby?"
"Yes, Alpha. Please, I need you. Please."
"Well, since you asked so nicely."
The Alpha discarded the rest of his suit and underwear, his throbbing erection springing free, causing the Omega to lick his lips at the sight. Barry chuckled at his reaction while pulling him down the bed and picking him up in his arms, wrapping the smaller male's legs around him and pressing him against the wall.
Barry played with his cock against the Y/N's wet heat, enjoying the pleasurable reactions that ran across the Omega's face. "Who's your Alpha?" He asked with another playful smack of his mushroom head against the hot and throbbing entrance.
"Y-You, Alpha," Y/N panted, his face red and eyes glazed over.
"That's right, baby. I'm your Alpha," Barry whispered before he slowly slid inside the Omega.
"Fuck!" Y/N yelled, his head leaning back against the wall.
"So tight and warm. It's like you were made just for me, baby," Barry moaned, his cock pushing all the way in until his balls were pressed against the Omega's ass.
Y/N dug his nails into the skin of Barry's shoulders while the Alpha pressed him harder against the wall, his hips rapidly moving back and forth as he fucked him hard. The speedster's hips and legs were already dripping with more and more of the Omega's arousal as it dripped into his carpet, creating more of a mess the harder he thrust in and out of the hole.
"h-harder ... p-please, harder ..." Y/N moaned, his eyes closed while Barry sucked on his neck.
"So beautiful," Barry growled, his hands gripping the Omega's ass cheeks while thrusting harder, "Such a good little Omega, taking my cock so well."
"Barry! Barry!" Y/N moaned, his legs wrapped tighter around the Alpha's waist.
"Say it again," Barry growled, his hips moving faster.
"Barry!" Y/N moaned, his back arching.
Suddenly, Barry got the bright idea to add his speed to it, making his hips move at a pace that would be deemed impossible for any regular human. Good thing he wasn't a regular human. However, the increase in speed had Y/N shouting at the top of his lungs, tears springing to his eyes as he pounded his fists against the Alpha's hard, mildly sweaty chest.
Meanwhile, Y/N was a soaking mess. The shine from the sweat all around his body was highlighted by the sun's fading rays and the increasingly bright glow from the streetlights outside the window. Combined with the sticky fluid still leaking from his chest and the slick that was all but splashing between the Alpha and Omega.
"That's it, baby. Take my cock. Take it all," Barry growled, his hips moving faster.
"Barry, I-I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum," Y/N cried, his legs shaking.
"Do it. Cum for me, baby," Barry commanded, and the Omega followed.
"Fuck!" Y/N screamed, his back arching and his eyes rolling back into his head as he came between the two, digging nails into Barry's sweaty back as his release overwhelmed him.
"That's a good Omega," Barry said, before slipping out of the smaller male, carrying him over to the bed and propping him up on all fours.
He gripped the Omega's hips, sliding back inside him and fucking him at a rapid pace, his hips slapping against the plump ass cheeks. Y/N's eyes rolled back into his head as he cried out, his body shaking with pleasure while the Alpha fucked him.
"That's it, baby. Take it," Barry growled, his grip tightening on the Omega's hips.
"p-please, I can't... FUCK! I can't take anymore... !" Y/N cried, his body shaking as the Alpha started using his powers again to increase his speed.
"You can, and you will," Barry growled, his hips moving even faster.
"Barry, please! Fuck, I'm gonna... !"
"Do it. Cum for me, baby. Cum for your Alpha," Barry growled.
"mm ... mmh ... ! O-OHH, FUCK ... !" Y/N shouted, his back arching and his eyes rolling back into his head as he came, his legs and body shaking from the overstimulation as the Alpha started to chase his own finish.
Barry's knot started to form at the base and slowly was inching closer and closer as the Alpha fucked the Omega who was beginning to softly cry from the amount of pleasure and pain he was experiencing. His hands weakly tried to push against the speedster's hips in an attempt to slow him down but were snatched together in a grip while feeling a painful smack against his ass.
"Don't try and fight it, baby. Just let me claim you. Just let me have you," Barry growled, throwing his head back in pleasure.
"Barry, I-I can't ... !" Y/N cried, his body shaking.
"Yes, you can. Just a little longer," Barry's hips started to stutter, and the Omega cried out, his legs shaking as he felt the Alpha's knot starting to press against his hole.
"Barry, please! PLEASE ... !" Y/N sobbed, his body convulsing on the inside from the overwhelming sensation.
"Just a little longer, baby. Just a little longer."
"I-I can't... Please, I can't ... !"
"Almost there, baby. Who's your Alpha?"
"Y-You... You are ... !"
"That's right, baby. I'm your Alpha. And, now I'm gonna make you mine. Forever."
With that, Barry pressed all the way inside, releasing his knot into the Omega with a loud groan as he leaned forward, catching himself on the bed as Y/N had his third orgasm against the sheets, suddenly feeling heavy and drained from the strenuous workout he just went through.
While the pair were both recovering, neither of them realized the small, matching marks that slowly appeared over their scent glands. They were now a fully mated pair, and the God of Love and Sex knew this as he peered in through the window, watching the sweaty individuals with satisfaction.
"Welp, my job's done. I'm sure Mother will be pleased with this outcome. Serves you right, brother. You should know better than to try and deny your heritage. Hope you learn well from this punishment."
With that, the deity disappeared, making his way home.
Meanwhile...
"That should be the last of them," Lantern said, flying through the air after he captured the last of the attacking minions.
"Good," Superman nodded, his eyes still glowing white as he scanned the area.
"What are you doing?" Lantern asked, looking at the Kryptonian confused.
"Looking for him."
"Who?"
"The Omega."
"Oh yeah, do you think Barry already claimed him?"
"Probably, but it doesn't matter. Cause he belongs to me, and I'm going to take him back, by whatever means necessary."
âď¸ | Barry Allen/Flash | âď¸
âď¸ | Masterlists | âď¸
#solar-wing âď¸#âď¸đŞ˝.omegaverse#âď¸đŞ˝.fanfic#âď¸đŞ˝.dcposts#âď¸đŞ˝.explicit#âď¸đŞ˝.smut#âď¸đŞ˝.txt#gay#dc#dcu#dcau#dc universe#x reader#x male reader#barry allen#barry allen x reader#barry allen x male reader#barry allen x m!reader#flash#flash x reader#flash x male reader#flash x m!reader#hal jordan#hal jordan x reader#hal jordan x male reader#green lantern#clark kent#clark kent x reader#clark kent x male reader#superman
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Kinknuary Day 2: Praise Kink
Pairing: IVE Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader
Word Count: 3,760
[Kinknuary Masterlist]
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Sophisticated and classyâthatâs one of the few words to describe this girl that has been on your nerves since probably day one. You hate her attitude and so is the luck every time youâre with her as everything seems to fall out of place, maybe in the worst-case scenario, you guess.Â
Well, in all honesty, you donât hate the princess. You never did.
Itâs just all about jealousy and distraught with your own confidence that whenever she steps in, it crumbles like paperâeasily defeated and turned into a ball of nothingness.
Well, everything changed within a singular snap of a finger (itâs figurative, of course) and you feel light-headed just being here, with her, holding her soft hands as she reassures you. She wasnât even going to try anything thatâll exhaust such a plethora of energy because she knows herself how her charisma and visuals can make a man fall in love with her, not to mention rejecting dozens of men trying to ignite the love in heart but failed miserably.
But here you are, being the biggest irony of Wonyoungâs definition of love⌠or is it?
âCome on, oppa, we even have two hours left! Please, just stayâŚâ
You canât and you donât want to. She can meet you anytime around the day or even in the whole week but you know she ainât going to give up so easily, knowing sheâs not going to stop until she gets what she wants. She wanted you to stay but your job is done here, youâve taught her well, she pays the price and youâre going to leave her. Simple, yet her charms allure you but you fight yourself against it.
âI said what I said, Wonyoung, okay? I canâtââ
âYou can't what, hm?â Wonyoung thuds her foot on the floor, frustrated upon your own actions of leaving her. She grabs your wrists, pulling it with maybe all of her strength (you canât really tell it because on how easy it is outpower her, your muscular arms against her thin figure doesnât make it a challenge) and then pouting right after, wanting you to stay and not leave her at this moment, at least.
Well, you canât just let herself win all the time like she was always used to. You want to see the defeat on her sparkling orbs full of anticipation and her hope being lostâ
âThen leave! I donât need you anymore, oppa! Donât touch me ever again!â
And there she goes with her reverse psychological attempts of gaslighting and never ceases to make you feel the sudden urge of being dead inside, unable to think clearly and having struggles within deciding the most beneficial one, for you, of course.
Hereâs the thing: you donât want her yet you like herâitâs a win-win situation and why should you overthink yourself about this? Itâs like youâre going to lose a lot from this or gain a lot yet you know how cranky and bratty Wonyoung can get and itâs the greatest bane of your existence. Seeing Wonyoung becoming a nuisance and ill-tempered unlocks your irascible self and you hate her for that (and thank god, it happens pretty rarely).
You wanted to fight your urges but you donât want this to escalate further, knowing how selfish Wonyoung can be and how she wonât adjust even in the tiniest bit.
God, this girlâyou muttered upon yourself as it was laced with venom, cursed and damned about meeting this not-so-angelic girl. You canât resist your temptation eitherâstaying with Wonyoung probably will end in both ways, hoping itâll be good or better.
âOkay, tchââ You quickly rushed your way onto the couch, sitting on it and earning a loud thud which made Wonyoung gasp at your harsh actions of the possible damage on the furniture but you didnât care. âThere, happy, hm, Wony?â
Her earlier stern and helpless countenance was now replaced with joy and satisfaction, knowing you chose to stay (and itâs like you have a choice because itâs impossible whenever sheâs near).Â
âHah, yey! Youâre definitely the best, oppa!â Wonyoung sat beside you and rested her head onto your shoulder, signaling the delight that sheâs feeling knowing that sheâs with you and you choose whatâs best for her. âI know you canât resist me, oppa.â
âHeck yeah I can't cause youâre gonna go nuts if I reject you.â
âWhat did you say?â Wonyoung pouts yet the glare in her eyes are evident, and so is the distaste that she feels after hearing such unacceptable cacophony. You know that she didnât mind it, not even the slightest so you just brushed it off with a single âNothing, Wonyoung.â and all things went normal yet an uncanny feeling in the can be feltâno, it's just Wonyoung on her knees, in front of youâ
âWhat are you doing, Wonyoung?âÂ
You don't feel so good about this and have this nerve of an unwanted vice happening anytime soon. You knew this would come and you shouldn't have given in to her wants yet the other side of you is full of anticipation as your primal desires are slowly taking over you.
âDon't be so oblivious, oppa. Let me return the favor of everything you've done earlier.â You didn't deserve such a thing, even though you're not new to thisâwell, also thanks to her, she took your virginity awayâyou still don't need this favorable return. You just helped her study and tutored her but why would this be the return? Isn't such a simple soul like you enough for a gift?
You can't turn back now; you're only going to move forward and it's just only going to get better from here.
âBut why, Wony? I don't deserve suchââ
âShut it, oppaââ Wonyoung tugs your pants as those perfect, dainty fingers scramble on unbuckling your belt and loosening up the clothed defenses that protects the desired grand prize. âânow would you let your little Wony reward you, daddy?â
Of course, the pet nameâit turns you on so much that now, you can't contain anything but let your animalistic desires out. You can't stop her because it's too late and in fact, you want this and you're an absolute hypocrite if you don't.Â
Things went like a flashâit felt like everything felt too fast as time sped up like a rocket but you didn't care because you wanted her, utterly.
With the last clothed defense on your iron wall, it collapses down to your ankles as it was proven worthless now, your hardening member is now within the sight of her refulgent orbsâgod, it just feels better, doesn't it? You're maybe in heaven but the devil is just beside you and the oxymoron never failed to be in its own party.
With the draw of her nails onto your leaking slit, it draws pain and pits gasoline of the fireâpain associated with pleasure and not close to drawing blood.Â
âOh god, Wonyoungâwe don't really need to d-do thisâŚâ
âOh stop it, daddy. I know you wanted this and let your little girl pleasure you for the time beingââ Wonyoung places her lips onto your swollen head, giving it a small peck that makes you shudder, your mouth escaping beautiful moans that fuels the primal lust and ego of Wonyoung.Â
She seems to be the one that likes her ego getting petted and you're here to absolutely do it.
âSuch a good g-girl for daddy, Wonyoung. So skilled and so goodâyou're definitely loving the taste of my cock don't you, hm?â
You're getting cocky and you know Wonyoung is loving this despite the utter brattiness and hypocrisy running down her mind.
âGahâyou know y-your cock is something I can't r-resist, daddyâŚâ
She continues her moderate bobs as your base is now getting wet with her drool that is now starting to drip all over your sensitive head and her chin. She's in her own league and in an absolute masterclass when it comes to dick-suckingâsuch lips made like a cocksleeve is truly the one to be treasured as it perfectly hugs around your shaft like it was molded around it, her pleasurable suction being the cherry on top.
Her cheeks hollow in every thrust she does with her talented mouth, and you're no stranger to tell her how great she's been blowing you and it only has been a minuteâand god, she's making your brain go haywire.
You stroke her hair and caress her cheeks, letting her know how great she is in terms of sucking you off. âKeep doing that, baby. This cock is all for you, princess. So, so, goodâgod, fuck!â
And it is incredibly off the chartsâthe corkscrew motions of her fingers, the dance of her tongue filled with enamore and the overstimulating suction is just, nearly, too much to handle.Â
No one can top off her skills as she's just a professional in thisâevery second sending you weak, on your knees as every technique known to enervate your defenses is being presented right now and you can't think of anything articulate except the fact that Wonyoung's mouth is exerting too much effort as it's getting near the promised landâ
âJust likeâthatâbaby, ah! So fucking goodâgod, how are you so incredibly talented in possibly anything?â
Stroke her ego and she definitely loves itâher pupils dilating everytime you commend her is one strong piece of evidence. It's true even though it may seem like you're playing with her and it's crazy to think about it. She may be the jack-of-all-trades when it comes to everything but itâs definitely not even close with that in accordance to her selfish and diabolical attitudeâitâs contradicting but you guess itâs just the fact that she always wanted to be treated like a princess and her sophisticated life explains about it.Â
Well as much as youâd wanna do the opposite, itâs going to be completely questionable if youâll degrade the superior job sheâs doing between your legs. A flick of her tongue nears you onto that finish line as well as the dexterity of her slender fingersâit doesnât help at all, considering you still want to savor and cherish every second of Wonyoungâs masterclass, the inevitable canât be stopped as the growing sensation in your loins is ready to unload everything inside her heavenly mouth.
âYour mouth Wonyââ
Her pace is ridiculous, unmatched han any other as her warm cavern glides onto your shaft like a loose speedster, in a hot pursuitâ
ââitâs too goodââ
Her silken plumpness made to unleash the profanities inside you, unshackling them and bringing them to their endgame butâ
Pop.Â
âB-but whyâd you stop? Iâm so close, Wony!â
You vent out the little frustration towards Wonyoung as your high suddenly became on the lowest point, subsided even before youâve truly noticed it. Wonyoung just pouts at you adorably, apologizing for what she's done and god, the saliva dripping down to her chin and all around your cock is just a sight to see. It was feeling so damn good until she played with you but youâre not furious about it because sheâs maybe wanting something and probablyâthis last bit is what youâre hoping forâhaving multiple things in store for you, for later.
Sheâs only getting started and itâs only going to get better than this.
Her quivering plump lips, her disheveled hair, her beautiful façadeâevery inch of her perfect is such a sight for a nice canvas to be painted on but it is what it is.
âWant you in my pussy now, daddy. GodâI really love your cock, so much I just canât get enough of it.â
Yes, itâs like her favorite candy sheâs ready to brag about and itâs addicting. Ever since youâve slept with her, it became a whole different story being with her as you always envisioned the nastiest things with her whenever you think about her and itâs clouded your mind ever since. Well, now, you have a lot of things to fulfill with her and the blowjob earlier was just the beginning of a show thatâs bound to happen.
âI canât get enough of your mind-boggling blowjobs too, Wony. You make me feelââ You switch places with her, pinning her down slowly onto the couch, your face now inching closer and closer towards her. ââgreat and thatâs what I like about this.â
Without any foreplay, you capture her lips off-guard as you make the most passionate kiss possible thatâll make her feel butterflies in her stomach. Its saccharine taste makes it insatiable, wanting more of her yet a hot half a minute of this flustering moment is enough for the both of you to exchange breaths.
âLike the taste of you, daddy? âCause I doâlike, a lot.â Your face was puzzled after Wonyoung said that, also confused and unsure on what to imply as you playfully retorted against her. âI mean, your lips really made everything insatiable. Just can't get enough of you honestlyâŚâ
You continue the intimacy, fueling the lust inside you by dominating her with your tongue as she eagerly reciprocates, the kiss getting too heated but Wonyoung taps your shoulder, signaling you to detach away from her lips. You donât know why exactly she wants this to be over but with Wonyoungâs enlightenment of the climax, your mind has been cleared and awakened, and so are your primal desires.
âAs much as I want to kiss you, daddy, my pussyâs been wet since Iâve sucked you offâso p-please, daddyâhng!â
And who are you to reject it? You want to pound her tight cunt as much as you wanted her today and thereâs no one to stop you right now, and neither is she. With the best of both worlds, you elevated the anticipating climax yet a brighter idea will make this session a wilder ride.
âLetâs take this to the bedroom, princessâwould pound your tight, perfect pussy so hard that youâre only going to think about me only.â
And there and there, everything went off the cliff, up to the highest paramount of eventsâŚ
-----------------------------------
âToo good, daddy!â Your fingers up her delicious cunt never fails to earn the most heavenly whimpers escaping Wonyoungâs mouth, let alone fueling the lust inside you as your slit leaks precum just from the sight of her tight cunt squelching and clenching around your digits.
âItâs only going to get better from here, princessââ A harsh spank resonates around the puny room as the dissonance of her orchestrated moans makes your hardened length throb in need, unable to control anything. ââbecause Iâm going to treat you like a princess but fuck you like how you deserve it.â
âW-whaâwhat d-did I deserve, daddy?â
âA rough one, Wony. Since youâve done a great job at the startâŚâ
As the heat in the air is still ignited, you take the last bit of teasing with your digits and hard spanks as youâre lost for words once youâve plunged your length inside her. It never gets old and sheâs still as suffocatingly tight as ever, not to mention with even the slightest of movement and her pussy responses with the tightest clench possible. Gripping her hips for a small leverage, you thrust in her slowly as you ensue a few kisses onto the nape of her neck, earning such moans that just makes you want to build up the pace even more.
âAhh, daddyâitâs so good! Youâre s-stretching meâahhâso w-wellâŚâ
âAnd you take me so well, Wony. Your pussy is literally made for me to be hammered, hm?â You quicken the pace, just withdrawing with only the tip inside and then slamming back in, filling her up to the hilt. She mewls in every thrust you do, further arousing you as she grips onto the sheets as a leverage on the harsh acts youâre doing on her tight cunt. Adding some spanks in every oscillation of your hips, you notice how it clenches every time you do it and youâre loving every second of itâloving how helpless and lewd your princess has become is truly a sight to behold.Â
âYouâre so good at taking my huge cock, princessâŚâ Your brush off her silky-smooth hair off her shoulders as you pepper her neck and back with kisses that further makes the act hotter than what could it be. You trace the curvature of her waist down to her slender thighs that probably run for days and god, why does a princess have to be this perfect? Down every last feature Wonyoung has is in its absolute flawless state and you canât help but be in awe as you in every ram you do inside her clenching heat is the praise of her faultless figure.
âGood god, Wonyâdown to your beautiful face up to your pussy, youâre just so fucking perfect arenât you?â
âGah, daddy! Fuck me harder please!â
A spank as the retaliation of her hostile takeover of lust has won, and you, the dominative one will orchestrate things onto your own accord, not hers.
âWonyoung, youâre lucky I can fuck this good because no one can and youâre mineâevery perfectly tight hole in your body is mine to use, do you understand?â Between thrusts you spat her with venomous yet genuine words, but she could only cry in pleasure as your thrusts are just too much for her to think of something articulate enough of a response so, it only took her ten seconds to come up with somethingâ âYes, d-daddyâahh!â
Such rampant actions never cease to make someone scream in delight and itâs every man's dream to be in this position. Kiss, spank, thrust and repeat, it goes around in circles and youâre not going to stop it because youâre in a state of do-or-die (figuratively, of course) because in any second now, you can feel yourself getting on your high and so is Wonyoungâs, her pussy creaming all over your enraged length is enough of an evidence.
âWonyoungâfuck! Youâre so tight and so good!â
âDaddy Iâm going to c-cumâgahh, so s-soon! Please!â
Thatâs the green light to bring another onslaught of thrusts with no-return, hammering her cunt like itâs rent due alongside grabbing her hair for her heavenly moans to be unshackled (and if youâre wondering, her arms gave out two minutes earlier because of too much pleasure as she rested her hair onto the mattress, muffling her moans in which, you didnât really like). With the obviously lewd moans (almost screams) of Wonyoung and the repetitive clenching of her tight heat, you know that sheâs about to get off so you gave her the final set of the harshest thrusts possible to mankind as it was too enough and all are let out.
You pull out of her gripping pussy as she squirts all over the bedsheets, your cock and even to your toned abdomen. You finger her repetitively in a deft pace that she cries in a wanton need and that even fuels you further into abomination.
âYou good, Wony?â
âY-yes, daddyâunload it a-all in my pussyââ Her shining orbs pleads you onto her desires, wanting you to fulfill it. Her pupils dilate once again, anticipating on a good note with youâ ââpleaseâŚâ
âIâm dying to cum inside this perfect pussy of yours, Wonyoung.â
Pinning her down onto the bed (not so harshly), you tease her pussy with your swollen cockhead for a bit, in which earns the finest moans escaping her lips and so are the needy whimpers. Without any time to waste, you plunge into her dripping core once again but this time, the penetration is crazingly-deep, achieving the sensation of a lifetime that makes you feel butterflies. You command her to place both of her legs onto your shoulders, wanting to achieve the deepest penetration possible as she did and god, that felt way better than earlier and itâs too heavenly to be true.
âAhhâdaddyâIâgahh, so so good and d-deep! Fuck me h-hardâcum i-inside meâgahh, please!â
The desperation in her eyes says it all. Even with the messed-up makeup, tears and her disheveled hair all over the place, itâs not even a challenge to sense how needy she is for you and your seed to be deposited inside her. Now bringing the thrusts that surpasses the harshness of your actions earlier, and making Wonyoung the most raucous sheâs ever beenâall in the experience on the paramount of delight as everything seems to be at that moment, just a step away from your both desired promised lands. You werenât far off of your high and Wonyoung can sense it through your eyes as she helps out, fucking herself onto your length as you chase your high, grabbing her waist and hips harshly as the leverage with your relentless pursuit onto her pussy.
âIâm going to cum, Wonyoung! So fucking close in this perfect cunt of yoursâfuck!â
And you break, everything loose as you bury your length inside her, balls-deep as you unload everything youâve got and your moans and Wonyoungâs blessed the entire room as it reverberated all over. With your last groan and the hard grip of her hips, your orgasm finally subsided as it was an euphoric oneâit was so euphoric that you almost passed out but it wasnât really close. Wonyoung on the other hand, laid down flat on the bed, enervated from the steamy sex session yet she smiles widely, knowing that your load is inside her pussy as the warmth of it elicits the sultriest of moans.
âThank you, daddyâhah⌠For this load⌠Hah, I love i-itâŚâ
That changed your demeanor from a stern, dominative one to softer, warmhearted as you blush because of her, feeling so grateful and thankful for this moment as the earlier omnipotence of power now subsided, back to your old self.
âThank you too, Wonyoungâyou took me so well⌠hah, that was exhaustingâŚâ
âYeah, I know, oppaâŚâ She brushes her fingers all over your chest, tracing it slowly as she looks at you endearingly, her eyes telling you how much she loved this moment, disregarding the fact of the pain that she feltâshe liked it because it turned her on even moreâfrom all of your harshness and spanking. Sheâs genuine about it and you could tell it without her even uttering a single word.
âWe should clean up, oppa, actually.â
âYeah, oh no, I think you need some new set of sheets after this.â
âYouâre the one to blame here, oppa! You made me squirt so hard!!â
And the bratty, sophisticated Wonyoung is back and here we go again, back from the despair and being the bugbear she isâŚ
#kinknuary 2024#ive smut#jang wonyoung smut#wonyoung smut#ive x male reader#jang wonyoung x male reader#wonyoung x male reader
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"he was never unfaithful to robert, was he?" - jaime, acok
ha. ha ha ha. the irony of this line is incredible. what's so striking to me is how one dimensional the realm's understanding of eddard stark as an honourable man is - honour itself is an incredibly complicated and unattainable ideal in asoiaf and i think ned as the stereotypical emblem of it encompasses many of the reasons why. because whilst he absolutely does consider acting in a conventionally honourable way important, he always prioritises those he loves. he defended cat's actions as his own without a second thought when she arrested tyrion. his main priority in king's landing is to see his daughters safe, not to secure the succession. lyanna is the prime example: jon's existence is not the result of the lapse of honourable ned stark, it was honourable ned stark choosing his love for his sister over his duty to his king. that and his personal ethical belief that the political murder of a child is never morally acceptable.
no one in the realm has the insight into his personality we get in the first book. none of his children, vitally, understand that he would always prioritise their safety over any honourable scruples. all of the starklings question what their honourable father would think of their actions - killing in self-defence, marrying jeyne westerling, sleeping with ygritte to name a few examples - without recognising that ned's true first priority was always his family's safety.
in fact, he betrayed robert far more than he ever betrayed cat and he would have betrayed honour for his family's safety every time.
#eddard stark#ned stark#i count dany and ned's resistance to her assassination as a betrayal as well btw#because not only was this a moment in which her killing could be contrived as honourable and ned said no thanks acc#but he was absolutely projecting his love for jon onto her#he could not stand by if it was his innocent son/nephew#asoiaf#a song of ice and feels#jon snow#arya stark#house stark#asoiaf meta#catelyn stark#robb stark#catelyn tully#jaime lannister#acok#robert baratheon#i could write a whole post on honour in got alone#and one day i probably will#jon is particularly afflicted with oh god what would my dad say#bestie if you have to sleep with ygritte and play turncloak to survive HE WOULD WANT YOU TO SURVIVE#he didn't make that promise to fold over some thousand year old irrelevant vow
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