#ems tag 💞
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hippolotamus · 4 months ago
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Hippo!! I need more Teddie in my life!! 🎖️🎖️🎖️
You and me both! I love them so much 🥹 (thank you from the bottom of my heart for sending an ask)
Better to just get it over with.
“Evening, officer,” Tommy drawls. “Or should I say morning?”
“Sorry to bother you, Tommy, but you know how it is.”
Tommy waves him off, sighs and tips his chin toward the man in Officer Arthur Johnston’s custody. “I do. Where’d he wind up today?”
Art gives the man a less than gentle shove over the threshold, effectively depositing him in Tommy’s rented room.
“Found him over at Lucky’s. Got a call he was having it out with a pile of crates, claiming they were blocking him from getting home.”
make me write Teddie edition 🎖️
@diazsdimples 🫶
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spotsupstuff · 1 year ago
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I imagine while the aid is the standard river otter size, her and runners pups would be like the size of those giant river otters in South America that hunt crocodiles.
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proud mama of TWO oversized juvenile slinkies
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kimtaegis · 1 year ago
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annie :( it feels like i last sent you an ask ages ago and this feels like the perfect time to drop by so hi! i hope the new year will be kind to you and that you’ll spend it surrounded by love and joy. thank you for being so nice and sweet always, i adore seeing you on my dash, you really make this place kinder 🥺 ily and i’m sending you tight hugs 🤍 p.s. thank you for the cutest tags, they made me happy 🥺
ems my sweet angel, how could the year start any better than with a message from you? I want you to know that I think about you so often and that I always hope you’re healthy and that life is being as kind to you as you are to me and everyone else. I’m putting the warmest, most loving hug (and a few sweet treats) in a box for you and hope it reaches you well, my darling. I love you so much!!!! 🤍🤍🤍
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thalfbloodloser · 10 months ago
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some people were very nice on the tags of my stan-twins star drawing, but i'm kinda feeling bad because i only properly finish a drawing once every 10 years...so i brought you some gravity falls colored/polished sketches instead 🐌☝️💞 hope you like 'em!
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+ a little scene redraw (committed the mistake of asking my friends to pick, from a poll, what i should draw. jokingly added "(evil answer)" after dipcifica and everyone picked that. because they hate me): the babies 🤏
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disclaimer: the twins have almost the same expressions on both drawings because, originally, i was only going to pick one sketch to turn into a nicer, more elaborate piece. turns out i can't pick shit lmao- so i just...half-assedly colored both 🥹 you can definitely see where i completely gave up on the reverse falls one KSJSKSJSKS my bad!
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lewisvinga · 11 months ago
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roscoe’s daddy | lewis hamilton x fem! reader
summary; in which famous veterinarian, y/n, gets a world famous patient ( and his father is pretty cute himself )
fc; various girls on pinterest
warnings; ?
taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03
note; requested !i shall write as many lewis smaus as my heart desires bc there’s a huge lack of em here 😭 and there was lowk a lack of poc vet pics on pinterest sorry bookie 😣
masterlist !
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆
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liked by roscoelovescoco, lewishamilton, and others !
yourusername: busy day in the office but look who came in for a checkup? 💗
tagged; roscoelovescoco
roscoelovescoco: feeling’s all’s better now’s !
username: i love when grown men pretend to be their dogs on instagram
username: y’all think lewis would use roscoe’s instagram account to rizz y/n up?
username: ROSCOEEEEEE?????
username: what an icon
username: roscoe😭💗💓💞
lewishamilton: y/n is a lovely doctor and made roscoe feel at ease! i really recommend her if you’re wondering about taking your pets to her :)
yourusername: awh lewis🥹🥹 you’re too kind 💗
username: lewrizz
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆
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liked by roscoelovescoco, yourbestfriend, and others !
yourusername: mini photo dump of this past week + seeing a very special guest ( and his father ) again because someone got into a bag of chocolate ! 😁
tagged; roscoelovescoco, lewishamilton
roscoelovescoco: you’s the best’s 🐶💓 liked by yourusername !
username: i bet lewis made roscoe eat chocolate so he could see y/n again
username: what are yall on
yourbestfriend: i know you resisted the urge to call him roscoe’s daddy 🙈🙈
yourusername: I CANT STAND YOU😭😭😭
username: LMAOO NOT Y/B/F EXPOSING Y/N
username: no ur so real bc lewis IS daddy idk
lewishamilton: oh🤨
yourusername: lewishamilton look away now
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆
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liked by lewishamilton, yourbestfriend, and others !
yourusername: guess i get to see my patient and his daddy all the time now, but hey! i’m definitely not complaining
tagged; lewishamilton, roscoelovescoco
lewishamilton: 😁😁😁
lewishamilton: guess i don’t have to make up excuses for roscoe to see you🤔
yourusername: knew there was a reason why you came to me saying roscoe ‘ate chocolate’ when he was magically healed otw from your house to my clinic🤔🤔
username: TOLD YALL HE WAS USING ROSCOE TO GET Y/N😭😭
username: LMAOOOO LEWIS IS SO😭😭
yourbestfriend: he’s a good man, y/n, a very good man
yourbestfriend: with money and a cute dog get that bag queen
yourusername: ??!-@;@2&:
username: no bc she’s so real, get that g wagon queen
username: lewis gonna end up w a house full of pets LMAO
username: WAIT WHATTT
username: roscoe ultimate wingman 🫡🫡🫡
username: imagine going to work only to see ur future bf there OOOU i should be a vet 😫
username: not only her future bf BUT LEWIS HAMILTON??
username: wait im living for this
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transgender-catboy · 7 months ago
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had a bite, hope you don't mind
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Happy Birthday to my pal!!!!
per proud spider-man tradition, I am late on this
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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years ago
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First off I LOVE your writing, I’m so happy you’re taking requests again so, may I please request something with Ghost? Like the reader is part of the 141 and Ghost has a soft spot for her and is very protective of her and both having feelings for each other but not saying anything bc both think the other one deserves better or just something like that🥹😮‍💨💖🙏🏻 feel free to keep practicing smut for this one!👀✨
You’re awesome 🥰💞
Blood Was Its Avatar
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PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader
SYNOPSIS: Getting close to you was never his plan, but when he can't stop his self-protective instincts from pushing you away, will he be able to repair your strange friendship? Or will his body have to speak for him? (18+)
WORD COUNT: 8.9k
WARNINGS: Angst, blood, wounds, stitches, death, smut, p in v, throat f-ing, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, implied pain kink, hair pulling, hate sex? but not really?, semi-clothed sex, vulgar language, fluff at the end, etc. just pure filth.
A/N: This is sub-par because I was up until 4 in the morning today and didn't have the energy to edit in-depth lmfao, but enjoy Anon!
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
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All of Ghost’s problems started and ended with you. He was impressed with that fact, actually. 
They call you ‘Masque’ on account of the mission from years back, ‘07 Ghost recalls easily. When you’d been pinned down and surrounded, the dead bodies of your unit all around your feet. You’d chosen to act while the others had been yelling orders over the radio—rooting around the pooling blood on the ground and slathering your face with it; your body. 
You pretended to be dead. 
Quick thinking, Ghost had told you with a glint in his eye when you’d gotten back, those whites of your eyes ten times more noticeable. Like the moon hanging around a crimson-drowned sky. 
You’d cursed him out and said of course it was, quoting some poem from Edgar Allen Poe as a joke.
“Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood.” The Masque of the Red Death. Your claim to survival apparently, as you had just read it a day before.
Ghost said you were bloody fucking crazy and found his eyes darkly watching the way you smirked at him. How the dried blood on your lips would splinter at your loud chuckle as you both entered the C17.
As he knew—all of his problems started and ended with you. Today was no different.
“Damn! Lookin’ good today Ghost, are those new gloves I spy?” You were always so…bubbly. 
“Masque,” the masked-man greats blandly, not even sparing you a look as you enter the meeting room. The screen on the far wall was hooked up to Price’s computer—broadcasting its news out into the dim lighting with images of mayhem and a loop of a video containing the bombing of an embassy building in the Netherlands. 
Profile pictures stain the screen of wanted subjects; captured or killed in the crossfire made no difference here, anyone could see it. 
You drop down into the seat beside his own with a huff, body shed of your usual black gear, and wearing casual fatigues instead—your tags jump on your chest and Ghost sees them glint in the light.
Your face shifts into a smile, prodding with a bump of your elbow. The Lieutenant turns and glares dryly while you carry on, “I asked if you got new gloves; they’re nice.” 
“Needed ‘em.” Ghost drawls, seeing no way out of this as he glances around at the multitude of other free seats. No one else was here yet, and Price had needed to step out for a moment to grab another report from his office one floor up. 
A small grunt echoes from his throat before his eyes dart back to yours. Shifting in his seat, his lax posture tenses before loosening. 
Raising a brow at Ghost, you stifle a laugh.
“That’s it?” He blinks at you slowly, those bright blues trapping you as they shine out from his skeletal visage; his great body hidden under layers of Kevlar and thick canvas cloth. Like some weird and deadly present. You tease him, “No attempt at a conversation, Ghosty? That hurts.”
You sarcastically put a hand to your chest. 
“Then suffer.” Ghost states like he’s reading the newspaper, stretching out one of his wrists by rolling it until it cracks the joints. Where was everyone else? “I’m not fuckin’ talking about bloody gloves, Masque.”
“It’s called a conversation starter!” Under the mask, he raises a dull eyebrow. You glower at him, but the smirk on your lips shows how much you enjoy this.  
“For who? Could have jus’ stayed quiet, then.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes and indulge him—pointedly going silent. Almost immediately an awkward nothingness covers the room with its metaphorical blanket and Ghost’s muscles slowly go stiff as he crosses his arms slowly over his chest. You bite your lip and stamp down a snort. 
A minute spreads like molasses. Two. Three. Five.
“Alright,” Ghost growls, breaking as you pick at your cuticles, humming horribly off-tune to a point where the Lieutenant’s ears were ringing and annoyance faired. “Fucking hell stop it, just say something already to shut up that noise. Sounds like my damn brakes squealin’.” 
You stop and laugh loudly, elbowing him again as he jerks away with a low grunt. Blue flashes, and his heart pounds.
“Jeez, Lieutenant, is my humming that bad for you?” The air rolls with tension.
“More effective than torture.” Ghost utters, his Manchester drawl violent and thick as it coats your ears. You take no offense—you���d been doing it on purpose, anyways; always the one to exploit cracks in the concrete. You'd found out a lot through your studies of the man beside you. Mostly, all of the small tics and unique qualities that made Ghost such a strange character. 
On the battlefield, the large man was resilient and patient. He could wait in one spot for days if he had to, sitting for a perfect shot. Nothing could break the line of purpose and authority he had over the units he was placed in or his fighting spirit. Gunbattles, torture, you name it he’d survived it. 
But he disliked anything below scalding hot tea, detested his objects and packs being messed with…and clenched his hidden jaw at small, repetitive, noises.
Low, horrible, humming, tapping fingers, tongues clicking over and over. You had no idea why, but the sight of making this experienced and handsome man glare at you with annoyance made your face heat up. 
You chuckle in the meeting room, eyes crinkling up at him before you reach for one of the pens and notepads on the table. Clicking the bottom, you shrug and start to scribble nothing into the side margins as blue ink bleeds like foreign blood. 
“What’s Price got for us today, then?” Your voice echoes, “We shipping out with the others or going Black again?” 
The Captain usually paired the two of you up for Black Ops for a reason—Ghost the strategic mastermind to your reckless bloodlust. Push and pull. 
Missions were rarely a failure. 
Ghost sighs, finally getting the sensation of control back into him. “Black,” he begins, “least for us. Old Man’s sending Garrick and Johnny out in hopes of drawin’ a few bastards out first. Netherlands. We slip in the back—off the books, ‘course.” 
He watches you from the side of his eye, gaze following your pen as you sketch out a small stick figure with a skull for a face. Ghost stifles a huff as he scratches at the side of his face.
“Well, of course,” you slyly tease, glancing at him before looking back to your pad. “Are we getting any soldiers?” 
“None. Just us.” 
“Ooo,” Ghost watches your lips curl and feels his body slowly still. “Sounds like fun.”
“It sounds like I’m going to have to babysit again,” you laugh again and dark blue seems to spark with some strange emotion. Ghost clears his throat and takes down a breath.
“Oh, please,” you chuckle, “I’ve saved your hide a few times before, Ghosty, be nice to me.”
“Nice isn’t in the job description, Masque.” 
“Well, it isn’t for you, grumpy. I think Johnny and Gaz are lovely.” Your nose tilts up teasingly as Ghost grumbles like a cat. “But that’s alright, I like you anyways.” Winking, you go back to your pointless scribbling as footsteps echo from the hallway. 
Ghost stares, his hands on the armrests slowly clenching into fists as he studies your expression. His eyes slid over scars and blemishes he’d already looked at a million times over, seeing in his mind’s eye the stains of blood and that every present smile—the burn of your presence beside him like a brand in his stomach. You never seemed to let him get too far away from you on Ops, but it wasn’t some form of obsession. It was worry; he’d seen it. 
You didn’t like it when you couldn’t see his back ahead of yours. Ghost guessed it had to do with your lost unit. He never pressed it. 
In fact, he’d noticed himself not eager to see you off himself. Had spent many a night in the onsite gym after missions because of it, where he’d given you the cold shoulder after. He didn’t like that feeling. That hesitation. 
Ghost knew only to trust people as much as he had to…so why did he like when you said nice things to him? His jaw clenches, shoulders rolling to dispel tension as he rips his eyes away from your body as if you were fire incarnate. Your head perks up at the sound of talking voices getting closer to the meeting room. 
Soap and Gaz enter a few moments later and Price shuffles in behind them. You smile warmly and greet them, shifting the notepad closer to yourself nonchalantly. 
Ghost grunts and stays stationary, straightening up when he realizes he's slightly leaned toward you during your conversation. His new gloves pull taunt over his knuckles and he suddenly wants to rip them off. 
You begin to wonder when you’ll be free from blood coating your fingers but know deep down you never will be. At least, not if this was how you’d be getting covered in it.
Sitting inside the hotel bedroom, you slowly extract a blood-coated bullet from Ghost's large thigh, grimacing when he grunts from over you. You’re in between his legs, kneeling, as the metal finally breaks free from the skin barrier—the entry wound is small but nonetheless dangerous. His pants were cut from thigh to knee, a long spit that showed pale, scarred skin. 
Keeping a tight grip on the forceps, you hum under your breath in satisfaction. 
“No bullet fragments—lucky you.” 
Ghost forces out, “Yeah, feelin’ proper lucky.” You chuckle, moving back and dropping the bullet to a food plate you’d put on the floor. Shuffling, you take up the rag placed over your upper arm and bring it back up. Patting the gushing wound, you frown and think back on the events that got you here as the Lieutenant shifts and bites his tongue. 
The intensity in his blue eyes burns into you, lungs deeply inhaling with a silent breath. Your fingers tingle, but you diligently press the fabric to the wound and try to ignore the heat from Ghost’s flesh or how his legs flinch with every trail of your nails. His muscles are pure iron around you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the position you’re in. 
Swallowing stiffly, you sigh and notice him slightly shiver when your breath caresses his upper leg. You stop immediately, lips going tight.
It had been fifteen minutes earlier when Soap and Gaz had set up in a far more open and less secluded hotel three blocks away—directly across from the base location for your gaggle of targets. As planned, you and Ghost would be off the books and go in when they were too distracted by the Sergeants�� in plain sight. 
Fire was supposed to be the cover story. Go in, take care of business, and set the place alight after the area was clear of civilians. But no one was counting on the targets being surrounded by three more friends. 
Of course, guns lead to bullets and bullets to flesh. You can still hear the ringing in your head when Ghost had jerked you to the slide and shoved you behind the far wall—skull snapping back to look in horror as his leg exploded with gore. 
Fucking bastard had been distracted by you and hadn’t had time to dodge. That wasn’t Ghost, but then again, Ghosty wasn’t quite the same, was he? Least, not to you.
“You’re a fool, you know that?” You huff, something swirling in your chest as your gloves peel the layer of cut pants farther down to see better. “You should have looked after yourself.”
“And what?” Ghost grumbles, letting you do what you wanted to him.  “Let you get fuckin’ shot, Masque—you have a bloody death wish?” His last word comes off with a growl as you press tighter into his thigh. 
His hand instantaneously snaps out to grasp the back of your hair tightly with an instinctual low groan. Naturally, a small whine exits your lips in retaliation.
You both freeze and the room jumps up to a hundred degrees; your lower body flips as your skin burns a million degrees. Fingers still, you feel your breath hitch when his calloused fingers scrape your scalp, your hair in his expansive palm. It was a pure reaction you knew, and when you’d asked him to let you help out with this problem you had thought this might happen—he’s a soldier after all, just like you.
But he hadn’t denied you. If anything, since six missions back, you were the only person who he wanted to work on him. He’d never said why. 
You look up at him from the side, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Ghost’s heart skips beats before he clears his throat, snapping his hand back immediately and slamming it to the mattress. A second of strained silence settles where you both try to forget what the fuck just happened.
“Keep bloody going then,” He says, deep and grating to a point where you shove down a shiver. Your head feels light off of his scent, and you have to ask yourself why you’re feeling so feverish all of a sudden. 
You bite your lip and nod, hand moving away to grab at the sanitized needle and thread with your forceps—dropping the rag back onto your forearm to let it hang. For once in your life you’re left mute by his actions. 
Mute to the fact that you’d liked them. 
Your face burns like a hidden fire; epidermis alight with the strength to rival the flames the two of you had started fifteen minutes ago. Lungs stutter and hands inside the gloves go clammy. It’s only after you were halfway done with the stitches that you mutter words.
“Shouldn’t have taken that bullet, Ghost.” He had been stone still the entire time, hands clenched beside him and his thighs like rocks. Feet firmly planted. It was like he was barely breathing, too. 
Ghost blankly stares, staying quiet as you continue. 
“You were distracted. That never happens.” His form was almost entirely shadowing you; great spanning shoulders from above tight like a looming statue. You dig the needle deeper with a push of the forceps, threading through yielding skin with quick punctures. He doesn’t even flinch. 
Ever since ‘07, there was an obvious aversion to partners stemming from you. You distanced yourself from forming close bonds with those who you hadn’t already known. In many ways, Ghost and the others of One-Four-One were the closest you could get to people now.
Ghost, you admit, was far closer than all the others combined. 
But this sentiment was known—both the aversion and the care you held. The Lieutenant wasn’t good with words, but he knew how to read you better than anyone; the way you carried yourself. He knew you didn’t like it when he got hurt in front of you. 
Ghost had to ask why he even bothered to shove you out of the way, regardless. You would have been fine. So why had his eyes gone wide and his iris flared with a dead glow when he’d seen the gun swivel in your direction? The man grunts at a deep dig from your sutures but you continue to mutter to yourself as he glares at the far wall, venom-like. 
His sin was that he had grown to care about you. His burden and his curse. 
This couldn’t continue. 
Ghost looks down at you with a sheen of distanced nonchalant-ness and when you lent back with a sigh of your lips, his body moved. You blink in surprise as you feel his muscles bunch and before you know it you’re being grabbed harshly by the arms and lightly shoved to the side. 
“Ghost!” You snap, eyes narrowing dangerously as he stands to his feet—blood training down his thigh and kneecap before disappearing back under the stained cargos. “What the fuck?! I’m not done with it.” 
Attempting to stomp closer, he swivels his head to you as his spine goes formal. Your feet stall from under you and your veins pump faster, forceps and slick gloves freezing mid-air. 
You blink. He’d only ever looked at you like that when you’d first met. 
Blue is a silent sheen of ice and cold death; black sockets behind his mask are more like voids holding chilled sapphires. 
Why was he looking at you like he didn’t know you? Once more you say, confused and suddenly small, “Ghost?” 
“Enough.” His voice was monotone and barky, the tone final. Your fingers tense at the sound. What…what was this? “You need to get your head back on, Masque. I can’t watch over you like a bloody Private every time you get stiff-legged, copy?” 
Your jaw slackens. Inside, your heart smashes itself into your ribs in a violent pang. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence in which Ghost remains standing with concrete tied to his feet. He sees the flash of confused hurt in your eyes, the way your muscles jump for a moment.
A suffocating wave of regret strikes him, but he felt like he had to do this—keep up boundaries. Even if his throat was closing in an attempt to make him shut up. 
Ghost’s accent makes him sound harsh and unforgiving. “Price’ll need us back in fifteen. Get your shit together.” 
He bends down and snatches bandages with a quick hand, beelining to the bathroom and closing the door with a firm hand. Blankly, you stare at the barrier as the wall rattles; face burning—unable to speak beyond a small sound in the back of your mouth. 
The two of you stay separated for the remainder of the time, not speaking, and not moving from your respective areas. 
When Ghost finally leaves ten minutes after he’d pushed back the self-loathing and guilt, freshly bandaged, he finds your stuff already gone. He glances around the area slowly, taking in the wails of the fire trucks from blocks away and the neighboring rooms of the hotel as residents speak in mutters from behind walls. The air is cold and lifeless. 
He grabs his things in total silence, swallowing down saliva paired with long breaths. Ghost’s eyes remain tight. Body wound and coated in rigidity that could rival a rhino’s armored plates.
Mind whirling, but still ever mute, he leaves the hotel and heads to the coordinates Price had given the two of you alone. The absence of your warm body beside his was more jarring than anything he’d expected to experience.
Ghost didn’t want to admit how many times his eyes trailed to the empty concrete at his left.
When you lose something in someone, you tend to lose it hard. Thus still, that was the case here. Ghost and you always jabbed at each other—it was in your nature to do so—but this was different. The Lieutenant could be cold, but…never to the extent to shove you away from helping him with his wounds. 
Both of you always did that with the other, if that be physically or just being in the same room, while getting fixed up. 
If Ghost didn’t want you around for whatever rage-inducing reason, you weren't going to grovel or beg. The sudden switch-up still stabbed you in the heart though. 
On the second week, it got easier. 
You passed by Ghost without a single comment, shifting into the meeting room once more. He grunts as you shimmy through the door right before him, his feet halting before he runs into you. 
“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Masque, you lost your bloody eyes or something?” You don’t answer, blankly walking to the end of the table and taking the single chair with steady steps; sitting down and dragging a notepad to your general area. 
Blinking, you look up at the projection and skim the small details they give over. 
Ghost stares from the doorway, clenching his jaw. After a moment, he slips inside and slowly strides to the table. 
The days had been difficult for him, struggling to re-situate himself to his isolation after you’d been with him for years. Sure he had Johnny, Gaz, and Price, but you were…
Ghost places a veiny hand on the back of a chair about four down from yours, knuckles white as he’d shed his gloves not five minutes ago. His eyes stay stuck to the tabletop, hips shifting. He hadn’t thought it would be this hard to push you out. Not only physically but mentally. 
He found himself thinking of your face at night. Like a phantom, it would snap into his consciousness when the lights went out and the shadows got long. Your smile and your skin. How your fingers would gently press into his flesh when you were threading a needle through him—shivers of pleasure and pain intertwined by the scrape of your nails. 
Ghost’s hand tightens on the chair, and you spare him a tense glance as he seemingly fights within his mind. 
The Lieutenant wonders at your willpower and your drive. He spent the weeks hating that he had gotten what he wanted, and then he hated himself more because of that fact. It was good to keep you away from him. Not only for himself but for you. 
You both were becoming too….attached. Ghost would have none of it. It had bled over into him using his own body to protect yours that was just…was just…
“...Those new tags, then?” You look away from the screen and shift your gaze to him as his voice bounces. 
Around your neck, the new reflective metal of your new dog tags glint. Your heart skips when he speaks to you, but he still doesn’t look your way.
“That an apology?” Deadpanning, your unimpressed gaze glares into his face as his hand strangles the chair. 
The room returns to strained silence. You huff.
“Pretty shitty one there, asshat.” Ghost’s shoulders roll under his gear, a great sigh quickly exiting him. Everyone had noticed the tension over time—it was becoming a detriment to the team.
The Lieutenant’s blue eyes darken, and in his body, a great heat was beginning to burn. Just looking at you provoked lucid and vulgar thoughts, and as the dim light from the projector makes shadows on your face, Ghost traces them with a chained desire. Being away from you was a physical pain to him, but he also knew that being around you was worse. 
All of Ghost’s problems may have started and ended with you, but they also grew in his own head. They’d been there in the back corners ever since he’d given you your nickname; found out he liked the way your face was wet with spilled blood and sweat. Your body. Your hands on the hard flesh of his upper thigh…trailing up... 
Ghost’s pants get tight as he stares without saying anything. Watching you scribble on your notepad. Glaring. 
“Why can’t I get you out of my fucking head?” Your ears twitch at the low growl as if coming from a beast; seconds later, your brain catches up to process the words. Your pen stops its pointless scrawling just as your breath does. Ghost spits out, seeing your form straighten in the chair, “Every bloody thought, you’re right there!” 
His boots stomp to the floor, and before you know it a hand is trapping the back of your head, fingers carding through hair to angle your chin up. Your breath gasps out as your wide eyes lock on Ghost’s, his hold tight but not uncomfortable; as if he knows the perfect amount of pressure to make your blood surge and your pupils expand.
You stare into volatile blue with silver flecks, a skeletal mask stained from dirt and blood. Ghost’s thumb digs into your scalp. 
“Answer me, Masque,” he grunts, accent so thick you momentarily struggle to string the words together in your stupor. 
Ghost’s nose is close to yours; breathing in each other’s air as the temperature rises. Your throat bobs with a swallow. Below you, you feel your legs clench together as the Lieutenant's fingers lightly pull on your roots when you don’t respond—small sparks of electricity run down your spine that make it straighten instinctually. A soft purr flies from your lips; face on fire as your lashes flutter. Your hands clench at the dull pulse in your lower body.
The Brit’s dead eyes stare down at you, glinting; studying you deeply with growing satisfaction in his heart and tension in his boxers. 
You both glare half-lidded, panting, and flesh heated. 
“Is this your apology?” He tightens his hand and you bite your lip, small whine meeting his ears as he represses a groan at the sound. Your voice was breathy but smug. 
“You fucking wanted this, you naughty little beast,” Ghost growls, moving even closer to tower over you. “You’re playin’ me.” You mold into him as you still sit in your chair, your chin set onto his upper abdomen as the midsection of your breasts presses into his crotch; brushing against his hardened bulge firmly. 
You shiver at the feeling, your core leaking out slippery fluids to stain through your pants one second at a time. Every twitch of his fingers leaves you wanting to arch into him. Feel him.
Ghost feels your hands go to wrap his open thighs, nails digging into the back of his pants as his mouth opens under the mask to force out air. 
“You liked me in between your legs, didn’t you?” Your tiny, teasing, voice serenades him as he quickly begins to lose control of his composure. 
“Shut it,” Ghost grunts, mind yelling at him to move away, “Shut your damn mouth.” 
Those pupils were so wide his eyes were almost entirely black, feral chest moving quickly. 
“I already know why you snapped at me…” One of your hands travels back to the Lieutenant’s front, skin tingling at the scratch of a belt and the rough fabric of his cargos. You leave it over his crotch and add a tight amount of pressure; mouth lightly opening at the weight and size of him as Ghost grunts deeply, thighs jerking forward. 
Blinking at his glassy eyes you breathe out into thick air and the veiled threat of something more. His hand in your hair is so tight that you feel your pulse under the tendrils—you enjoy every second of this cat-and-mouse game. 
After all, no one knew who the mouse was yet.
You rub your hand up and down and watch Ghost’s clothed dick, feeling his muscles straining to keep himself in control. He lets you continue as he watches with a clenched jaw, his pants getting gradually wet with precum; hips twitching. 
“...You can’t get enough of me touching you, can you?” Your statement ignites something immediately, and you’re being grabbed by your shoulders and forced to your feet. 
Staring wildly, you cringe at the soaking patch under your clothes but let Ghost place your backside on the table. He presses into your hips to keep you there—legs opened and feet planted to the floor below on their tip-toes.
The man breathes like a lion, nose in front of yours. You slightly smirk at the far-off haze in his eyes, lust and pleasure blending and bleeding into the almost bruising hold he uses to press you down.
He watches you for a minute or two—taking in your scent and the rabid instinct that infects the both of you now that everything was on the table. 
You knew you were right; he knew you were right. Licking your lips you look down and stare at his blatant hard-on hungrily. Your brow raises slowly.
“You going to let me take care of that, Ghosty?” He’s up and locking the door after he slims it shut.
“This is it,” Ghost grunts, “one time, Masque. That’s fucking it, you hear?” 
“Awe,” You cue, swishing your legs as he stomps back over, hand grasping his belt and whipping it off with a flex of his forearm. Your core tightens, hips trying to press back into the table. “That's so cute. You think once is enough.” 
A hand captures your jaw, “I said,” he breathes, the other hand going to shift up the bottom of his mask up to his nose. You gasp at the sight of blond stubble and milky scars. A strong jaw wound like a spring. Ghost’s musk invades your nose and you feel your palms so clammy. “...Shut it.”
Hard lips slam into yours.
Like some game between the two of you, your mouths fight one another with aggressive grunts stuck in your throats, sharp inhales of air between partings. Ghost’s lips mold and conform to yours, clinging around the supple flesh—there’s a deep-rooted intensity, a hunger, and a desire mixed with sweet stubbornness. The tang of metal and old canvas opens to you just as your mouth does when his teeth bite down at your skin.
Quickly sucking down breaths, you feel his tongue push past layers and slip into your awaiting clutch; Ghost groans lowly and explores as his hands bare down into your hips, one making its way to grip at your hair again. Your own dig into his waist as he leans over you. 
He latches onto your hair and peels you back from him, tongue sliding out of your mouth as he moves to nip at your chin—angling your head whichever way he wants to. Your skin burns as the man bites down at your neck, hot saliva stuck to your lips as your chest pants fast with a low whine at the mixture of pain and bliss. 
Below you, your legs are wide to allow Ghost to stand between you, his firmness leaving your hips canting at every hickey he leaves behind and how he shivers into you as you move against him. It was addicting to him—your taste and how your flesh yields to him as he clamps down on it ruthlessly and rapidly. In no time he’d traveled the length of the area behind your ear and down the swell of your shoulder; shirt pushed back by his nose.
“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, eyes glassy as you blankly stare into the far wall over the Lieutenant’s shoulder; your panties are soaked through and the evidence can be felt. A long whine exits your chest when Ghost licks at the deep marks he left behind, blown eyes coming back to stare at you head-on as if in a trance.
His lips are red and swollen, mouth open with silent, fast, breaths. His large chest moves quickly over yours. He orders you in a hoarse voice; strained, “Get on your knees.” 
Licking your lips your widened gaze stays locked on his, the hand in your hair tight and keeping you away from slamming your mouth back to his. The air is electric, both of your bodies yielding to one another's even if you don’t realize it. 
As much as you wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at the comment, to make him apologize to you for what he’s done, you realize that your body has already complied with the request. Slipping off the table, Ghost watches like a hawk and backs up two steps—feet splayed as you move for him. Your knees slowly lower you down to the floor, connecting with the carpet as you sag, fists clenched and shaking. 
There’s a small, heart-pounding, pause. “...Good girl.”
Your jaw drops at the smirk on Ghost’s face and those flashing dead eyes of his, blood thumping with a newly ingrained need. You swallow and feel your throat bob; legs shifting to push back the inner-body itch that grows by the second. 
“Now you can listen to me, yeah? Such a slut for it.” Ghost’s hands slowly trail to his pant’s zipper, sliding the piece down the teeth with barely audible metal on metal. Your fingers twitch at every small pop; how the zipper itself had to move forward with the strain of his sizable erection. You can’t even look away from it—how his pants are stiff against tense thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up to show the black ink of tattoos.
Ghost had tattoos. 
When the teeth had run out and the man’s hands grappled for the waistband of both his cargo and his boxers, you’d found out you’d been staring the entire time, pupils so wide they matched Ghost’s and the black stain of his face-paint. 
“Fuckin’ hell, Masque,” he grunts, knuckles white and going still, “bet your pretty little cunt is soaked and I ‘aven’t even shown you my bloody dick yet, eh? Well, the thing’ll ‘ave to wait, I’m puttin’ that mouth to good use first. Teaching it who to listen to.”
You startle back, blinking away the burning heat on your cheeks that leaves you uncharacteristically stuttering at the vulgar degradation. But Ghost doesn’t notice, doing what he can to move the various straps along his thighs and his upper hips to be able to free himself quickly—eager and dripping to be down your throat. 
The throat and mouth he’d fantasized about for ages. 
Stiffing down a whiny moan, you finally see the veiny girth of Ghost’s cock as it comes free over the top of the tight white cotton of his boxers; a happy trail extending up his visible abdomen when his wrist snatches it out. 
“Put to good use?” You breathe out, “Christ, you’re going to make me fucking mute, Ghosty.” 
“Well, Sweetheart,” he breathes a sigh of relief as he plays with the leaking tip with his thumb. Your hands itch to brush against your achy clit, the pressure in your chest almost enough to make you sob at the sheer nothingness. Sweat glistens over your forehead. Eyes glare at you as you watch thighs tense and loosen. “That’ll be fine by me. Don’t need you speaking when I’m paintin’ your damn cunt with my cum, do I?” 
Jesus, you both were in the fucking meeting room. Going to fuck in the meeting room. 
You lick your lips and stare as Ghost stalks close again, gripping your chin and opening your jaw with his thumb and first finger. His dick was right in front of you, and you can smell sex and sweat like an animalistic aphrodisiac as it coats your brain with lust as you moan out. 
Your arms tense with a want to reach and touch it, watch as Ghost falls apart below the twist of your wrist. It was so addictive you feel yourself clench at the visual, your body shivering violently. 
“Oi, fucking focus.” Your tongue sneaks out and licks Ghost’s finger and he feels his grip tighten on you with a puff of hot air. “Little brat.” 
He stares into your mouth and breathes deeply as a smirk peels the edges of your lip. Blue swirls with anticipation. 
“Keep it open, then.” Ghost’s hand drops from you and you easily keep your mouth open as his hand goes back to his cock, grasping it firmly as the other finds the top of your head. You shiver and shift your thighs under you, your body striking like a drum to oxycontin and adrenaline. “That’s a girl…” The Lieutenant growls, and the tip of his dick slips into your saliva-dripping mouth with hidden fever. “Fuck.” 
Your eyes flutter at the taste, letting him maneuver your face closer to the base as your hands snap to his thighs—nails digging in and eliciting a sharp inhale as you press into the two-week-old wound under his pants. Ghost curses under his breath but watches in flooding pleasure at the image of his cock disappearing farther and farther into you. Inch by inch you tell yourself to breathe through your nose; feeling the make of his veins and the mushroomed tip traveling farther and farther back. 
Moaning in the base of your neck, Ghost instinctually jerks his hips at the sound, feral grunts trapped in his chest. Your eyes go wide with the prickle of tears, not from pain but from the surprise as you gag. His hold on your hair tightens and you mewl as he continues to lose himself to the feeling of your wet heat. 
He was so big it was like your throat was ripping new sinews just for him, and you reveled in every moment of the feeling of his predatory gaze.
“So bloody tight for me—can’t wait to be in that cunt of yours…can’t be better than this. Have to test it.” He talks more when he’s horney. 
Slightly gagging again at the sheer size, his palming hand presses you deeper and you take him as well as you’re able, still space between your nose and his pelvis as your knees dig harder into the ground. Ghost groans gutturally, head slightly lulling back and panting like a dog, looking down at your red eyes and far-off gaze. Your hands kneed his upper thighs and he smirks slowly. 
Without another word and with sweat staining him under his uniform, bits and bobs from his gear start to clink together and dance as his hips set a rough pace; you find your head being puppeteered back and forth with his thrusts as your scalp flames from his hold. Tears burn immediately.
“Yeah, that’s it—such a good little slut for me, Masque. Gettin’ it down, fuck,” Ghost pants, as you hollow your cheeks, back arching into you and leaving your nostrils flaring to take down air for your spasming lungs. The sight above you was sinful. 
Your Lieutenant in full gear, pants and skin-tight boxers stretching and shoved down just under the clutch of his crotch. With every back-and-forth motion, the zipper grazes the underside of your engorged throat as every vein can be undoubtedly seared into your esophagus like a brand. 
Ghost’s eyes flutter and flinch, but never once does his hazy gaze leave your mouth as he continues to jerk your head back and forth. Saliva drips drown your chin and the nearly painful burn in your navel lets you know how true this was a relief not only for Ghost but for you as well. You wanted to touch yourself, but you can’t stop touching the Brit—not for a second. Shit, you think you could fall apart just by looking at this; you were sure Ghost was thinking the same thing. 
“Look at that, makin’ such a fucking mess of you.” His abdomen tightens and rolls with every jerk and rut, and your eyes roll back with a deep whine in the back of your throat when he hits the back of your throat. Sweat splatters down your temple as the air is steeped with animalistic desperation. Ghost whines thickly in answer and seems to speed up as your hands claw at his thighs. “You like that, pet? Huh? Being my little cock-sleeve.” 
Your nails dig deeper into his flesh and he shivers wildly; eyes flash at the sight of himself disappearing into you and exiting just after as the slap of wet skin reverberates. The tension in his chest increases and he starts to desperately kneed at your hair. 
“If I’d known you’d take it down like this, I’d-I’d have made you hate me sooner, yeah?” Tension fizzles up his jaw and you know he’s close by how he bites down into his lip and tilts his head back. 
Instinctual tears travel down your sweat-slick face, the thought of being used like this vulgar and as dirty as the sounds that echo in your throat and strike down your spine. 
“Fucking hell,” Ghost gasps, and his pace stutters as he twists your locks. Your teeth graze along his flesh as you dig your thumb into his wound to steady yourself. Whining loudly, the action seems to get to the man using your mouth for his pleasure, as not three rough thrusts later the warm feeling of his cum splatters the back of your throat in thick, hot, spurts. 
Choking for a moment, the widening of your eyes meets Ghost’s fluttering lashes from above. His free hand goes behind you to slam onto the tabletop; back curved over you as he shakes and sputters as he rides out his high. 
Cum drips out of the seams of your stretched lips, and with a deep breath through your nose, your hand lowers from Ghost’s thighs as you carefully pull your face back from his pelvis. The sensation of his cock leaving your mouth and bringing saliva and his fluids with it was animalistic at best, they spill to the floor and off of your chin like a small river. 
Licking your lips, you swallow what you can and try to catch your breath as your chest rages. Blinking rapidly, your eye twitches as you bring a hand up to your sore and ragged throat, Ghost’s heaving body stiff and hunched as he stares at the table blankly. Sweat dribbles down the side of his nose, sneaking out from under the top side of his mask. 
There’s a long minute of nothingness as you both try to breathe and understand the gravity of what you’ve both done. And then you both lock eyes and stare. 
The air stills over as Ghost’s large pupils stare at the mess on your face—seeing it drip down your throat as you tilt your chin up to him. His chest purrs like a cat and you don’t even think he realizes that he does it. 
Two seconds later you’re being manhandled up to the top of the table, backside hitting it as a hand goes to your belt. Lips connect with yours and groan at the taste, the clinking of metal hitting your ears as you submit to his prodding tongue as it licks along your inner flesh. 
Your fingers snap to trail around Ghost’s neck, moaning into him as he slips his hands into your pants, pulling back and ordering, “Up.” Eager and filled with lust, you raise your legs and he rips them down to your knees, dragging you closer to the edge. 
“Good girl.” He smirks, black-smeared eyes creased. If you could speak you’d tell him to shut up and fuck you already. 
Your slick skin meets the air and you gasp, Ghost’s hands waste no time trailing up the flesh of your hips, pitching to make you jump. Glaring, you try to drag him back into you but he’s built like stone, clicking his tongue. When his fingers collect the fluids that drip out of you, you whimper at the stimulation—two calloused fingers getting entranced by that as they stop at your clit. You stare desperately into amused blue eyes as he pressed deep, your thighs tensing as they jerk. 
“Any more of this and you’ll stain the table, won’t you, Sweetheart? I get you this worked up, yeah? Bloody hell.” You pant, and lines form on your forehead at the indecent circling of his fingers; not being gentle as he sees your mouth open and your lungs gasp. Sharp spikes form in your thighs, and they move in tandem with Ghost. “Look at that…” 
Deep chuckles mock you, but you both know this has to be fast—and with how worked up you were, it would be. 
“Alright, then, brat,” Ghost takes his hand away and you whimper before he grunts and grips you by the shoulders. Your lust turns to confusion. “Suppose you did well. Let’s make this quick, eh? Got work to do.” 
Flipped around, you squeak as your clothed chest meets the table, ass presented as your feet scramble to connect with the floor. Surprised, you whip your head to the side to stare back at a highly smug Ghost as one of his hands goes to grab onto your supple flesh, massaging it before it sneaks to your hip. 
“Easy with it, I’ll take care of you, Masque.” In little to no time he’s lining himself up with your dripping pussy, so wet it’s easy except for the fact that he’s huge enough to make you mute by a blowjob. Your back arches into the table with a long moan as the length slowly spears you open, instinctually widening your legs as best as you’re able. 
Closing your eyes, you press one of your hands to your mouth to stifle your noises, thighs spasming as Ghost curses under his breath; gear clinking into each other.
“So bloody tight.” With a swift thrust and a knock of your pelvis to the edge of the table, your eyes burn with the feeling of holding Ghost in your most intimate area and the knowledge that he would completely wreck it for anyone else. Your lungs fight for air, but a long mewl exits your fingers as the man shakes over you with restraint. “Christ.”
Tight wasn’t the way to describe it—you were like a fucking noose. Your sensitive walls know every vein and bulge, the scrape and dig, far more intimately than your throat ever could. Like a carved stamp, they’re reforming to Ghost’s dick every second. 
Tapping the side of your forehead to the table, the man can’t help himself anymore and starts to thrust into you; feral squelching and fluids staining the top of his pants. Your face burns, the rocking of the table hypnotic as your toes fight to stay on the ground. The sensation of being so full truthfully made your mind go blank, fingers twitching as Ghost continued to palm at your hip—his other hand going to press into your spine, keeping you stapled to the table. 
His gear slammed and rubbed into your ass, bruising it no doubt, but you found you didn’t care at all. Pleasure rocked down with every ruthless intrusion. 
“Can feel ya ‘round my cock,” you keen at the words, tears dribbling down the side of your face as you try to hold back sobs of pleasure. Ghost increases his pace, rabid slapping echoing off the walls as he feels his sole focus on your mind-shattering bliss. “Can’t have ‘em hear how loud you are, now, can we? Can’t let ‘em know I’m shagging you in their meeting room like a little fucktoy, eh?” 
He angles his hips higher, pushing your farther up the table as his hands only drag you back. Every moment leaves your core tightening even more; molten heat pooling as the edge gets closer. 
Footsteps echo down the hall outside, but both of you are too focused on the other and the ache that only increases like a pair of cuffs. Your mouth lets loose insistent gasps and moans while Ghost breathily groans at every other interval of his ravaging cock as it brushes your cervix. 
You whine loudly, spine arching and legs desperately trying to close. Ghost chuckles and your reaction spurs him on—hitting that same spot over and over again as you sob. 
“Right there, yeah? That it, Masque?” You nod rapidly, and the Lieutenant's grip tightens with a loud grunt, “Fuck, that’s it, bloody slut.” 
The coil in your gut gets tighter, shining with desperate shakes of your body and the numb way you try to meet Ghost’s thrusts before you entirely lose the plot of reality. 
“You’re close,” he breathes, feeling your pussy trying to keep him in, slick trailing down the insides of your thighs and transferring to the Brit’s clothes. His boxers were soaked. “C’mon, then. Don’t disappoint me, Masque. Lemme see you cum on my cock before I fill you up like the good girl you are, yeah?”
Your body spasms, thighs tensing and toes curling at the floor; fingers scratching down the table as you press over your mouth harder in a last-ditch effort to remain in control of yourself. The coil snaps and suddenly you’re digging your forehead into the wood below you, orgasm ripping through you like a knife as cum paints Ghost’s dick as he continues his relentless chase of his second release.
“There it is, fuck, look at all that, Love. Paintin’ me like a naughty fuckin’ portrait.” Ghost gasps, a hand coming up to connect to the table by your head, feeling you completely flood his pelvis—he doesn’t stop even when you whine in overstimulation, fucked-out eyes wide and mouth dripping drool into a small pool. The milky ring at his root grows and grows. With a loud moan, he looks down and watches the vulgar sight rabidly, pounding into your heat as his own end gets closer and closer. 
“Shite,” His forehead hits your spine, taking the skin into his teeth and biting hickeys as his open mouth leaves trails of saliva. “Took me so bloody well, cunt was made just for me.” 
His body shakes and with one last shove from his hips, he spills into you with a loud whimper muffled into your flesh. Teeth biting down so hard that you moan in turn, the spent releases dribble out of you like a stuffed bird. You feel his chest atop you as he places his weight slowly down; the fast-panting mirroring your own. 
Sweat connects the two of you as it bleeds through your clothes, the smell in the air and the scent of delirious sex staining your bodies. 
Your mouth remains open and hoarse, scraped dry. Ghost above you moves delicately as he pulls back up, moving back to peel your messy hair away from your blown eyes. After a moment his small voice hits you—the accent deep. 
“All good?” Your eyes slowly rove to him as he kisses your forehead, shivering violently as he slips out of you; the wet drip of cum hits the carpet in the still silence as you whimper at the feeling. “...Masque?”
Dull concern emanates from his tone and you blink back. You clear your throat and utter in a torn voice, “...P-pretty good apology, Ghosty…S…shit.” 
Smugness burns in his orbs, but the roll of his eyes hides it quickly. The puff of his chest couldn’t be hidden from you, though. 
His hands reach down and hike up your panties and cargos—both items completely wrecked. The large splotch on Ghost’s own clothes showed you that you weren't alone in that aspect. 
As he carefully flips your limp form back over and pulls you up by your arms, you groan in annoyance but shut up when his hands go to zip your zipper and clip back your belt. 
“Couldn’t have had a revelation in your barracks room?” You huff, itching at your throat. “You’re buying me cough drops, you ass.” The state of your voice was laughable. Anyone would know what happened if they spoke to you. 
Ghost sighs and begins with his own clothes, stuffing himself back into his boxers and growling at the chilled fluids on his pants as he pulls them back up. He goes and retrieves his belt before walking back. 
“Acting like you weren’t beggin’ for it.” He slides you a smirk before he grabs onto his mask and begins to cover his jaw. 
Your hand snaps out and stops him. Ghost startles, eyes flashing before his muscles stiffen. You raise a brow and he slightly calms. 
Scoffing, you lean in and place a final kiss on his lips—a tinier and tender kiss. Gaze wide, the man stares off as his heart starts to beat fast again at the firm press. After you’re done your hand goes up and grasps the fabric yourself, carefully re-shrouding the mystery of a man with a smile. 
He watches blankly.
“We okay?” You ask, tilting your head as your lower body aches when you shift on the table. “I miss my annoyingly gruff Ghost. This new one’s a jerk.” A small laugh graces your ears, and it makes you beam. “I know why you did it,” you admit, and hold out a hand between your bodies. “But pushing me away will only hurt the both of us. Let's try this, Ghost. Please.” 
“...You’re makin’ it seem like a good deal, Love…is it?” He holds out a hand of his own, large and scarred hands that had gripped you so tight before utterly loose and awaiting. 
“No clue,” you admit with a smirk, “Wanna figure it out?” Ghost watches as he always does and always will, searching into your eyes for any hint of hesitance or denial. 
“Always liked a challenge.” He grunts and encompasses his hand with yours. You squeeze it and nod, chest light as your normal breath comes back.
“You know what a real challenge is? Trying to take down your fucking dic—” The meeting room handle jiggles and you both snap into action. 
Ghost tosses you your notepad and you slide a shoved-away chair his way on shaky legs, slipping into a free seat with failing knees. You both sit side by side on the opposite side of the table, shoulders bumping and faces hot not three seconds later. Ears twitch at the sound of a key entering the slot. 
You try to act normal and begin messing around with your notepad, stealing a pen from Ghost’s gear as Price opens the door. At the sight of the two of you, he pauses and stands in the doorway.
“Ghost…Masque.” With a squint, Price looks around the room slowly, confused at the rod-straight spine from his Lieutenant and the way you awkwardly scribble nothing onto your pad. 
“Price,” Ghost utters as you look up and fake smile, waving as you tighten your hips under the table in an attempt to hide the evidence spilling out of you. 
The Captain continues to stare, scrutiny in his eyes, for at least a full minute. 
“Problem, then?” The Lieutenant asks. Price’s lips thin and he gains a sheen of deep annoyance. You groan under your breath and knock your head to the table at the next comment.
“In the fucking meeting room?!”
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kissracing · 2 months ago
Text
Everyone’s favorite, carlos sainz jr,
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summary. various instagram posts from the goddess, beautiful, multi-talented, writer, yn ln &&. her husband carlos sainz jr.
featuring. carlos sainz jr x fem!poc!reader (faceclaim, orion carloto)
this fic includes the following. . . yn &&. carlos are married, google-translated spanish, read the end for more info!!
yourusername • instagram
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liked by alexandrasaintmleux, carlossainz55, and others
yourusername Love life 🖼️🍒💍
♥︎ 764k 💬 65.8k ➢
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carlossainz55 📌 Cielo mío ❤️
⤷ yourusername Mi viejo 🤍
⤷ carlossainz55 VIEJO? Oh please 🙄😐 I’m 3 years older than you.
user MY PARENTSSSS
user mama y papa
landonorris Who took that photo of you two at the gallery..???
⤷ yourusername … No comment
⤷ landonorris It was the camera timer huh
⤷ yourusername Blocked.
user they’re so aesthetically pleasing
user WHERE ARE THE RINGS FROMMM
⤷ yourusername The clock & flower looking one are from a thrift store in spain! The other ones are from my wonderful in-laws 🫶🏼🤍
⤷ user AHHH you actually replied HEHE
user they compliment each other so well oh em gee
user the day they got married, lives were changed fr
user the beautiful, gorgeous, multi-talented, yn ln-sainz 😍😍 and carlos ig
alexandrasaintmleux The prettiest 💞💐 We must go to a gallery together!!
⤷ yourusername Says you??? 🤨😭🤍 And yes we must haha!
yourusername • instagram
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liked by landonorris, carmenmundt, and others
yourusername It’s a work in progress :) ☕️
♥︎ 802k 💬 78k ➢
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user 📌 one thing yn will do.. is make sure her feed matches LOL
⤷ user SHE PINNED MY COMMENT ARHEHEHD
carlossainz55 📌 Mi bella esposa 🫶🏼🌷
⤷ yourusername Mi guapo marido 🫶🏼💐
user SHES WRITING CHAT. WE’RE GETTING A NEW BOOK
user the brown aesthetic >>>
user your handwriting is so gorgeous im so sick
user carlosyn supremacy
landonorris Oh so no photo credits 🤨⁉️
⤷ user LANDO YOU WENT WITH THEM??
⤷ landonorris YES and it was the worst “hangout” of my life 😒 They were just on each other.. so gross. They have no compassion for single people
⤷ carlossainz55 ?? You tagged along after seeing us in the coffee shop, That’s your fault cabrón 😂
⤷ yourusername Plus, we paid for your food and shoes that you wanted !!
⤷ landonorris SHUSHH THEY WERENT SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAAT
⤷ yourusername … Okay 😭?
user lando’s their son fr
user MOTHER
alexandrasaintmleux Who’s the gorgeous girl in the first slide 💘
⤷ yourusername Love you Alexx 👩🏼‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏼
text messages • yn &&. carlos
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yourusername • instagram
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liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, and others
yourusername Welcome my favorite addition to the Ln-Sainz family!! Milo Ln-Sainz. 💘🥺💌 Thank you Carlito
♥︎ 893k 💬 62.6k ➢
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carlossainz55 📌 As long as you’re happy, I’m happy Mi Corazon
⤷ yourusername Oh how did I get so lucky 🥹
⤷ carlossainz55 I ask myself that everyday ❤️
⤷ user CON😭GRA😭TU😭LA😭TIONS😭
user GREY CARR
alex_albon All I’m hearing is… PLAYDATE!! 🗣️
⤷ maxverstappen1 NO I MEANT TO CALL DIBS FIRST!!
⤷ yourusername Gentlemen, no need to fight!! We’ll all have a playdate together 🥺🤍
user OH MY GODDD MY SHAYLA 🥹🥹🥹
user he’s so eepy oh my god 😭😭😭🤏🏽
⤷ yourusername Best napping partner 🥹
user please tell me yall are gonna make an instagram for him
maxverstappen1 Jimmy, Sassy and Donatello are extremely excited to meet their new friend Milo 🙂‍↕️
⤷ alex_albon Stan, Blue bear, Gigi, Hippo, Tiger, Duckie, Goosie, Frooky, MooMoo, Looky, Sasha, and Gucci are ALSO extremely excited to meet Milo 🙃!
⤷ maxverstappen1 Did you really name all of your cats to prove a point?
⤷ alex_albon …Yes
user max and alex fighting over milo is the best thing LMAO
user He’s so cute 🙁🙁
carlossainz55 • instagram
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carlossainz55 Escapada con Mi esposa 🩷
♥︎ 1.1M 💬 72.6k ➢
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yourusername 📌 Best trip ever 🤍 Thank you Mi marido
⤷ carlossainz55 You’re welcome cariño 🩷
user MY SHAYLA 😖😖😫😫
user THE SECOND SLIDEEE
user She’s everything.. and he’s ken
⤷ carlossainz55 Exactly
user literally how is she so perfect
user pinterest girlies finna go CRAZY
⤷ pinterest Can confirm, We’re going crazy!
user God.. it’s me again 😫
user SHES SO GORGEOUSS
user YALL LOOKIN FOR A THIRD
⤷ carlossainz55 Nope!
alexandrasaintmleux Bring her back! We (Milo, and I) miss her!!
⤷ lilymhe Count me too, quit holding her hostage Sainz!!
⤷ carlossainz55 Did I hear “extend our vacation to another week?” I mean if you say so!
⤷ lilymhe YNNN @yourusername
⤷ yourusername Ooh sorry Alex and Lils.. I’ll take that extended vacation.. Love you guys tho!! Kiss Milo for me!!
⤷ alexandrasaintmleux Carlos Sainz Jr, you will pay.
⤷ lilymhe I’ll see you in williams Sainz Jr.
user the first photo 😩>>
user I WANT THIS KIND OF LOVE PLEASEE
yourusername I love you Carlito 💘
⤷ carlossainz55 I love you so much more hermosa 💐💝
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amera speaks. 2ND FIC!! and first fic for the new year!! yippee :D. i really didn’t know wtf to title this LMAO. i searched the web a little bit to figure out what orion’s ethnicity is. i know she said that she’s half hondurian from her mothers side which would make her latina(?). i also read that she’s half italian & portuguese. i only say this because i have “poc!reader” and i just wanna make sure that orion herself is a poc. let me know if i should change it!! i wanna be accurate as possible <3. okay BYE!
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akawifeyy · 17 days ago
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lovestruck | smau pt.3 (AKA12)
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description: a month after the hate messages sent to you by an anonymous account, you've begun the process of repairing the damage. the first step? reconnecting with kimi antonelli.
tropes: best friend's little sister, childhood friends, one-sided love, ob87 sister!reader
face claim: daniela avanzini
trigger warnings: suggestive content, hate speech (misogyny & covert death threats), swearing
| note: awee i love em 🥰 also this is part 3 / 3 fics!
pt.1 pt.2 pt.3
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comments (10357):
@ user1: tbh, it's a toss up. after all the scrutiny and hate, i wouldn't be surprised if y/n never showed her face again in public for fear of backlash. which is wild, bc she didn't even do anything wrong
-> @ user2: It just goes to show you how insane some F1 "fans" are.
@ user3: Even before all of this, Y/N was private. She's not coming out of her shell, and if she does, it's going to be months down the road.
@ user4: the belgian GP might be a good time for her to return, but i doubt that she will
-> @ user5: She usually posts GP pics, I'd be surprised if she broke that pattern (even though she technically already did)
Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (2025):
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@ f1spotted: Haas driver Ollie Bearman and Mercedes driver Kimi Antonelli took photos with a fan last night in Belgium before the Grand Prix!
tagged: @ f1, @ f1gossip
comments (94):
@ user6: Where's Y/N 😕 We miss her
-> @ user7: she's like a ghost
@ user8: starting to think I imagined Y/N's existence because what do you mean she hasn't been seen or talked to by anyone for the past month?
-> @ user8: like yeah she was private before but at least she posted relatively steadily, her fans knew she was alive. and now we're in the dark
-> @ user9: The parasocial relationships between people and their favorite celebrities never fail to astound me
@ user10: BEARNELLI FOREVER 🐻🐉
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@ kimiantonelli: P3 at Spa! All the hard work from the Mercedes team has made this year incredible 🖤
tagged: @ f1, @ mercedes
comments (8622):
@ user11: So proud of you Kimi🎉
@ user12: IS THAT Y/N
-> @ user13: the scream i scrumpt i think it is her
@ olliebearman: Slide 3... 🤨
Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (2025):
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@ yourusername: i'm sorry, the old y/n can't come to the phone right now 🤭 this account will be managed by my boyfriend, kimi antonelli. mess with me and you'll be messing with him. and lastly, any and all hate comments can be returned to the address: "IDGAF". thanks 💋
tagged: @ kimiantonelli, @ olliebearman, @ f1
comments (314):
@ user5: THE QUEEN HAS ARISEN
-> @ user14: the taylor swift rep reference in her post omg 😏
@ user15: This is not a drill - Y/N's back!
@ user16: The strength and bravery you're displaying is awe inspiring
@ kimiantonelli: I love you, tesoruccia
-> @ yourusername: love you too, kimi
@ olliebearman: Here for you, always 💞
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@ bearman.nation: Siblings Ollie and Y/N are finally both back on social media platforms, and they're both slaying as always 🤗
tagged: @ olliebearman, @ yourusername
comments (72):
@ user2: Y/N is flawless, I wish I could be more like her. 😓
-> @ user17: literally, her backbone is insane because I fear I'd absolutely need a padded room after these handful of months
@ user18: Y/N is GLOWING
-> @ user19: it's the hiatus + kimi antonelli combo
@ user8: gahhh they're both so pretty
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@ kimiantonelli: I don't usually post many things outside of work, but I just wanted to say that it's me, my girl, and my F1 car against the world. The haters can be cruel, but I know the truth. Happy three months, tesoruccia 😘
tagged: @ yourusername
comments (5438):
@ yourusername: can't believe i've been stuck with you for 3 months already
-> @ kimiantonelli: 3 months and the rest of eternity
@ user20: CUTEST COUPLE AWARD
@ user11: Need me a love like Kimi and Y/N's
Statement released by Y/N (2025):
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Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (2025):
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─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───
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hippolotamus · 17 days ago
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Woooo mer-buck my beloved!!! 🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️
For you, dearest 💖🫶
Eddie waits for his friend to continue, prompting him when he remains silent. “You don’t know?”  “No, I don’t. She left. With her awful boyfriend.” Evan shakes his head, pulling a face like he’s swallowed something bitter. “Did I tell you about him? I must have.” The information rings a bell. He mentally picks through some memories, trying to discern if he’s remembering the correct awful boyfriend or if it’s one of Sophia’s. Was it David? Or maybe Dylan?  “Doug! Yeah, I remember. She went with him?”
np tagging the mer!squad @diazsdimples @daffi-990 @spotsandsocks @dangerpronebuddie @tizniz @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @theotherbuckley 🧜‍♂️
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spotsupstuff · 2 years ago
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Hey, longtime lurker here! When Notos led Saint to the other members of the local group, did it make itself known to them before they got brain blasted? Did anyone fight against getting ascended?
hello hello, you!
Notos is usually glued to Saint's side unless it is scouting ahead or fighting/distracting something, so yes! all Iterators of the Eo group saw Notos with Saint after it joined the plant rat. Notos ain't no bitch and... except its death, it always made a point to face everything head on. there is no use in hiding, things need to be Confronted. its last words in the comic hit that much more cuz of it cuz for once it allows itself to be scared and a coward
Zephyr and Euros didn't really have any reaction because neither had the ability to really Understand or See what was happening, though Notos did do its "requesting response at tone" thing and talking at them
but there were Iterators who had very... explosive reactions to seeing Notos. especially those who Notos had to "shepherd" into not straying from the Mission Self-preservation. friends of Inconvenient Sporadic Change- Gem in an Eye and Sordid Expiation- went as far as to try to damage its overseer out of anger. then there were Iterators like Raspy Rustle and Sadness Makes Perfect who found themselves extremely relieved to see it again. they greeted Notos as an old friend, spoke with it for a while, Notos reassured them that everything will be alright (which it does with every Iterator they come across that is conscious enough before Saint does its thing) and then they were ascended
as for those who resisted...... -side eyes Haboob- i'mma get back to you on that one after Haboob is more properly introduced and you guys get to know her, what her relationship with Notos all entailed, what she did for the Mission... i really want to make a comic for that whole confrontation cuz it's. It Is A Lot.
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fxllfaiiry · 2 years ago
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♡₊˚ 𝐡𝐞𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐧 !・₊✧
pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader
summary: charles' wife attends one of his races. continuation of "you're so art deco"
warnings: google translated french, swearing.
notes: requested ─ yes
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liked by drivingforsurviving, formulaonelover and 9,560,213 others
tagged charles_leclerc
yourusername give em hell, baby 🫶
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charles_leclerc only for you
liked by yourusername and others
daisyjoness if ferrai fuck his race up again I know y/n will take care of it 😌
lanatsstan finally some race content!!
f1lovebot his lucky charm is there so he'll def win
ynsstanfirst give us more charles content, please <3
ynxf1 f1's it couple 💞
userflower mom and dad ‼️
yourusername added to their story !
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liked by charles_leclerc, alexademie and 11,892,098 others
yourusername hey, that's my man!
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charles_leclerc all for you, mon amour
liked by yourusername and others
user11 the first pic is so cute 🥹🫶
stylesstars thats her man, and her man only 😤
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liked by tomholland2013, sukiwaterhouse and 10,783,856 others
yourusername an after race party is always cool 🏎
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charles_leclerc beating you is cooler
yourusername you cheated!!
charles_leclerc I did not, I'm just better at karting
yourusername yeah when you cheat 🙄
user09 y/n looks so good in the last picture!!
simp4u I want someone to take me on a karting date so bad 😭
judeenthusiast I want what they have
bonus !
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lightningboltreader · 2 years ago
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I appreciate that you don’t post that much about your fics, that gets annoying when someone’s blog is like 70% self promotion lol
So, most writers, as far as I know, have some kind of tag they use to denote they are blogging about their fanfics, often something like 'my writing'. Mine is 'paperstorm writes'. Filtering those tags for people you follow would help, if this bothers you. I am very very bad at self-promotion because I have a chronic fear of being annoying and of overstaying my welcome. I have a very long history in my life of people loving me at first and then over time getting tired of me. It happens all the time. It happened like a month ago. Every time I do promote something I've done it's an act of self care, and I'm sure I share that with other people who also struggle with wanting to hype themselves up and be proud of their accomplishments but don't want to seem like they're bragging. I think people should self-hype all they want. They have a much healthier relationship with being proud of themselves than I do.
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yanoverload · 3 months ago
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MAIN POST YIPPEE
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𝔹𝔼𝔽𝕆ℝ𝔼 𝕐𝕆𝕌 𝔽𝕆𝕃𝕃𝕆𝕎 𝕄𝔼, 𝕃𝕆𝕆𝕂 𝔸𝕋 𝕋ℍ𝔼 ℝ𝕌𝕃𝔼𝕊.
Will draw dark content that might involve NSFT so no minors please. For both of our sakes.
IF YOU DISLIKE DEAD DOVE. BLOCK. ME. IT WILL BE DRAWN/WRITTEN.
NO EMPTY BLOGS!!!
No AI art allowed!
Yanderes are what I like in FICTION. Please understand the difference between reality and fiction. If any of this behaviour seems familiar, go seek help from authorities, not me. 
ALL my OCs are Pansexual unless stated otherwise. My characters are for all peeps! (If I write stuff it will be GN)
Most if not all of them will be SUBS. There is enough dom!yandere content out there. I could I guess make way but don’t count your luck.
DO NOT take me too seriously. I am using this blog to get back into drawing and for having fun. I am cringe but I am free :’)
If you draw or write about my characters please tag me or show me!!! I would love to see it. 
I will try to add content warnings if necessary. If you need me to tag something, please ask! (but remember this blog will have triggering content prolly all the time.)
I will NOT entertain certain kinks like: scat, vomit, vore, inflation, enemas, cuckolding (TO READER OR DARLING. A yan can cheat on their spouse with darling though for example.) and probably more I can't remember.
I might write a bit here and there but do not request any writing. 
I do not get sarcasm. I can be slow. Please respect these.
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◥(ºᵥᵥº)◤ ABOUT ME! ◥(ºᵥᵥº)◤
I call myself Samhain but most call me Crow! I am 22, and I’m Non-Binary so use They/Them for me.
My main blog isn’t this one, it’s Berilemon, so keep that in mind if I follow you!
I have been in love with yandere themes and character design since highschool, but I lost that passion in college, so I am trying to get back into it again! 
I am a bit sick in the head LOL sorry in advance.
Probably will post mostly yandere OCs but I might do Yandere! Characters…. No clue yet.
I am just a silly crow <\3
Any questions? Ask! I am very patient I promise <3
My anons 💞
2️⃣ fan anon, 🇩🇪 anon, 🦄 anon, 🍇 anon, 🫥 anon, 🇧🇷 anon, 🪼 anon
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Wave 1 Masterlist!
Yandere Unicorn Hybrid
Does he have heats?
"Lemme peg him."
Marrying Éliphas
Info about his magic
His "house"
Overall outfit inspiration
Is he wife material?
His fav fruit
Tsun af
Sick Darling
Electrifying punishments...
Spanks? No, inspection time!
Inspection pt2
Crying Éli
Yandere Incubus
Yandere Incubus full body ref
Yandere Incubus and matching piercings
Krampus Darling
Goth sub? Ramune.
Christmas Ramune
Karaoke
"I would kill for him."
Ramune and his quirks
Doing only fans
Duality
Spoiling you
Yandere Cow Boy
Full body ref
"Can I impregnate him?"
"You not gonna leave me on this farm." WARNING: MURDER!
Cut em. WARNING: AMPUTATION
Drabble about cutting him WARNING: AMPUTATION
Chompin him
How he loves you.
Cute but a bit mean
Yandere Serial Killer
Malewife Dae-Ho
You guys and Dae-Ho
Do what you want with him WARNING: AMPUTATION
His worship and logic.
How he met you
Gift for friend
Breaking in (drabble by my pooks)
Darling's cooking
Dreaming about him...
Omegaverse Dae-Ho
Wreck that virgin!
Snek AU
Snake AU species
"I'm a villain."
Watching you.
Titty...
Yandere Hellhound
Full body ref
Who's the stalker?
Oral fixation
Puppy, go to the crate
His siblings
Mono's diet!
Piggyback ride
"Do his flames hurt us?"
More info on his likes
Does his fire run out?
Breaking up with him
"How do you mark Mono?"
All of em!
Their character inspirations
No Nut November survivors
Them as plushies!
Yans and Christmas
Best and worst kissers
What if you bite them in public?
Their love languages!
Biggest and smallest titties
Kisses, except for Dae-Ho.
The freakiest things they like
Who would kidnap you?
Cake time!
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sukunas-wife · 1 year ago
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u probably saw this already but this is exactly how i imagine him to be he looks so fucking hottttt i wanna die have great dayyyyy ❤️❤️
LORD ALMIGHTY SUKUNA PLEASE 😫😫😭😭
Smash- Hard Smash- Heavy Smash 🤭 ty for the food 🙏🤍
That’s exactly how Imagine him when I write him gahahskekksk
@yamaguccitadashi actually tagged me in the one on the right and I loved it 🥹🤍
I’ve gotten dm’s of art of him also I appreciate it all because we’re all in this together 😭😭🙏🤍
His hips are disgusting I wanna touch em 🥹 more importantly i wanna squeeze his boobies 🥺
Y’all can’t see me but I’m kicking my legs against my bed 💞
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dreamwatch · 2 months ago
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Fave Five Fics
Thank you to @tinytalkingtina for the tag!
When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 💞
This is so bloody hard, I cannot lie. I'll definitely disagree with myself the moment I press 'post.'
In no particular order:
Seven Deadly Sins - Okay, look, straight out of the gate I'm going to cheat, and I'm really sorry for it, but hear me out... These are seven very short stories, 1313 words or less, and none of them are connected but thematically they just fit each other I think. This was for the Corroded Coffin Fest Halloween event and I took the theme and ran dark and I am so proud of these. Most of them are pretty niche, but I really think of the collection as one and I would never be able to split them. We have everything from soul selling to drunk driving via ghostly apparitions and long meat (not a joke). They've given me a drive to lean more into my horror/dark side, so 2025, look out!
California I'm Coming Home - a 'quick drabble' that grew legs real fast! Eddie makes it big and buys Wayne a nice house in California. I have a tendancy to write fics that span many years even when I'm trying to work to tight word counts, I drop into a moment and out again and on to the next period. This is one of the ones where I think that was most successful. And I just adore Wayne and Eddie together, I love writing for them.
Only the Horses Can Bring Us Back Home - I do wonder sometimes if the tag 'Horse Girl Eddie' did me more harm than good with this. 😂 Post S4, short recovery fic about Eddie going to a therapist and her suggesting equine therapy to him. I don't ride, I know nothing about horses other than they're big and they're cute so I have no idea where this came from. It's one of the first things I wrote and it holds a special place in my heart.
Echoes and Silence, Patience and Grace - Written for Corroded Coffin Fest. Sometimes its the vibe of the fic that carries me, and thats probably why I love this so much. This was one sitting, done and dusted in about an hour, and it all sprung from that first line that came from nowehere. I love a hint of melancholy in a fic. It's minor rockstar Eddie in his forties making his yearly visit back to Hawkins. A lot of reminising because I'm of an age where I do that, so that means my characters do it too.
Disenchanted Lullaby - Again, written for Corroded Coffin Fest. Another one that is all about the vibes; musician Eddie coming home after a short tour. I was reading some articles about how touring musicians often get depressed when they come home, how slipping back into a normal life and routine is so hard. If I could I would probably re-write this a little, but as it stands I'm really proud of it.
Honourable mention:
Know When To Hold 'em - Corroded Coffin fans sing Wayne's favourite song every time he's in the house. And one time he isn't. Angsty and self indulgent because why not?
Oki doki, no pressure tags - but also, I'm invested in your answers! 😂
@hbyrde36 @thisapplepielife @cchapsticck @the-unforgivenn @occasionaloverboy @jo-harrington @vthx @soaringornithopter @devondespresso @scriptorbemi
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