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2kiran · 10 months ago

Note

Hi‼️ lurker here‼️ just wanna say that your works are awesome‼️‼️ and that your dash always looks so cool and pretty every time I come around to check up on you‼️ your works are so good and you’re such a talented writer‼️

also… can I…can I ask for a tired reader being surrounded by a very demanding and needy 141? Like I’m not all that creative like the other anons but like I just really like the reader satisfying the 141s in any way his tired form can‼️ whether it’s by letting them ride his dick until they’re satisfied or having them being cock warmed as reader falls asleep‼️

sorry for this‼️ just thoughts and brain worms are weird rn and I thought that you would carry these out well… back to lurking now‼️

p.s. the ‼️ are just here to show excitement not to be scary or anything I’m sorry

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: bottom 141, top male reader, consensual somnophilia, cowgirl position, cockwarming, fingering, dividers

The weight of the missions and daily tasks being distributed made your limbs slack, eyes droopy, body boneless and desperate to pass out for even a week. You’re dozing off the second you sit down or rest against a wall, jerking awake when shaken by your mate. It isn’t your fault that you’re hardworking when needed, and everything was becoming a necessity to put your full attention on.

You need a break.

On the other hand, your team doesn’t seem to agree.

They’re clingy, more than usual. When you’re in a room with them, it seems as though their presence is the only thing that matters. Unabashedly acting like animals in heat, they’d sometimes even gently rut against your thigh.

Their excuse? You’ve been neglecting them, rarely glancing or facing towards their direction. Sometimes, you’d fail to acknowledge them in passing which evidently piles up their frustration and need to turn the source into the outlet.

And you’ll let them. They know you will.

Soap is the first one to snap. The man’s too needy for his own good. He can’t stop thinking about you, your hands wandering along his body, allowing him to take a sniff of pleasure before you’re shoving him away. But now? Now you’re doing it unintentionally.

He’s concerned, knowing damn well that he shouldn’t bother you. And yet, he can’t keep it within his pants. You’ll be good for him, right?

“Shit, tha’s it, love...” Soap groans, face contorting with blissful relief. He rolls his hips, desperate to feel every inch of your cock - the one that had him dreaming about it, waking up with his boxers damp, and hole twitching from being so empty - “Y’can get some shut-eye, ‘s alrigh’.”

You’re hanging onto your consciousness by a mere thread, the promise of slumber darkening the edges of your view while simultaneously heightening the sensation of slick, twitching warmth wrapped around your length. Small moans left him, thick brows knitted together in concentration.

Soap cannot remain still for the life of him. He sinks further down, enveloping you in his tight heat and squeezes you with it. His jaw hung open, mouth agape, and his thighs are quivering in a poor attempt not to fuck back against your cock with his desperate hole.

The second is Price. He may be a responsible and patient captain, but he’s still a man with lustful requirements. He needs to let off stream, you know?

“Hhang... that’s a good man.” He ruts his hips against yours, the plushy thickness of his scarred thighs rippling with each bounce. If you’re comfortable with it, he’ll take a drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke slip through his teeth as a breathy moan rasps from his throat.

God, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the feel of you. Your tip meeting the spot that has him high with squelchy smacks, the scratchy stubble spread on his chin making the firm muscle of your shoulder raw whenever he angled himself forward to make you pound into him deeper.

Such a good soldier, you are. “Stay still, m‘fuckin’ close.” He huffs. Your cock twitches in response, and his lips curves in a self-satisfied grin. It has him riding you harder, rim taut, his pace fast and it makes the both of you dependent on chasing that point.

The Captain isn’t afraid to milk you for all you’re worth, either. It’s your own fault for making him needy. – “C’mon, you’ve got more in you, don’t you?”

Gaz is the next one. He heard your ‘interaction’ with the other men, smelled how Soap and Price practically reeked of well-deserved sex. It has arousal pool in his lower belly, dick twitching to life at the possibility of finally being satiated by you.

He’ll praise you for it; “Good boy, letting me use you like this.”, “Th-thank you, my love. Fuckin’ me so well.” and “Shh, I know. Go rest. I’ll just suck your pretty dick off, yeah?”

You think he’ll prep himself because you’re melting into the sheets to nap? No, you’re terribly wrong. He’d grip your wrist firmly, lubing your fingers up, and gently make them breach his tight hole. He gasps, immediately clenching from how intense it felt.

Gaz smiles fondly at how you seem to battle sleep, nodding mindlessly. When you do succumb to the urge, he’s biting his lip to contain his pathetic noises. You look so peaceful, and here he is fucking himself on your fingers. He’s holding onto your forearm, guiding you back and out. The murmurs of slick ringing through the room as he throws his head back.

“Fuckkk...” He’d mutter, fisting his own cock with rough jerks. Leaning down, he peppers kisses all across your jaw. He’s unbelievably turned on, rocking his hips to take in your digits completely. He’s getting desperate, but he will wait for you to wake up before he shoves your cock down his throat.

Ghost corners you. Sure, he’s got better self-control than the rest of the men. But hey, he’s still a human with very human needs.

Doesn’t matter if you’ve got a broader and hulking figure or a shorter stature, he’s guiding you with his frame until your knees hit the edge of a bed or a threadbare seat and your aching back is laying down. His mouth twitching in a mock snarl to have you submit. All with your consent, of course.

One of his favorite things to do to tease you? He loves to keep on asking you “This okay, luv?” and “Hmm? Y’want me to touch ya here?” until you’re begging him to finally fuck himself on your leaky dick that he’s been either playing with his roughened digits or warming with his inviting heat the entire time.

Rides you so slowly, hips rocking ever so slightly, and his soft walls pulse as they give way to your length. And it’s all to keep you awake, tightening up when you’re about to fall asleep on him. He wants you to be completely aware when he’s in the heights of arousal and he has you balls deep inside of him.

“Wake up, swee’art. Fuck– eyes on me, yeah, there we go.” / “Oh, you like tha’? Uh-huh? Good boy, you do.”

–

Or you have Price behind you, one of his arms slung around your waist as he thumbs at your slit until it’s coated in your pre. Soap’s tugging at your shaft, his fist enclosed and tight, consistent and oh so whiny like you’re inside of him. “Ye can fuck me harder, (rank), jus’ like this.”

Gaz on his knees, his tongue flicking at your sensitive veins. They’ll be toying with your cock as you lean back against the captain, letting sleep overtake you until you feel someone familiar climb into your lap. The other men supporting Ghost’s weight as he takes your dick in his skull-gloved hand, guiding the head to meet his rim and he sinks down with a low groan.

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sheepispink · 5 months ago

Text

A TICKING TIME BOMB

pairings: simon ghost riley/sergeant!reader

tags: platonic/romantic (up to u), angst, hurt/comfort, dissociation, scars (his and yours), injuries, temporary blindness, cuddling, fluff

Summary: Assigned on your first proper mission with the task force, things go wrong leaving you a.. little bit injured. Well, maybe a bit. It's bad enough the task force have to take turns looking after you like you're the team's hamster or something. It makes you uncomfortable somewhat, and you’re exhausted already, so when it gets around to Ghost’s turn, you break.

WC: 6.8k

——————————————————————-

As always, the simplest of missions always ended up going haywire, though that seemed to follow you wherever you went. This time, you were tasked with a simple job: get in under Ghost and Soap’s cover, plant the bomb and get out again. Straightforward, plenty of preparation beforehand and no room for mistakes— after all, the team consisted of only the most specialised operatives. Well, you liked to describe it that way, but the rest of the team were far more experienced than you. It’s not like you were one to typically put yourself down or the like, but it was your first time working without your usual team. Usually, you had them right beside you whenever you helped the taskforce, always backup and nothing more. That was until you were spending your Friday night with Gaz in his task force common room, chilling out before Price suddenly walks in and addresses Kyle about the next mission. You took the moment to let your mind wander a bit, already feeling the tiredness seeping in. An absent-minded yawn led you to unintentionally make yourself known, Price’s eyes suddenly narrowing at you.

“S-sorry.. Didn't mean to interrupt..” You say sheepishly, sitting up straight from your slouched position against the arm rest. Surprisingly, Price just shakes his head and rubs his beard curiously. “Didn’t you take the same year-long course Soap did?” He asks, and you slowly nod, remembering the hell you went through, but it was damn worth it for the skills you earned.

“Perfect, Gaz, bring them to the meeting tomorrow.”

Okay, so maybe there was a lot more to it than that, but you really had been half awake and, before you knew it, you were in that meeting with room layouts being thrown at you like bricks. You were slightly terrified to say the least; though, you were a sergeant now, so you had already expected that your usual work would change more than you had thought.

Now here you were, clearing the next corridor with ease as adrenaline pumped through your veins. Most are outside trying to take out the others, but there were always going to be a few strays that passed under the radar. Ducking into the next hall, you finally find where you were supposed to set down the bomb. If everything had gone right, Price and Gaz would be in the hallways not too far ahead of you and Soap and Ghost a bit behind. That meant all hallways had successfully been cleared from strays, allowing you to easily crouch down and begin to set up the explosives by the pillar. You’ve done this a million times, both in training and missions, and yet your heart is racing all the same. Something just feels wrong, even if the Captain had just radioed in and confirmed success in clearing the path ahead. You stick the last wire in, watching the timer begin to slowly tick.

“This is Bravo 7-2 speaking, the explosives are secured at the pillar and timer has begun.” Forcing the tremble out of your voice is near impossible especially when your stomach churns with uncertainty; that’s not the point though, you need to get out–right now. The clack of your boots against the tiling is loud and heavy, picking up with each second that passes. “I repeat, this is Bravo 7-2, the explosives have been set. Get out of range now.”

Before you can turn the corridor, your heart stops in your chest, and you feel yourself slamming to a stop. Footsteps drawing closer. More than one, maybe even three sets. With gritted teeth, you steady your gun and peek around the hall.

Thirty seconds

Another falls down, crumpling to the floor whilst his friend curses in Russian, now running towards you. Where the hell had he come from? His hands drop his gun, the empty barrel evident in the lighter noise it makes as it clatters to the floor, before landing them on your shoulders.

Twenty seconds.

You shoot at him quickly, throwing his slumped body off of you with a heavy thump. There's no time to catch your breath— you need to be out of here.

Ten seconds.

Your feet are moving and yet it seems like you’re not getting anywhere.

Five seconds.

“Bravo 7-2? This is Bravo 0-6, everyone is out.”

The soldiers had only taken up ten seconds of your time which would be nothing to anyone else in life—unfortunately, those seconds mattered the most in this line of work. Your thumb can barely even touch the cold metal of the radio before the bright light goes off behind you, debris showering over you as the building echoes the loud noise between its walls. The ringing in your ears is practically deafening, not to mention the flames that lick at your uniform as you’re thrown forward into the wall. The ceiling above makes a sickening crunch before promptly falling down and giving you mere seconds to roll out the way. It’s still for a minute as you sit there slumped against the rickety foundations that once held the building, every thought of yours at a standstill in your head.

“This is Bravo 6-2 to Bravo 7-2, what is your status?” The crackle of the walkie-talkie could easily be mistaken for the relentless ringing in your ears, only serving to make you groan and slump your head a little more. “I repeat, this is Bravo 6-2 to Bravo 7-2. Sergeant..? Are you alright?”

Gaz’s voice is still jingling through your head long before his concerns pass through your ears; the explosion had rewired your brain and changed the connections of your nerves, jumbling everything inside you into a giant heap that could be comparable to the disorganised look of Frankenstein’s creation.

“Gaz.. I’m alright, I think.” You mumble out, slowly pushing the rubble off of you, well you think it’s rubble— who knows. There's smoke all throughout the air, toxic fumes reaping through the hallways you roamed moments before. One arm reaches up to cover your mouth and face, coughing harshly into your sooted uniform. “I’m comin’, give me a sec..” Why did your chest feel so tight? Something was definitely wrong, but then again everything has seemed to go wrong in the last thirty seconds. You could sit here and complain about the burns on your leg, the clench of your lungs or the sting that forces your eyes closed. But that wouldn't be quite useful, would it?

You manage to stumble your way into fresh air, allowing you to finally deeply inhale the cold air that seems to shiver every nerve you thought you lost. It’s not long before Soap has rushed up beside you, giving you a small pat on your back as he lifts your arm over his shoulder. “C’mon, there’s no way you’re out cold by a little boom, eh?” You force a dry chuckle out as his words, even more so at his scouse accent, allowing him to aid you into the back of the exfil truck where you suppose the others are sitting— your visor is completely covered in dust right now, you can barely make out Soap’s stupid haircut as he sits you down.

“What the hell happened back there?” The rough voice fills your ears, clearer than Ghost’s and holds far more authority as well. That's only how you can tell them apart right now since squinting isn't helping much. You suppose Gaz is on his left, and maybe Ghost is beside you? Soap is patting you down for injuries whilst you cower under Price’s harsh tone. “Some slipped through, tried to stop me when I left.” You fumble to explain yourself, coughing harshly from the fumes you had accidentally inhaled back there. “Didn’t you clear all the hallways first? You shouldn't have acted without being sure.”

“I’m not badly hurt, I swear.” Those feelings from earlier fill your head, the doubt whilst you were wiring the explosives— you shouldn’t have ignored that gut feeling, but how would you have known?

With a soft sigh, you look up to meet his gaze properly. “I didn't mean to rush; you were all in position. I just didn't want to cause an unnecessary delay, sorry..”

He lets out a low scoff and Soap snorts beside you, still holding your arm over his shoulders and the truck starts to rumble and move over the unsteady ground. “Hey— w-what's so funny?” Now you’re confused, wondering if you’re about to get the death sentence or the like. “You could at least look at yer captain when yer apologising, you idiot.”

Now you’re very confused, turning your head to face your captain again or well face what you assume to be him considering your visor was still blurry. You were sure Price was right there, you could just make out his signature hat atop his head but then again this visor was really blurry. Now that the adrenaline has finally settled down, you lift your sleeve to rub the dirt on your visor away. What you hadn't realised is that you didn't have one, well anymore; it must’ve fallen off during the explosion. You don't think much and just rub at your eyes instead, trying to rid the blurriness.

Until it doesn't go.

You’ve opened your eyes wide, rubbed at every crevice in them and blinked multiple times to no avail. The three of them watched your flailing about, curious as to why you were so intent on rubbing your eyes like a fly was buzzing in them.

“I am looking at my captain—” You continue to argue, sure that some dirt must’ve gotten into your eye, but they know something’s wrong the minute you point straight ahead at Gaz, convinced it’s him as you ramble on about his hat. You’re silenced quickly by Ghost who firmly, but not harshly, grabs your chin to allow him and Soap to stare at the hazy look in your eyes. “What can you see Sergeant?”

He says, rough voice rumbling out right beside your ear which you most certainly would’ve jumped at if not for his touch that reminded you of his presence.

“Well it’s a bit blurry but-” A curse escaped from Price and you assume he’s the one who stands in front of you now, holding his arm up though you can't really make out anything but the blur of the colours of his uniform. “How many fingers am I holdin’ up, kid?”

The truck goes silent when you guess five, only his fist remaining in the air.

Your foot taps the floor anxiously as you sit in the infirmary, waiting for a medic to attend to you. Soap had escorted you here, trying to cheer you up with empty hopes, but he had left you whilst he attended the debriefing. In truth, you were even more terrified than before. You’d been shot at, had bones broken multiple times, but now you were visually impaired for who knows how long— if it was even temporary that is. Soon enough you’re speaking to the medic, failing to hide the shake in your breath as they examine your eyes one by one before eventually concluding that it’ll take two weeks to fully recover from. Somehow you had forgotten about the bullet that sliced into your leg which they were now preparing to stitch, having been too disoriented earlier to even notice Soap wrapping up the blood around your shin. The pain had been excruciating everywhere when you first stumbled out, especially those burns you hadn't yet showed them.

This sucks, not only had you made a fool of yourself earlier by absolutely not looking at Price when apologising, but you’re also about a nerve away from crying on this infirmary bed. You never realised how terrifying it’d be to live totally unaware of your surroundings, considering you managed to always be alert for everything, so this is practically hell for you. You can only hear the recruits on the bed beside you, chattering non-stop, and it’s only more overwhelming when you can’t even see directly where they are. Not to mention you can't even fend for yourself anymore— hell you’d describe yourself as useless and you are. The pain still ripples up your legs, burns from the explosion, and your head aches from the override of thoughts running through it. It just hurts so much.

A tear begins to well in your eyes before you suddenly hear the door open, familiar footsteps approaching. “7-2.” It calls out gruffly, the blurred figure crouching before your bed to look up at your dazed face as you sit there pitifully. There’s no one else that voice can belong to, so you just pitifully reply with your small voice.

“Ghost.” It’s hard not to miss the long sigh he lets out, likely looking over your current pathetic display.

Of course, you had heard the news already—since the holidays were coming around, most soldiers would be off base including any medics that usually would’ve looked after you whilst you were out of action. Somehow, a unanimous decision had been chosen that the task force members would take shifts looking after you for the duration of your recovery. Price would take the earliest days, Soap for two days, same with Gaz and then a week and a bit with Ghost, considering he never celebrated the holidays anyway. Ghost already had a feeling you weren't up to that mission, even if you often excelled with everything else— new people weren't exactly your forte. Especially working under Price like that— he could be quite the intimidating man when he wanted to be. So to say the least, you were feeling terrible about this new arrangement, even if you were friends with Soap and Gaz quite closely— you couldn't just make them look after you.

“Don’t make me drag you now. You need to rest, in your room. Johnny will bring you food later.” You soon manage to find a steady pace, hand holding his sleeve tightly, but it’s not as worrisome considering it’s only the pair of you walking through the corridors. You had guessed so by the lack of footsteps and the fact it was supposedly very late. It’s weird how you two always manage to be brought together in these early hours, only for him to disappear again when the light comes. Like a Ghost you suppose. “What's that stupid smirk on your face for?” He scoffs, and you’re positive he barely gave you a glance as he spoke. Instead of answering, you shrug, deciding not to tell him about the sudden nostalgia you had just felt.

“D’ya think the Captain is actually mad at me?” You say, switching the topic entirely to the topic you’ve been mulling over for a while now. It nags at the back of your head, like an annoying fly buzzing around your ears. Thankfully not a hornet.

“No.”

You stare blankly at him, trying not to snicker at his blunt answer as you attempt to press him for more. “Just no?” When you receive a silent nod, a low sigh escapes you and your free hand absentmindedly starts to fiddle with the ends of your uniform as you navigate the halls with his help. “I knew I shouldn't have joined that mission; it’s not the same as working with my team as I originally thought.” You ramble, spilling your thoughts into the silence that he left between you too. He lets out a grunt, urging you on and so you continue. “I really did do as best as I could though. I still don't quite understand how those two soldiers slipped through my radar.”

“Are you sure you weren’t blind before then?”

At his insult, your eyes widen, and you go through a series of annoyed expressions before grumbling some insult beneath your breath.

He’s left you at your bedroom soon enough, making sure you’re settled in bed before he switches the light off and leaves you alone for the night. Despite the exhaustion wracking through your body, you can't quite manage to fall asleep straight away, still tossing and turning with worries. The main one seemed to be the fact they’d be looking after you for the remainder of your state– you were half considering calling your parents in London to come and pick you up. But… you suppose that would be a burden on them, especially since this is so far, and they were never quite supportive of the whole army thing. You really didn't want to deal with yet another lecture and an ‘I told you so’. It’s not like you want to laze around for the entirety of your recovery period, but there's not much you can do whilst temporarily blind, and you really don’t want the others hanging around your every move. Either way it seemed like you were stuck in this situation for now.

Thankfully, your bags had already been packed considering that the mission had been done right before holidays began so you had preparations ahead. You wake up lazily the next morning, a throb in your head as you hear heavy footsteps enter. For a moment, you panic and try to clear the blur in your eyes before your exhausted mind catches up with the current situation, and you sigh, turning your head in hopes of hearing the footsteps’ owner’s voice.

“We’re leaving in ten, kid.” Price’s voice rings out as the sound of rummaging in drawers rings out. “Second draw down.” You mumble, and he gives you a mumbled thanks before handing you your army shirt and trousers. “Leave the door open when you’re finished, alright?” You give him a nod in response, the heavy thumps of his boots disappearing as the door creaks shut.

Being looked after by Price initially served to be pretty uncomfortable on your part, always feeling that you had to be acting right since he was your captain and all. You still felt guilty of what happened in the mission, and you couldn’t quite tell if he was annoyed at you or not, unable to see his body language which would’ve given it all away. Too stubborn to actually ask him for help like anyone would do, you decided to persevere and try to figure it out on your own. That meant whenever he’d leave you alone in favour of going grocery shopping or the like, you’d walk laps around this new room in an attempt to learn the layout so you could do things by yourself. He only found out when he heard a short cry of pain in the early morning, coming to check on you in bed only to find you had somehow fallen into the bathtub in search of the sink.

This led you to be passed over to Soap with new instructions to be supervised at all times. It wasn't like you’d make it much easier for him though, considering you could persuade him pretty quickly to let you off, but before you know it Soap has dropped you off at Gaz’s door. You weren't particularly good at keeping him happy and soon enough he has dropped you off at Ghost’s flat. Oops.

“I heard you’ve been causing trouble with the others?” You can almost hear a gruff amusement in his tone, his hand on the small of your back as he helps you inside. You hear the soft thump of your small duffel bag on the floor along with the shuffle of him taking off his shoes. “I didn’t cause trouble, they just want to coddle me too much.” You can almost feel the raised eyebrow he gives you at that, and he gives you a rough pat on the shoulder as if to confirm it.

“So they just gave me a list for nothing, huh?”

Before you can respond, he’s listing off all the instructions the others had come up with, a sheepish look on your face as he calls you out.

“Don’t let her walk around unsupervised.”

“I was stretching my legs!”

“Hide any electrical appliances in the kitchen.”

“I wanted some water; I didn't know he had something on the stove!”

“You almost fell out a window?”

“I wanted fresh air!”

He lets out a sigh, gently pushing you to sit on a stool as he helps you undo your shoes despite the protests you’re currently giving. “Seems like you’re quite the handful even with no eyesight. Lucky for you, I’ll be watching you at all times.” That makes you blink in surprise, despite the fact you can't even see. “That's not possible, you’d have to go out once a while.” You push yourself up to a stand when he’s done, fuzzy socks still on from when you dressed yourself this morning. “Trust me, you won't get a chance.”

Over the next few days, Ghost doesn't leave you alone for a second. When he’s cooking, he’s in the kitchen barely a few steps away and the rare chance he goes out to grab something from the shops, he locks you in the car with the radio low. You even tried to pretend to sleep once only for him to pat your cheek until you swatted at his hand, dragging you to the car to wait for him.

You’re sitting in the car, bored out of your mind when you hear the door handle get pulled at. For a second you flinch, unsure why he hasn't opened the door yet if it was really him who was opening it. What if it was still locked and someone was trying to get into the car? What if— “Dammit, got too many things in my hands.” He mumbles as he finally opens the door, reaching behind the seats to place the shopping bags there. You look over to him, slightly tired from being woken up early but curious as to what he has in his hand, after all you can only make out a faint shape of what seems to be a bottle.. Maybe?

“Here, got you something.” It’s far more cream than your typical coffee, but it tastes good anyway as he gently holds the cup for you, helping you hold it with your hands before letting go. “Thanks Lt..” You sip it down, enjoying the sweetness that comes with it, though somehow makes you feel even sleeper than what it’s supposed to do, keep you awake. He chuckled when your eyes only grow droopier, resting the weight of his palm on your head for a moment before letting go. “Alright, let’s get you back to sleep then.” He hums, kicking the car into drive before he’s making his way through the streets once again. It’s not like you do much but sleep anymore, especially since your eyes are a little sensitive at the moment due to some eye drops the doctors gave you. He only really wakes you for meals or something he has to really tell you.

This also means you and Ghost don't actually talk all that much. He’s always up to something, and you’re passed out on your air mattress to even notice, snoring quietly with your lips parted. To an outsider, it’d seem like you’re actively avoiding him from the silence in your relationship, however, for Ghost it’s quite the opposite.

Every time you drift off, he’s grateful, knowing you’ve missed out on at least a month's worth of sleep because of all the back to back missions. The higher the rank you grew, the less sleep you seemed to get, especially as people started to demand more out of you— that’s just how the military worked. Hell, the whole team was lacking sleep, though he knew something about you the others didn't. The reason you were kicking up so much trouble when you stayed with them is because you were restless— you couldn't quite feel comfortable around them. No, it wasn't because you didn't feel safe around them, he’s seen you collapse against Gaz’s shoulder in the heli far too many times to count. It wasn't because of Price’s status as a Captain either, no, it was something else entirely. Ghost was elusive compared to the others, seemingly not paying attention to anyone that wasn't of the mission’s interest, and thus made him a silent creature than the worry warts the others turned into. This is exactly how you always passed out in his presence; finally letting down your constant worries about being perceived by others, you figured he wouldn't glance at you for a second. And so, he’d watch from behind his mask as your shoulders quietly slumped, giving into the rest you had craved for weeks. You had received quite the scolding after the mission, and he had seen the way your eyebrows furrowed each time you were around the others, afraid of being some kind of burden.

He walks over to you as you doze off early, only eight pm, and you have drool spilling past your lips and staining your cheek. It’s a cute sight, really, especially since he’s completely aware that you think he doesn't know about all these little parts of you. He figured you’ll be okay now, the tissue in his hand wiping your mouth carefully before he grips the blankets a little too tightly, yet slowly pulls them up to your neck. He’d barely even needed to keep you entertained like the others, not when your body has subconsciously accepted his presence, constantly calm and quiet as you recover. A little part of him wishes you don't recover so soon, quite enjoying your confusion when you try to figure out where his voice is coming from in your sleep induced haze. Eventually he leaves you be, the little alarm clock flashing the late time on his desk, his past office now your make do bedroom.

Your head’s been swirling for a while now, thoughts muddling together from your half awake state and the small nightmare that had jolted you awake. It’s hard to stay calm when all you see when you wake is another blur, the room around you pitch black and full of terror. You haven't felt this since you were at Soap's place, but thankfully he had stayed up late binging some series he missed, the faint chuckles able to snap you out of the fear creeping into your throat. Though now, it was quiet, all the sleep you had caught up on making it nearly impossible for you to force yourself back to sleep if you tried. You were too awake, too aware, and alert as you carried on frantically looking around, each slam of wind against the windows making your head snap. British weather never helped you, always raining instead of the pure white you hoped to see when you opened the curtains, and always too hot yet too cold, a medium you could never seem to find.

With your heart thumping in your ears, you push yourself up to a stand, hands grasping his desk and accidentally splaying his papers across the floor. Your breath chokes, realising what you had just done, the loud rustle of the fall echoing in your ears as a pit of shame surrounds the current fear—the ball growing larger by the second. Panicked, you support yourself on any item you can, each soft knock of your hands against an object tugging at your heart muscle even more. Eventually you find the bathroom light, grasping at the air until you find the dangling string, and you pull, the blinding spotlights making you wince. The bathroom was slightly clearer, and you quickly closed the door behind you, not bothering to turn the lock in case for some weird reason you had to run out again. You could never trust your brain anyway.

Stepping forward, your hands grasp around the porcelain of the sink, your body shaking as you slump slightly, breathing heavier. It’s so silent, the fan the only sound echoing off of the surrounding tiles—the lack of noise driving you to the brink of despair. The way your hands grabbed the tap was nothing short of brutal, lifting the metal upwards as water gushed out, drowning the contaminating paranoia out of your brain through the little crevices. Your breathing slows a little, but it feels like a weight off your chest from how hard your heart had thumped against your ribcage, and you find your head wanting to tilt back, breathing in the cold air. However, this causes you to make a brutal mistake.

Your eyes open again, the mirror right in front of you. It’s been weeks since you’ve looked directly into one, and you can't help but be stilled into shock from what you see. As expected, your hair is a mess, falling over your shoulders in a way that’s never happened before, always in a tight bun for training. Not to mention, your eyebrows are furrowed together so tightly, instinctively forcing you to relax them, and your lips are cracked all over, chapped and broken. It’s not like you can see all of that, no, only faint blurs of what’s before you, a hovering blend of colours that make up your face, smoothing out into a strange shape—you don't even remember your chin looking like that.

The longer you stare, the more you lose track of yourself, blinking in confusion as you suddenly become aware of all your little nicks of your skin, not by sight but feel. Your hands trace over the bumps on your face, up the side of your cheek and just up to your eye. A fresh burn scar, not the worst definitely— but clearly noticeable. You hadn't known you had been burnt on your face too, perhaps refusing to acknowledge that. Instead, your other hand moves to graze your eyebrow, feeling the hairs out of place, and the rough texture of dry skin.

This isn't you— but it is, and yet it isn't altogether.

You know it’s you because when you widen your eyes you can faintly see the whites of your eyes become more visible. You know it’s you because when you lick your lips you feel the stab of the cracks, see the paled colour in the mirror. Likewise, you know it’s you because you feel connected to it yet so far away at the same time.

“Why’re you up?”

You don't hear his gruff voice behind you, even as his unmasked face approaches in the mirror behind your own. He’s tired, that’s obvious by his voice but no matter how hard you squinted you could barely make out a feature of his. His eyes roam over your form in confusion, wondering what had caused you to be up at this time, and he reaches around you to finally close the tap. It was quiet in the flat, and he’s sure he would’ve woken if there was a storm or any other loud noise. Besides, he doubts you’d brave the darkness without seeking him out if the nightmare was that bad.

He follows where your eyes are stuck on, the mirror and the scars that now litter your face. He knew that feeling, the detachment that came with a new scar, especially on something you see so often. After all, he wore a mask for a reason, to hide identity from others, and from himself. For him, it was less to do with the gruesome shapes of the marks, more struggling to place himself with that. He didn't feel as if he was that face, even if he remembers where everything came from like the back of his hand. Sometimes, he still remembers when his face was smoother, rounder, and his eyes were a little wider.

Your hands have a death grip on that porcelain, and he can tell now that you’re experiencing that similar emptiness he feels too. Gently, he places his large hand over your eyes, the warmth seeping your skin as his voice grows a little quieter yet no less thick. “That’s enough. You don't need to suffer any longer like this.” He tugs you away from the sink, gently turning you around to face him instead, calloused fingertips scratching your eyelids as he lowers his hand. “Look at me.” You do, seeing nothing but a blur of blonde on his head, a fuzz of his carved jaw and crooked nose. He holds your hand, fingers rubbing little circles into your palm. “Who is it?”

“I.. It’s you.” He nods at you, rolls up his sleeve, and brings it up to your line of vision, marks littering the skin in angry reds and pale pinks. “Who is it?”

“T-those marks—”

“Who is it?” He insists and you comply quickly.

“You..”

Gently he pulls up his shirt, even in the fuzziness you can make out the shape of the scarred tissue, spanning across the side of his waist. “Whose is it?”

“Y-yours..” You’re starting to understand now, as your breaths grow slower and your mind begins to focus on deciphering the meaning behind his words. He wants to show you something that reflects onto you yet comforts you because he shares that pain too. He pulls your hand to touch the scarred tissue, letting your fingers dance over the ridges and bumps and the uneasy feeling that comes with it. “I hide behind a mask,” He murmurs, pulling his shirt gently down again as your fingers retract. “Yet I’m still Simon. No matter how hard I try.”

He lets the silence hang in the air, allowing the reassurance behind his words to envelop you. His hands rest on your shoulders now, before slipping behind you into the cabinet above the sink, pulling out the first aid kit and medical plasters. You can see the white in his hands, how he places the soft material into yours. It’s an option, a chance, to hide away the bad and deal with it later. No, it’s not a trick question nor will he judge your answer. You had heard the bandage he had peeled back just to show you the scar tissue. He had said himself about his mask. If you want, he’ll help you cover them up, so you can feel comfortable in yourself again. But the choice is up to you.

You nod quietly, and he takes the plaster, holding your chin with one hand whilst he presses it along the burn scar that reaches up the curve of your cheek. “There, all gone.” It’s nothing, and yet you let out a sigh of relief, to be rid of that finally was a burden off your chest. You can feel his gaze roaming you, or maybe that’s just his hands lingering down your arms, across your sides and patting down your legs. “Did you hurt yourself when you got up?” You shake your head quickly, and he tucks a hand behind your back, leading you out the bathroom before he clicks the light off.

You’re just about to murmur a thanks, or something quiet when sound breaches the air down the entire street. It’s threatening and so damn loud, shaking your brain chemistry back to the bombs you hear on the daily.. It makes your entire body prickle, the shattering sizzle something you only hear in warfare, but to cross over into real life is like a fever dream you never wanted to become true. Your legs scramble on the cold tiles, trying to get out and see what’s happening as quickly as possible. The sound in the air grows heavier as Ghost follows, likely trying to see the commotion too. You’ll need your gear, your boots, and your belt and your helmet and vest and weapons and his too, he’ll need his mask if you’re going to go help.

“Hey-”

You’re still scrambling, unable to make it to the door until a strong arm forces you back against a warm chest. “It’s fireworks. Almost the new year.”You pause, instantly going silent, and he sighs, just giving your hair a small ruffle before he smooths down the mess of it. “You don't even know what day it is—Do you?” You shake your head again, and he’s half tempted to chuckle at how tired he is and how wild this night is going. He walks you into his room, burying himself under the covers after you tentatively sit on the bed, unsure if he expects you to follow even after the countless times you’ve slept this close before. That is until greedy hands plant on your waist, pulling you down onto the bed as you let out a small gasp. Both arms wrap around your middle, pressing your chest to his as he slowly rubs up and down. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake if you have a nightmare.”

It’s a firm promise that he’ll help you, even as one of his large legs tuck between yours, keeping you impossibly close. Your breathing is still quiet, voice still silent, and he peeks an eye open at you before scanning your struck face up and down. “What’s wrong?” He’s caught a little off guard when you tuck your face into his neck; you’re just pleasantly surprised when no smell of burning copper goes to your brain this time. A sniffle is heard as your arms wrap around him too, and it just feels so, so strange.

For once, you are not grasping at cold fabric, desperately begging for an ounce of soft comfort. No, his neck is bare, and his skin is warm against you, an actual living breathing person existing beside you. It’s not rotting flesh, nor a lifeless form you’ve dreamt about clutching as you cried, mourning a lost teammate.

Still, what baffles you more is that never in your life have you felt him near you, never like this, never so bare like your minds are telepathically linked. Usually it’s his arm around your shoulders, simple yet not too touchy. Or perhaps a soft pat on the shoulder, a guiding palm on the lower back or even you taking advantage of the few times he swaps his balaclava for a surgical mask, opting to ruffle his hair while it’s present.

“Why’re you up Ghost? I wasn't the one who woke you.” . His chest sinks as you continue to sniffle, knowing he can't even be mad at you for seeing past him, and he sighs, the stubble of an unshaved jaw momentarily brushing against your forehead. “The fireworks.. set me off.” You stay quiet, sink into him a little longer as you both lay there, hearts beating against one another. There’s no point lying to you anymore, especially when he sees everything about himself in the way you act. Dealt entirely different hands in life and yet somehow led to the same conclusion, until you were here now, seeking comfort in one another. Slowly, your hand rubs up and down his back, making the stiff flesh slowly release the tension built between each cell. His body straights out a little, a shaky breath exhaling warmth onto the pillows.

“Thanks..love.” He murmurs quietly, and your nose nudges his neck, a silent response to his words in which he assumes is likely a ‘you’re welcome’ . His own nose buries into a few tufts of your hair, inhaling the clean scent of your shampoo. The both of you are here, still alive, still well. There are no explosions outside, no demands being asked of you and certainly no expectations to live up to. And you’d be damned if anyone even tried to ask you for anything right now, knowing well you weren't letting go of him until he did of you— which you both knew would never be anytime soon.

The week’s schedule shifts after that night, the interactions between you seem to have been planned according to a mutual understanding. Now you follow him everywhere, willingly too. Whether it was a grocery run in the early morning, the store was just empty enough to let you walk around with him without bumping into any customers. Or perhaps he’d drag you down to the park, let you sit on the benches and hear the soft sounds of nature. Your eyesight was becoming clearer much to your own relief, and you almost wanted to cry when you could read the time on the clock again. Still, he kept you close, letting you sit on the stool outside the shower or sit on the bed when he changed outfits. He felt comfortable, not entirely because you were still visually impaired but also because you made him feel comfortable, the shared vulnerability easing away at his hard walls. But the lack of sight really did help, and you knew because you felt his cheek brush against your ear when he shifted at movie nights. The way his bare nose would nudge your forehead to keep you awake whilst you indulged in a random crossword was nothing short of comfort either. It was most obvious when the sun began to set though, after he cooked you a hot dinner, and you’re allowed to let sleep come quickly with your head lolled lazily on his shoulder or if you’re extra lucky, even on his legs.

Like a loyal soldier, you followed his orders with glee. Like a good Lieutenant, he looked after you well, making sure that by the end of the night you were tucked safely beneath his blankets and shielded from the horrors of your own mind.

hope u enjoyed :)

a lil drabble extra

#simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon ghost fluff #simon ghost angst #ghost angst #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #call of duty angst #call of duty fanfic #ghost fanfiction

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pochaccoups · 1 year ago

Text

cw — reader is smaller than seungcheol, size kink, no smut but highly suggestive :3

When you waddle out of your bedroom at five o’clock on the dot, you’re met with Seungcheol sprawled across the living room couch with his arms crossed, near-falling asleep as Solo Levelling plays on the TV screen.

He hasn’t spotted you yet so you tip-toe closer to him, gaze fixed upon his face, only to collapse on top of him when you reach the couch.

He gives a surprised yelp that has a laugh mixed in, his arms absentmindedly settling around your torso.

“Hi,” he says. “Done with work?”

“Mhm,” you tell him.

Seungcheol’s fingers begin to flutter and tickle at your sides, prompting you to squeal and squirm away from him. You’re straddling him now, grasping each of his wrists and pinning them to the couch.

“I’ll kill you,” you joke, glaring at him and his mischief-filled eyes. For a moment your stare wanders to his biceps and how thick they look next to his head and you have to gulp to stop yourself from drooling.

“You’d never,” he taunts.

“Watch m-”

But before you can finish, your back hits the pillowy couch with a soft thud as Seungcheol flips you upside down and settles on your waist. He’s whipped enough that he puts barely a fraction of his weight on you for fear of crushing you. Grinning like a fiend, his arms bulge as he mirrors your position from two seconds ago by pinning your wrists to the couch this time.

The size of his shoulders consumes you. It’s dizzying, your head spinning as your mind wanders and draws the same image of him, only he’s… panting, sweating, his eyes darkened with desire as you take everything he gives you—you feel like a pervert, but god, how can anyone blame you when your best friend looks like that?

Reality smacks you across the face and you’re squirming, unintentionally grinding your hips against his which only makes things so much worse.

When your legs start to kick out against his back, Seungcheol only doubles down on his grip, eyes flashing with something mischievous as he sits up and all of a sudden manhandles you onto your stomach in spite of how you thrash and squeal.

You hate that there’s a pulse between your legs. Humiliating.

“Cheol…” you whine. He’s got your arms pinned to your back with just one of his massive fucking hands. It’s not hard to imagine him driving into you like this with all of his weight, pushing your head into the pillows, chuckling at your shameless moans as you writhe in pleasure.

“Yeah?” he asks.

You’re hesitating the next moment, because something crosses your mind and it’s horrible, terrible, utterly shameless. If you can Seungcheol even a little off guard though, then it’ll be worth it.

“Can you put me in a chokehold?”

“You-what?!”

“Please? You have big arms and I wanna know what it’s like,” you tell him, though that’s definitely not the only reason.

Seungcheol laughs and it’s a mixture of a scoff and something more nervous. It makes you grin for some reason—the fact that you’ve got Choi Seungcheol flustered.

He leans forward, lets go of your wrists, and slowly snakes one of his arms around your neck. Your heart beats hard, pounds in your ears, and there’s something else beating too. Between your legs.

You don’t realise it when your breath catches in your throat, and it’s not from Seungcheol’s thick arm wrapping snugly around your neck. His bicep is hard, flexing when he brings his other hand up to grab the back of your head. You also don’t realise that you’ve sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, or that you’ve started to rub your thighs together.

He doesn’t press, not hard anyway, but you think he must be reading your mind because he’s putting just enough pressure to ignite your senses and light your skin on fire.

Then, his breath is warm on your ear as he asks you, “Like that?”

His voice is so deep that it reaches your guts and it takes everything in you not to moan.

“Yeah, just like that.”

#svthub #scoups x reader #scoups smut #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #scoups fanfic #scoups x you #seungcheol x you #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagine #scoups imagines #[୨୧] — starring: seungcheol

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bimbroad · 3 months ago

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long-winded ramble about melvik and the arcane fandom

I really do believe the boom in the melvik ship has nothing to do with the show (obviously since they barely interacted) and more with black fans and fans of mel ( a black female character that they, by proxy, would have to be exposed to misogynoir when trying to engage with her content) separating themselves from the anti-black fandom into more niche places where outsiders are less likely to scrutinize. especially when you consider that the ship really started gaining more traction months after the show’s end (as opposed to right after or during, which is usually the case) and I think that correlates to the online harassment of mel (and meljay) fans ramping up. if someone is looking for non-art fan content of a character, most of it is revolved around shipping since solo, non-romantic fan fiction is unpopular and un-incentivized.

anybody who’s been a fan of mel since s1 (or has scrolled more than 3 times in her tags on social media) knows that meljay, despite being one of the few actually canon ships on the show, was disparaged, minimized and scrutinized basically since its inception, with most of the onus being on Mel. as her most popular ship arguably until now, that meant if you were somebody that enjoyed mel (or meljay) you were basically getting flashbanged by vitriol to the point a lot of her content was a) people trashing her character or ship b) people fighting back against that undue backlash and coming in dead last c) actual content for the ship in question. This got significantly worse after the arcane writers took 3 percs each during the s2 writing period and validated fanon malice against her character within the show, further emboldening them. if you were a fan of mel or her most popular ship (and once again, canon relationship), you were signing up to be bombarded by bad takes (im being generous) every time you wanted to engage.

sometimes what happens in huge fandoms amongst marginalized fans, I’ve seen people exhausted of dealing with the vitriol branch off into an unlikely, unpopular ship and make that the new “safe space” and I definitely think that’s what happened here.

with that being said, there’s something very funny (/positive) about melvik now compared to its earliest iterations. a lot of early fan-content had a mean-spirited slant to their interactions that you can tell was adopted from the larger, jayvik fanon that they despised each other. there were also a fair amount of consolation prize polycule fan fiction that felt like the writers weren’t confident in mel and viktor’s relationship on its own and the only thing that glued the love triangle together was wanting to appease jayce which is…lol. now it has its own fanon (e.i. pre-canon bitter exes) and better recognizes the merit of these characters outside of a polyamorous relationship. I’ve also noticed that there seems to be an uptick in fan content (art and fan fiction) that centers mel, or just outright de-centers jayce even if there is polyamorous relationship which wasn’t as common before. i wonder how much that has to do with mel fans using the ship as an escape from the hatred in her other tags.

i think now, despite the parallels the writers either unintentionally created or failed to capitalize on, one of the biggest appeals to the ship (and fandom) is that it just embraces absurdism as a crack-ship that could’ve actually had some merit in the show if arcane wasn’t written like that™️. meljay is always diminished and those two character’s love for each other gets debated every day ending in y, but with melvik there’s no real need to prove itself. it’s a “why the hell not” ship and now that the arcane fandom at large is starting to catch onto the fact it exists, it’s very funny seeing people argue about how a relationship like that could never happen in canon, as if fandom has ever upheld the original content as something non-transformative and above individual interpretation LMAO….

anyway. all of this to say that im a #nooticer and i #nootice things

#mel medarda #melvik #meljay

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kisakis-boyfriend · 20 days ago

Note

your choice of alphabet or letters for trans yusuke and/or trans akechi? maybe even mishima - you choose who and how many of these characters

rare to see them get written 🥴

Author's Note: I would like to do all three, especially since there's not enough p5 x male reader in the world, but what I'm going to do is fill out Yusuke's alphabet here, and save Akechi and Mishima for later, after I've completed other people's requests. :3 — This is a college AU as well, so Yusuke is 18+. The reader is also a phantom thief! And I also HC that Yusuke is autistic, so there's a lot of talk about the sensory input/experience of sexual activities!

For our 3000 follower celebration! (CLOSED NOW)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

I hope you like compliments…because Yusuke won't shut up, even after he falls asleep he tends to sleep talk and compliment you in his dreams 😅

He wants his arms around you too, though he's going to be pretty shy about it. Yusuke might not ask outright, or if he does, it will be accompanied by pink cheeks and sparse eye contact.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Yusuke is oddly fond of his torso. It's just a nice shape, and he's not too scrawny, but not too muscular either.

Of yours, he finds your jawline beautiful. He'd probably say that about all of your features too, but your jawline catches his attention moreso.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

He's the kind of guy who trembles every time he ejaculates, gripping whatever is within his reach as his orgasm hits hard.

If you edge him, Yusuke will cum so much, and the orgasm will be a bit overwhelming. It's actually hard for him to stop cumming once that release hits 😅

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Oh, this sweet guy. Yusuke swoons every time he sees you in your phantom thief attire. The way the leather hugs your body, showing off your outline sinfully, makes his mouth water. He secretly wishes you would dominate him while you're in a palace/jail/whatever else you come across as a phantom thief.

In his horny mind, you're pinning his arms above his head, pressing your leather-clad body against his, with that signature smirk playing on your lips. The masks make it difficult to kiss each other, so you opt for putting your fingers in his mouth instead. Your knee pushes between his legs, and it takes all of Yusuke's willpower not to cum on the spot! You lean forward to whisper in his ear and– that's usually when the fantasy gets interrupted by something or someone, but a man can daydream, right?

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Net zero experience, not even with porn. Yusuke is familiar with the human body, being a student of the arts and using real people as models for years. But that couldn't have prepared him for kinky gay sex–

He's rather shy about it all, but if you have patience with him, Yusuke comes to enjoy whatever you teach him. You do ruin his mind a little bit though…after getting together with you, Yusuke has all sorts of kinky fantasies (see above ⬆️)

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. May include a visual)

It's boring, but, missionary. The eye contact, being able to kiss you easily, and the fact that you have easy access to bite and suck on his chest is nice~

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Unintentionally goofy, but we love that about him 💙

Sometimes Yusuke will squeak when he moans, and it gets a chuckle out of you because it sounds silly and adorable. He also babbles when he's overstimulated, which makes you laugh at the endless stream of nonsense coming out of his mouth.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Again, art student's gonna art. He probably would experiment with different bush shapes and lengths, rarely keeping his pubic hair the same. It's also the same indigo colour of his other hair, fyi.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Quite intimate, albeit a bit stiff at times, but when you assure Yusuke that you want him closer and want to savor his reactions to stimuli, he relaxes and lets loose. He's romantic, but in a very "Yusuke" manner (AKA autistic art student romantic)

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Before you came along, Yusuke barely had an idea of what masturbation was. I mean, he knew that it was something most people partake in, but he never had those urges when he was a teen.

Now look at what you've done to him… your pretty boy is rubbing himself under his clothes and whimpering to the thought of your voice and all of the filth you fill his head with on an almost daily basis!

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Shibari/bondage, wax play, sensual body painting, sensory deprivation, leather, biting, temperature play (ice specifically)… there are probably more somewhere in his lewd head.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He has become quite fond of sex in a bathhouse, but other than that, he's not too picky. A dimly lit room with some candles is always appreciated.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Staring at your body too long, allowing his mind to drift back to those scenarios that play out in his head. Having you sit behind him/sitting in your lap. Seeing you outplay someone who thinks they're better/smarter than you will also make Yusuke a little hot under the collar.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Actual public sex, CNC, rough/hardcore free use (gentle free use could be negotiated though 👀)

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

I feel like Yusuke would really fall in love with receiving oral… not that he hates sucking your cock, but the sensory experience of being eaten out is highly preferred — the tingles traveling up his legs, across his torso, and the fuzzy feeling in his head when you have your entire tongue buried in his cunt~ Plus, you get so handsy with him while he's laying there with his legs spread, how could he not beg for more of that? 🥴

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Generally prefers a slower pace, but he won't stop you if you gradually speed it up/get rougher. Just don't hurt him for real.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Yusuke will whine, but he kind of enjoys them?! The rushed pace, frantically pulling each other close, sloppy kisses, and the dizzy feeling he gets after he cums — yeah, Yusuke masturbates later, or right after you leave while your cum is still dripping out of him/off of his body :P

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Sometimes, yes. Most artists would, and Yusuke is no exception. Some things he still wouldn't try; such as CNC, or painful kinks/acts, but if you ever want to try something new and fun, you only need to ask~

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

At least 3 rounds, but honestly, I think Yusuke could handle a bit more. When he gets turned on, it takes some time to be turned off. He may become more of a pillow prince during the later rounds, but Yusuke will tell you that he wants to keep going.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Yusuke owns exactly one toy — a thick monster dildo that you bought sort of as a joke, but he does actually use it, soooo…

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not a tease at all, though he adores when you tease him for sure 👀

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Noisy Inari. His moans are so hot, and Yusuke isn't afraid to let loose around you. If you tell him how sexy you find his moans, encourage him to get louder, then he certainly won't hold back~

Yusuke pants quite a bit in between those long, loud moans. His pussy is pretty loud too lol.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Period sex is something Yusuke is quite curious about. It seems strange, messy, and like more trouble than it's worth, but he's willing to try it just to see what it's like.

Spoiler alert: he fucking loves it and will beg for you to have sex with him, since it does help with the awful cramps 🥺

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

(I can't describe vaginas to save my life, man 😭) He's cute. That's the best I can do ggjskfsjk. With his tasteful, artistic pubic hair and soft milky thighs, he's cute down there.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Perhaps it's surprising to some, but Yusuke has a high libido only when he's dating someone. If he didn't have a partner or multiple partners, he might only masturbate occasionally. It's people that turn him on, and without those people, he doesn't have any motivation to bother with sex/masturbation.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Yusuke can normally stay awake just fine. He wouldn't mind some cuddles and perhaps a snack, but it's rare for him to fall asleep until it's actually bedtime. Now, if Yusuke has been stressed by classes, projects, or troubled with inspiration, he might have a short involuntary nap once you're done, but he wakes up within an hour.

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sevenheaven7011 · 6 months ago

Text

I need people to be fair to both Emmrich and Taash during their argument scene and see where both are coming from

See emmrich's culture is like constantly under scrutiny by everyone and everyone treats him suspiciously so he thinks if he educates people on it and talks about the positives he can like get people to turn their opinions on neverra and by extension him around He's probably thinking taash's hostility comes from not knowing alot about neverra and not like a discomfort around corspes

But on the flip side

Taash's mom is constantly (unintentionally invalidating their feelings) So like when Emmrich keeps bringing up corspe stuff despite them expressing their distaste it probably makes them feel similar to how they feel when they're talking to their mom Plus when they try to talk about dragons with Emmrich he shows like no interest so their own attempt at talking about what they like gets snubbed

Like Taash is in the wrong for name calling (Even though it's funny as hell) But like Emmrich in his attempts to get people to like necromancy like he does can be pushy at times and he also could've been nicer about not being interested in dragon triva

Point being stop pitting two bad bitches against each other

#dragon age veilguard #emmrich volkarin #taash #my favorite new dynamic two autistic people who don't give a damn about each other's special interests

152 notes · View notes

luxerians · 5 months ago

Text

The Last Mask (03)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 03 - Majority Votes

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 04

PREV : Chapter 02

Your arms trembled uncontrollably as you squeezed your eyes shut. Fear coursed through you, a cold, unrelenting wave. The thought of the doll catching even the smallest movement from you filled your chest with dread. You tried to will the trembling to stop, but your body refused to listen.

The doll’s head rotated back to the front, and you opened your eyes just in time to see it settling into place. Relief washed over you. Your trembling had gone unnoticed, at least for now.

“The Mugungha Flower…”

Quickly, you pulled your trembling arms to your chest, hugging them tightly to steady them. Your legs instinctively shifted into a wider stance, grounding you for balance. Around you, the field was utterly still. None of the players dared to move. Fear had locked everyone in place, their realization sinking in. Player 456 had been right. This wasn’t just a game. One wrong move, and it would all be over.

…has bloomed.”

The field remained frozen, not a single person daring to move. It felt like everyone was holding their breath, unwilling to risk even the smallest sound.

“The Mugungha Flower…”

You heard the sound of footsteps. In the corner of your vision, you caught sight of player 456 sprinting forward, weaving through the sea of motionless players.

…has bloomed.”

Everyone stopped again, as still as statues. The tension in the air was palpable.

“The Mugungha Flower…”

Player 456 broke through the crowd, dashing ahead with a burst of speed.

“…has bloomed.”

He froze at the exact moment the chant ended. He shouted, “You’ll also die if you don’t make it there in time! That doll is a motion detector! But it can’t detect motion that’s not visible to it!”

He paused and demonstrated, clenching and unclenching his hand behind his back. True to his words, no sound followed. No gunshot. You understood immediately what he was trying to convey.

“Get behind someone bigger than you! Like you’re doing Follow the Leader! We’re running out of time! We’ve got to move!”

“The Mugungha Flower…”

The chant began again, and everyone started moving. The sound of feet shuffling against the sand filled the air as players hurried to follow his advice. You quickly positioned yourself behind a taller player, number 120, a tall woman who stood just ahead of you. From the corner of your eye, you noticed others doing the same, forming multiple straight lines as they aligned themselves behind larger players.

“…has bloomed.”

You stopped immediately, staying directly behind player 120. Bending slightly, you kept your body low, hoping the doll wouldn’t detect you. Your trembling arms stayed locked against your chest, an effort to steady them.

Crack!

The sound made you flinch. Another body hit the ground with a dull thud.

Crack!

Silence followed as another player collapsed. You didn’t dare look.

“The Mugungha Flower…”

Everyone moved forward cautiously, keeping to their lines. The sound of shuffling feet filled the air. You noticed more players had lined up behind you, forming a growing chain. Player 120, standing tall in front of you, had unintentionally become the leader of your line.

“…has bloomed.”

You froze. You noticed player 120 had stood up straighter. She was shielding you and the others behind her. Her actions spoke louder than words; she knew she was the cover for everyone in her line and she had no problem with it.

From your right, a faint commotion broke through the stillness. You heard a soft “why” before three gunshots shattered the air. The field grew quiet again as the chaos subsided.

“The Mugungha Flower…”

The players jogged forward, advancing steadily. You noticed player 120 slowing just before the chant ended, giving those behind her extra time to halt safely.

“…has bloomed.”

The cycle continued, round after round. Occasionally, gunshots echoed across the field, signaling more casualties. Each time, you held your arms tighter to your chest, forcing your trembling limbs to stay still. With each round, the finish line drew closer, inch by inch.

When the doll turned its head toward the tree, player 456’s voice rang out: “Let’s go!”

“The Mugungha Flower…”

Most of the players broke formation, abandoning their lines to sprint toward the finish line. You followed suit. Your arms, no longer locked to your chest, swung freely at your sides as you pushed yourself forward.

As the pink line drew closer, you gave it everything you had. When you reached it, you jumped, your feet landing safely past the boundary. Relief flooded you as you stumbled to the ground, collapsing in exhaustion. For a moment, you just lay there, catching your breath. Around you, others who had crossed also expressed their relief, lying, collapsing, or sitting down out of exhaustion.

You turned your gaze back to the field. From where you sat, it looked like roughly seventy percent of the players had made it across. The remaining players were still on the field, their lines fractured and disorganized.

“…has bloomed.”

The players who hadn’t yet crossed froze in place, their bodies stiff. Gunshots rang out again, and you flinched as a few unfortunate players fell to the ground. One man, hit in the thigh, collapsed with a sharp cry of pain, clutching his leg as blood began to pool beneath him.

“You can do it!” player 456 shouted. “You’re almost there!”

“The Mugungha Flower has bloomed.”

The man who had been shot whimpered. “Please help me.”

You frowned, concern gnawing at you as you watched him struggle. Your eyes shifted to player 456, who glanced quickly at the timer.

“The Mugungha Flower…”

He sprinted past the finishing line, rushing straight toward the injured player. You scrambled to your feet, your heart pounding as you watched player 456 reach the fallen man.

“…has bloomed.”

Gunshots cracked through the air again, but player 456 and the injured player remained unharmed.

“The Mugungha Flower…”

Player 456 quickly wrapped the injured player’s arm around his neck, lifting him off the ground. Together, they began limping toward the finish line, but their movements were awkward and unsteady. Then they stumbled.

“…has bloomed.”

To your shock, player 120 appeared out of nowhere, catching them before they could fall. She propped them up, steadying the pair just as the chant ended. The three of them froze. Everyone in the finishing area, including you, watched with bated breath.

“The Mugungha Flower…”

With only five seconds left, the three of them surged forward, rushing toward the finish line. Your lips pursed as fear and suspense gripped you. You silently prayed they would make it in time.

As they crossed the finish line, the doll completed its chant: “…has bloomed.”

The timer beeped, signaling zero. Relief washed over you as you saw player 456, player 120, and the injured player 444 collapse onto the ground, breathing heavily in the finishing area.

“Are you okay?” player 456 asked, patting player 444 on the back.

“Thank you,” player 444 sniffled, his voice trembling. He turned to player 120. “Thank you-”

Crack!

You flinched as the sound echoed across the area. Player 444’s head snapped back, and his body crumpled to the ground with a heavy thud.

“Player 444, eliminated,” the female robotic voice announced.

You stared at the lifeless body in front of you. His face was bloodied from the headshot wound, and a pool of fresh blood began to spread around his head. Your arms started trembling again, this time without restraint. There was no need to stay frozen anymore so your fear had taken over completely. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the gruesome sight.

This… this was just as horrifying as the day you found your father and mother on the front porch, their tortured and battered bodies lying there like broken shells. The memory slammed into you, raw and unrelenting, blending with the horror of the moment.

All of you who survived the first game were led back to the dormitory where you had first woken up. The atmosphere was heavy. Fear lingered in the air, and many players huddled together under the dim light of the empty piggy bank hovering above.

You found yourself sitting near player 456 and his friend, player 390. Maybe it was instinct or subconscious reasoning – your mind seeking some semblance of safety or guidance. Being near player 456 felt like the closest thing to a haven in this deadly situation.

“Gi-hun,” you heard player 390 say, addressing player 456. “What the hell is that creepy doll? It shoots people with its eyes.”

Player 456 glanced at him. “It’s not the doll. There are shooters.”

Curiosity got the better of you, and you leaned in slightly. “How… do you know?”

Both player 456 and player 390 turned to look at you, as if noticing your presence for the first time. Before either could answer, a beeping noise cut through the tense air.

The lights flickered on, brightening the dormitory. The double doors at the front slid open, and a group of pink-clad guards marched in. The sight of them sent waves of panic through the room. Players scrambled backward, some ducking behind beds or hiding underneath them. Whimpers and muffled cries filled the space as others climbed up to the top bunks in a desperate bid for safety. You instinctively moved behind player 390, who was already using player 456 as a shield.

“Congratulations for making it through the first game,” announced the square-masked guard. “Here are the results of the first game.”

The large TV screen above the double doors flickered on, displaying the statistics.

“Out of 456 players, 84 players have been eliminated. 372 players have completed the first game. Congratulations again for making it through the first game.”

Suddenly, the mother, player 149, dragged her son, player 007, toward the center of the room. Tears streamed down her face. She dropped to her knees while her son stood awkwardly beside her. “Sir! Please don’t kill us! I beg you! As for my son’s debt, I will do whatever it takes to pay you back! Please forgive us!”

Then, she tugged at her son’s arm, pulling him down to the floor. “Don’t just stand there. Beg for his forgiveness!”

Her son reluctantly joined her, lowering himself to the ground and pleading for mercy. As their cries echoed in the dormitory, the square-masked guard spoke, “There seems to be a misunderstanding.”

But the mother and son weren’t alone. More players crawled toward the center, their voices rising in desperation as they begged for forgiveness. The sight of so many people pleading made your chest tighten. You hoped that all of you could be set free due to their pleads. The thought of staying in this killing field any longer was unbearable.

You wanted to go home. Back to Ji-yoo and your parents. The money didn’t matter anymore. You could always find another part-time job, no matter how grueling, as long as it meant staying alive.

Then, player 456 stood up from the floor in front of you. “Clause three of the consent form!”

The room fell silent as all eyes turned toward him. He stepped forward, walking to the center of the room. “The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. Correct?”

The guard nodded. “That is correct.”

“Then let us take a vote right now,” player 456 demanded.

“Of course. We respect your right to freedom of choice.”

A wave of relief swept through the players. You heard murmurs of gratitude, and some players visibly relaxed, hopeful at the chance to leave.

“But first,” the guard interjected, “let me announce the prize amount that’s been accumulated.”

He pressed a button on a remote, and the dormitory lights dimmed. Only the golden glow from the giant piggy bank above illuminated the room. A familiar jingle played, signaling the announcement of money.

Stacks of cash began to drop into the transparent piggy bank, the bills piling higher with each passing second. The sight drew players out of their hiding spots. They moved cautiously at first but soon gathered around the center, no longer fearful. Everyone stared at the growing fortune in awe, including you. The golden light reflected in your eyes as the weight of the moment sank in.

As the stacks of banknotes stopped accumulating in the piggy bank, the guard announced:

“The number of players eliminated in the first game is 84. Therefore, a total of 8.4 billion won has been accumulated. If you quit the games now, the 372 of you can equally divide the 8.4 billion won and leave with your share.”

“How much is that?” player 100 asked.

“Each person’s share would be 22,580,645 won.”

You dropped your gaze, disillusioned. Around you, other players voiced their dissatisfaction.

“Twenty million? You said 45.6 billion!” Thanos retorted angrily.

The guard clarified, “The rule is that a hundred million won will be accumulated for each eliminated player. If you choose to play the next game and more players get eliminated, the prize amount will increase accordingly.”

“How much will it be if you survive until the end?” player 100 queried.

“As I already told you, the total amount of prize money for all 456 players is 45.6 billion won. Those who make it through all six games will equally divide the 45.6 billion won.”

“So if you’re the only one to survive, you get 45.6 billion?”

“That is correct.”

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the group as the players processed this. The sheer possibility of such a massive fortune left many in awe.

“So we can take a vote again and decide to leave after the next game?” another player asked.

“As promised in the consent form, you can take a vote after each game and decide to leave with the prize money accumulated up to that point. We always prioritize your voluntary participation.”

A heavy silence settled over the room as everyone contemplated their choices. The explanation had made you question your own decision, your resolve wavering as the implications sunk in.

“Now, let’s begin the vote.”

The guards moved swiftly, setting up the voting system in no time. A counter with X and O buttons was placed at the front. The dormitory floor lit up to indicate the voting areas: the right side glowed red for X, and the left side shone blue for O.

Almost every player stood at the back of the hall, clustered together, as the guard announced, “If you wish to continue the games, press the O button. If you wish to end them, press the X button. The vote will be held in reverse order of your player numbers. Player 456.”

You glanced to your side where player 456 stood. After a brief moment, he stepped forward, leaving the crowd behind and heading toward the counter.

“It’s all pointless!” a voice called out, breaking the silence. Everyone’s attention shifted to player 044, perched on one of the highest bunk beds. “You didn’t decide when to come into this world, and you can’t decide when you leave it either. When and where you die were already decided by the gods the moment you were born. No matter how hard you try, you can never escape it.”

Player 456 didn’t acknowledge her words. He resumed walking, his focus on the counter ahead. When he reached it, he wasted no time and pressed the X button. A deep ping echoed through the hall as the TV screen above displayed the updated vote.

“Once you finish voting,” the guard said, “put the patch you are given on the right side of your chest and stand on the side you have chosen.”

From your position at the back, you watched as player 456 fixed the red X patch to his chest and walked over to stand on the X side of the hall.

“Player 454,” the guard called next.

A female player stepped forward with steady strides. To your surprise, she pressed the O button, creating a lighter ping sound. After fixing the blue O patch on her chest, she walked to the O side of the room. The process continued, players being called one by one in reverse order. You stayed silent, your gaze fixed on the TV screen as it updated with each vote.

Then the guard called your number. “Player 423.”

You stepped forward. The weight of countless gazes bore into your back, but you kept walking until you reached the counter. Staring at the buttons, you felt the temptation of the piggy bank linger in your mind. But the thought of your own life outweighed everything else. You pressed the X button, and the deep ping filled the air once more.

The guard handed you the red X patch. You fixed it to the right side of your chest before turning and heading toward the X area. As you reached player 456, he nodded politely, and you returned the gesture before standing beside him. Together, you watched the votes continue.

Soon, player 390 was called. He also voted for X and joined you and player 456 on the same side, nodding in quiet acknowledgment as he took his place.

More and more players were called to vote, and the results seemed to be edging toward a tie. When Thanos’ turn came, he jogged up to the counter like an excited kid and pressed the O button with a wide grin.

His enthusiasm seemed to set something off in player 456.

“Wait a minute, everyone! Wait!” he called out, his voice cutting through the murmurs and turning every head.

Stepping out of the X area, he positioned himself in the center, between the X and O sides, facing the players who had yet to vote. “You can’t do this. Come to your senses! Don’t you see? These aren’t just any games. We will all die if we keep playing! We have to get out of here now. With a majority vote, we can! We must stop here!”

Before the tension could settle, player 100 burst out of the crowd of unvoted players, his voice booming. “Who do you think you are?! Why do you keep egging people on like that?! You scared us by saying they’d shoot us before the game even began!”

You frowned, agitation bubbling up. He literally saved us by warning us, and now you’re blaming him?

“That’s right!” a female player who had already voted O stepped forward. “He was going on about how we’d die, and I almost did because I got so nervous!”

“How did you know they were going to shoot us?” another unvoted player, number 226, asked suspiciously. “Are you one of them?”

Player 100 pointed accusingly at player 456 and addressed the pink-clad guards. “Are you conning us all by pretending to be a player? Did you plant him to mess with our heads?!”

Player 390, who had been standing beside you, stepped forward to defend his friend. “Uncle, that’s uncalled for. We wouldn’t have won the game and survived if it weren’t for him!”

Several players in the X area nodded in agreement, silently backing him up. Player 390 turned toward player 226. “And you! I saw how scared you were. Your legs were shaking. You should thank him, not treat him like a fraud!”

Player 226 bristled. “And who the hell are you? Are you conspiring with him?”

“How rude,” player 390 shot back. “How old are you?”

“Older than you. What are you going to do about it?”

“Come on now, stop it!” player 149, the frail mother, stepped into the center beside player 456. Her voice was gentle but firm. “Please don’t do this. Listen, everyone. None of us would be alive if it weren’t for this gentleman. So enough with the greed. Let’s put our lives first and get out of this place!”

The dormitory erupted into chaos as X voters raised their voices in a loud clamor.

“That’s right!”

“Let’s all get out of here!”

O voters weren’t backing down, shouting over them.

“No, we have to keep playing!”

You furrowed your eyebrows, silently hoping the unvoted players would side with X. Lives should come first.

Suddenly, player 456 screamed, his frustration spilling over. “I have played these games before!”

The room fell silent as every eye turned to him. Even you felt a jolt of shock, your eyes widening at his outburst.

“I have done this before!” he admitted, his voice heavy with emotion. “I knew about the first game because I played it three years ago! Everyone who was with me back then… they all died!”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Player 390 looked stunned, his disbelief written all over his face. But you believed it instantly. It explained how he had known about Red Light, Green Light and the deadly stakes involved.

“Hold on,” player 226 asked, his tone skeptical. “If they all died, how did you survive? Are you saying you were the sole winner?”

Player 456 hesitantly admitted. “That’s right. I was the final winner.”

A wave of murmurs swept through the room, a mix of disbelief and awe. You stared at him, still processing the revelation. Player 456 declared, “If we continue these games, every single person here, just like everyone back then, will die in the end.”

Player 100 scoffed, his skepticism turning into mockery. “Bullshit. If you were the sole winner, it means you got 45.6 billion won. If that’s true, why would you come back here?”

“That’s right! He’s lying!” shouted a woman from the O area.

Thanos came forward. “If you really won, it works better for us. You can give us tips on how to beat these games.”

“That’s right!” player 100 chimed in. “We have a previous winner with us, so what’s the problem?!”

You couldn’t hold back a scoff, drawing attention from those around you. Player 100 glared, but you held your ground and spoke calmly. “Do you really think the next games will be exactly the same as before?”

The room shifted as all eyes turned to you. You took a steadying breath and continued. “They know there’s a previous winner here. They’re not going to let him give us an advantage. The games could be entirely different tomorrow, but we know one thing. elimination means death. We should prioritize surviving over chasing money.”

The X voters nodded in agreement, their support growing louder as your words sank in.

Player 100’s glare intensified, his frustration spilling over. “Hush, girl! Stop complicating things. If the Red Light, Green Light game was the same as three years ago, why wouldn’t the rest of them be the same too? Maybe we actually have an advantage this time. Ever think of that?”

His words struck a chord with some of the players, drawing nods from a few O voters.

Before you could reply, Thanos stepped in with a casual shrug. “Pretty lady, you might be overthinking it. There is a previous winner among us. What else should we worry about?”

“And who even are you?” player 226 interjected. “You're still young. You don't know what we've been through."

Player 390 stood protectively beside you. “Wah, you all really got blind. She's got a point. At least she’s thinking ahead, unlike some people who can’t see past their own greed.”

He shot a pointed look at player 100.

“Greed?” player 100 snapped, his voice rising. “I’m trying to survive! I don't give up so easily like all of you! I don't think you all deserve that 20 million won share!"

The room quickly descended into chaos as X voters and O voters began shouting over each other. Accusations and insults flew from both sides, the noise growing louder and more heated by the second.

You sighed loudly, frustration boiling inside you as the shouting escalated. The decision weighed heavily on the unvoted players, who stood frozen in uncertainty. Glancing toward player 456, you saw him watching the chaos with an unreadable expression.

Then he turned to the unvoted players, desperation etched into his voice. “Please, I’m begging you. We have to get out now! If we keep playing, more people will die. That could be you. We have to stop this now and get out of here.”

Before he could continue, a triangle-masked guard marched forward, pressing his gun against player 456’s back. The tension in the room skyrocketed as the shouting stopped instantly. Player 456’s body tensed, his arms frozen at his sides.

“From here on, we will not tolerate actions that disrupt the voting process,” the square-masked guard announced coldly. “Now, let’s resume the vote. Player 228.”

The triangle-masked guard kept the gun trained on player 456, who slowly raised his arms in surrender. The rest of the players hesitantly returned to the voting, the silence now thick and oppressive. You couldn’t help but glance at player 456 who stood under the guard’s watchful aim.

As the voting progressed, you noticed the gun still pointed at player 456 even after several players had cast their votes. Your anxiety spiked. Unable to stand it any longer, you pushed through the crowd of X voters, drawing a few surprised looks as you made your way toward him.

When you reached him, several eyes, including his, turned to you. You gently took hold of his sleeve and said softly, “Come on. Let’s go back in.”

Player 456 gave a small nod before meeting the guard’s gaze. The triangle-masked guard, interpreting this as compliance, finally lowered his weapon. You led player 456 back to the X zone, standing once again beside player 390. The guard returned to his position behind the square-masked guard, and the voting resumed.

The minutes stretched on as votes were cast. You watched anxiously as the numbers edged closer and closer to a tie. Your heart sank when the tally on the screen displayed an almost even split.

[X: 185 | O: 186].

The guard called out the final player. “Player 001.”

All heads turned to the far back of the room, where the last player stood.

“Everyone, say O!” Thanos shouted suddenly.

“O!”

“X!” came the counter-shouts from the X zone.

You bit your lip, your nerves fraying as player 001 walked between the chanting zones toward the counter. Your mind raced with silent pleas. Please. Just one more vote for X. If we gets a tie, we could still vote tomorrow. Some players will come to their sense in time.

The room went quiet as player 001 reached the counter. All eyes locked on the screen, waiting. Then, after a few quiet seconds, a lighter ping echoed through the room.

The tally updated. [X: 185 | O: 187].

Your shoulders slumped. On the other side of the dormitory, the O voters erupted into cheers. They hollered and clapped, their earlier fear and hesitation forgotten in their celebration. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of bitterness as you watched them, remembering how quickly they had scrambled away from the pink guards after the first game. Now, all they care about is money.

The X voters’ reactions were a stark contrast. Some groaned in disappointment, others shook their heads in frustration, and a few simply stood still, their faces pale and haunted. The fear in their eyes was unmistakable. No matter how they had voted, the realization that they would continue risking their lives weighed heavily on everyone.

As the O voters continued their celebration, players from the X zone began filing out quietly, heading for their bunks. You glanced at player 456, who still stood frozen in place, looking defeated.

You let out a small sigh and nudged player 456 gently. “Hey. It’s disappointing, but what else can we do? Let’s go.”

Player 456 didn’t say anything. His gaze lingered on the screen for a moment longer before he turned to follow you and player 390. Together, the three of you walked towards the corner of the right side of the hall.

NEXT : Chapter 04

PREV : Chapter 02

Story Masterlist

I would love to know what you think so feel free to comment as long as you could!

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

#hwang in ho #hwang in ho x reader #hwang in ho fanfic #in ho #the front man #player 001 #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #front man x reader #front man x you

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thegurlwhoisntthere · 11 months ago

Text

It’s really interesting to me that— and spoilers for those who haven’t seen season 6—

Rayla tells Callum to choose the greater good, to sacrifice her instead of doing dark magic, but she’s never actually been in that position, so she literally doesn’t know how hard it’s going to be.

Like, Callum’s had to make the choice to save her life 3 times at this point. The first time he did Dark Magic when the dragon was chained, the second time when he followed her off the cliff, and the third time when he did dark magic again. Each time Callum was faced with losing her and came to the conclusion that he couldn’t do it, so made the choice to save her no matter what.

Rayla, on the other hand, has not yet been put in this position. She’s been put into the position of sacrifice, yes, but each time the only person in danger is her. She is the one who would die protecting the dragon. She is the one who would die taking out Viren. So when Callum tells her that he should let her die, it seems like just another sacrifice for her to make, not him.

In doing this she is unintentionally validating his motives and reciprocating them, because of how she argues against it. Unlike back in season 2 when he did dark magic, here she argues that it hurts him, that it leaves him vulnerable to what he is afraid of, and she would die to make sure he doesn’t have to do that. And while she doesn’t really pick up on this, Callum does, at least a little bit.

Because there is another time Rayla was faced with sacrificing Callum for the greater good and didn’t even consider doing it. She outright said no when he asked, but in her mind it doesn’t even cement as plausible. And that honestly makes it worse.

Because if she’s incapable of even considering the option of killing him when it’s just a hypothetical scenario, then she’s definitely going to break her promise when the time comes, just like he would.

#and I just think that’s so iNteReSTiNg #because they would both do literally anything for the other #but the other doing anything for them is crossing a line #they’re so stupid #the dragon prince spoilers #the dragon prince #dragon prince #dragon prince spoilers #TDP #tdp rayllum #tdp s6 spoilers #tdp rayla #tdp callum #tdp season 6 #tdp s6 #tdp spoilers

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savannahsdeath · 2 years ago

Note

hii i love ur work!! id love to read about chess player!ellie x chess player!reader hate fucking the shit out of each other after one of them wins the tournament 🤭🤭

"You're not as boring as I thought...

...you are not as bright, either."

warnings: 18+!! edging, brat!reader, slight mean!ellie, dom!ellie, sub!reader, yeah js.. smut

writers note: i never told u guys before but pspsp.. i play chess !! so surprising right🤭🤭 and yes i used dominiques quote because . and . also ...,.

"what the fuck was that, huh?" she asked with a serious, cold tone. and maybe you'd even bother to answer, if she wasn't about nine inches deep in you. you rolled your eyes with a quiet whimper. "what? gonna throw a tantrum? i'm the one who should be mad. shit— i am fuckin' mad."

"see, el— maybe..." you hiccuped, managing to fully open your half-lidded eyes for a second. "maybe i'm just... better."

"better?" her eyes widened in shock, because even though she knew how much of a brat you can be she wasn't expecting that.

at some point, you were right. on the other hand, you didn't have to rub it in her face like that.

⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

you could tell she had studied the art of offensive chess for quite some time. she would frequently sacrifice her pieces to gain control of the center of the board, relying on her opponent's hesitations to gain a positional advantage. however, her tactics had limitations.

as you continued to play defensively, her attacks became more predictable, and you were able to counter them. while you wondered how she had reached this level, you had to admit that her strategy would work perfectly against a not patient or uncertain opponent. time didn't matter to you, not as much as to your rival, so you easily took advantage of it.

she looked either bored or amused most of the time, keeping the atmosphere more relaxed than it should be. "...so those girls like chess players, y'know? they're just so easy-"

"focus." you cut her off in an indifferent tone. the fact that she wasn't paying much attention to your moves, busy with talking, was good, but her rambling also distracted you. you clicked the little button on the clock, signaling it's ellie's turn. "i get it, people like smart girls." you mumbled, leaning back in your chair. "are you one of them, though?" you continued in a doubting voice, unintentionally insulting her.

her usual smirk didn't leave her face but you could see her bite the inside of her cheek in slight annoyance or even frustration. "i'm gonna show you." she nodded, as if to reassure herself with a silent 'yeah, just you wait!' which you couldn't help but laugh at. well, maybe not laugh, but chuckle under your breath. your comment must really bother her, to the point you ruined her offensive tactic.

"you're not as boring as i thought..." you scanned the board through your firm gaze, searching for any potential threats. you straightened up, propping your elbows on the small table and laying your head on your hands, impatiently tapping your cheeks. as soon as she clicked the little knob you already knew what'll your move be, so you quickly extended your hand. "you're not as bright, either." you picked up your knight, tauntingly pattering it through the squares, mimicking a real horse. finishing the L-shaped distance seemed to take you ages, though it was really less than four seconds. you let go of it, making a muffled knocking sound as it hit the wooden board. "checkmate." you whispered, folding your hands and tilting your head.

you took a moment to take in her reaction, which, much to your disappointment, wasn't an interesting scene. in fact, her smirk only widened as she looked at the clock and saw what led to this - her reckless haste. she hummed and shook your hand, what showed that she agreed with the score.

"how could i not notice that?" she smiled, letting you know it doesn't matter to her. you started to wonder about her strange behaviour, which seemed weird compared to the known, easy to piss off ellie williams. and just then, you understood everything's how it should be. her grip on your hand painfully tightened, as if to prove that your suspicion is correct.

⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

you felt her strap slid out of you, leaving your cunt hopelessly clenching around nothing. you raised your head, letting out a needy whimper and hoping to see what was she's up to. "els—"

"shut up." she murmured as she parted your thighs, revealing herself between them. she leaned down to have your slit at her eye level, with a quiet growl. "you're such a—" her tongue ran up and down your lips, collecting most of the slick you have accumulated. she looked up at you with a proud smirk. "fuckin' slut."

your fingers uncontrollably tangled with her hair, tugging on it while your free hand gripped the bed sheets. your cunt was still sensitive after being filled with her strap, so her soothing tongue felt comfortingly painful. she lightly sucked on your clit, forcing a desperate moan out of you.

"so you're the smart one? is that right?" she asked, her voice interrupted by either your little gasps or her breaks to plant another kiss on your core. "why don't you say something smart then?" her mocking tone echoed in your head as you tried to form a sentence. before you could, she stuck her tongue in your throbbing hole, making your thighs snap shut. she quickly helped them regain to their previous position, not pulling her hands away for longer than needed as if she wanted to make sure her fingers will leave a reminder, in form of at least reddening your sensitive skin or, most likely, giving you some bruises.

you felt your climax approaching so soon it felt embarrassing, truly embarrassing. you started babbling nonsense as your cunt clenched around her tongue, which continued to fuck in and out of you.

the amazing feeling suddenly left, replaced by her thumb roughly circling your clit. you watched as she sat up and smiled down at you, licking her lips in a temptingly slow way. the brat living inside of you was the first one to speak up, huffing out her name in an obviously annoyed gesture.

"c'mon." she cooed in a mockingly sweet voice, making sure her thumb is doing a good job. good job at torturing, ruining and making you even more desperate, if that's even possible. "what would a smart girl say in your situation?" she clicked her tongue, making you feel all the control you had slid out between your fingers and sink into the bed sheets. no matter how much you didn't want to admit it, someone finally managed to make you feel hopeless.

"but, ellie, look—" you whined, trying to take as much satisfaction from the touch she was giving you, but it only seemed like a pathetic version of what you could have. you could have way more. you needed way more.

"i don't want to hear any buts." she stopped her thumb, hardly pressing it against your clit, staring at you with stern and serious eyes which you weren't used to see from her. "we both know what a smart girl should say, yeah? aren't you one? are you admitting you're just a slut?" she sighed as if she was disappointed in you.

you shook your head, closing your eyes from the mix of all possible emotions; from embarrassment to proudness. "please, need— need you and... oh, please, ellie..." you broke, begging for more in the most miserable way imaginable.

she bitterly laughed, murmuring an amused "god, you're really a slut" under her breath. her thumb left your clit and both of her hands found their place on your thighs, making you hiss at the touch of your earlier irritated skin. you whined, the sound of your rambling slowly drifting away and getting replaced by just as beautiful moans. you heard her voice but you didn't really understand what she said, nor paid any attention to it, as your mind went blank. your hips kept waving up and down, trying to add to the feeling. your miserable attempts earned either a chuckle or scoff from ellie, but she didn't even try to stop you, enjoying this as much as you.

hooking up with bimbo's might be easy, but making a mess out of a girl smarter than her was way more satisfying.

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idlerin · 11 months ago

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love sick — 10. ur like an exorthermic reaction

romance 101; ideal partner #14 — someone who would be down to go to trips or do some fun activities with me!

suna observed the way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks. the lights blazing colors in mixtures of red, blue, and purple. each of the hues seemingly highlights your features most excruciatingly. he couldn’t place exactly why it was so unbearable. perhaps it was because it was putting you in a light he’s resisted seeing you in for the past few days.

so far, he was winning.

“they’re next,” you absentmindedly tug on the sleeves of his shirt, gaze still focused on the stage where you waited for semi to show up, “they’re really good!” you hype them up more, a buzz in the tone of your voice.

“do they play originals?” suna asks, an arm slung around your shoulder. the both of you chose to stand close to the walls because it was easier for suna to prop himself to a more comfortable position. there were plenty of people in the crowd which caused the two of you to press closer against each other—he asked in the car ride if you went to these gigs often and you said yes, he wondered how you stayed cooped up in places like these alone considering the prissy princess idea he’s had of you for a long while now—in the process, you casually resumed a couple-like position. it wasn’t like there was anyone here you needed to put up an act with now.

suna didn’t want to dig into that thought deeper.

“ei likes to mix it up sometimes. they don’t always perform here, specifically, of course. i’ve noticed that his band usually starts with a cover song and then an original. he’s a really good songwriter, he’s been writing songs since high school,” you began to ramble, occasionally looking up at suna pointedly as if emphasizing your words. you had to lean in a bit closer in case he couldn’t hear you well with the noise surrounding you both.

“so you’ve been present and supporting him since the very beginning?” suna urges you to continue with his reply, yet his eyes were surveying over the place, trying not to make you the center of his attention.

“well, duh! i’ve known him before i could even form proper sentences,” you shift and cross your arms over your chest. causing your hair to brush against suna’s collar, making him fail in not having you his focus. his thoughts now went to your perfume and how it would linger in his car later on.

“that long, huh. i haven’t been close to anyone for years close to that, the closest would probably be the miya twins,” suna starts to share about himself, to your surprise.

“i find it hard to keep long-lasting friendships,” you confess, putting more of your weight on suna unintentionally, jutting out your lip in a subtle pout, “i’m lucky i have ei and the others.”

suna found himself focusing on your lips, they were tinged with a darker shade you usually wore. it contrasted the appearance you usually put yourself in around campus. it suited you even though it wasn’t anything he was used to, that made it more appealing. it was distracting, to say the least.

why did he even agree to go here?

he had no reason to. he was tired. and yet he chose to be here. he only needed you for one reason and that was to stop getting bothered. it was going fine, if only it could be kept up for more weeks. you guys didn’t have to be friends the whole time. you guys didn’t even have to be amicable as long as you acted like it. but you preferred having a more familiar relationship if you were ‘acting’, was it under method acting? suna thinks it’s a bit ridiculous that his thoughts made that conclusion just to rationalize. this. this problem.

he thought for the whole duration of this agreement he’d only have one problem, turns out he has two.

the first one was figuring out a way to get a particularly persistent one off his back, and the other was you.

because he was attracted to you.

“are you listening?” he snaps out of his slight daze at the sound of your voice. semi’s band has been playing for a minute or two, suna doesn’t know the specifics since he was only guessing, but you were here making sure he was paying attention. here you were, wide-eyed and raising a hand to tap his cheek.

atsumu was right, you were cute.

“yeah,” suna answered absentmindedly.

you squinted your eyes at him, “listen more,” you put a hand up to your lips to ‘shush’ and went back to watching semi.

suna listens for once and he admits semi was good. he hasn’t interacted much with the guy but he seemed nice enough, he was never interested in his musical endeavors though. suna’s life revolved mostly around volleyball, after all.

a few more minutes pass before suna couldn’t take it anymore.

he was being tortured by the sight of you, it was that cursed moment he saw you in the lobby. suna was taken aback by the way you presented yourself in a different style than usual, he didn’t really think it would have this kind of effect on him.

fuck it.

suna leaned down to whisper in your ear, “hey, you said i can kiss you, right?”

it takes a second before you turn to him, your features scrunched in curiosity, not in any way judgemental or doubting anything, your immediate assumption was, “is anyone you know watching?”

“no,” suna says, eyes dropping down as he watches you wet your lips, “but can i?”

you contemplate it, and in the middle of doing so your surroundings suddenly turn into silence. suddenly, there was only you and him. like they were described in books or movies, everything else turned into background noise.

your ears were ringing and you were a little dazed as you carefully stood on your tiptoes, your mind battling whether this was really a good idea.

it shouldn’t matter, it meant nothing in the end.

you were still clutched against suna and before you started regretting anything, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his.

it was a solid five seconds, and you stepped back with your stomach turning in knots.

suna’s grip on your shoulder tightens, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

the both of you were silent as you continued to listen to semi’s music.

“i hope that made whoever you were trying to trick go away,” you suddenly say, looking up at him with a smile on your face.

suna was left dumbstruck, he clearly told you there wasn’t anyone he was trying to stray away from here… unless you were doing it on purpose, playing another act on purpose. suna observes your features once more, notices that your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, the blank determined look set in your gaze and deduces that he was spot on.

he splayed a small grin, deciding to play along, “yeah, thanks.”

masterlist — previous | next

❥ fun facts !

kageyama has the healthiest screen time in the fg.

kiyoko has a whole list in her notes app abt reasons why she (personally) would never get pregnant.

suna is the type who needs time to warm up and joke around in texting.

love sick ! a suna rintarou social media au

synopsis. cupid! calling cupid! as the resident matchmaker slash hopeless romantic of tokyo university, you are the person people look for to get love advice or to set them up with the love of their lives. when suna rintarou comes to you asking for the opposite, to help fend people away from trying to get with him, to the extremes of even asking to fake date you, you couldn't refuse! mostly because you did owe him since he was on the receiving end of a bunch of your clients’ unsuccessful love efforts (hey, you do warn them your matchmaking only has a 62.3% success rate).

a/n — i listened to sabik by deny n arthur nery the whole time reading this so i suggest listening to that if you feel like you wanna reread this PLSSS. also END OF ACT 1 YAY! look at how self destructive these two are 💖. also will prolly close the taglist before i start posting act 2 wlxnsnx. omg my head is throbbing.

taglist is CLOSED ! + (1/3) @yas-mjm @agirlwholovesalot @yenqa @fairywriter-oracle @noideawhothatis @alienvarmint @renardiererin @cheezitwh0re @yaboiithewreck @zephestia @nicerthanu @wolffmaiden @2baddies-1porsche @bluegrey02 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @lylovw @fo-love @cloudsvna @haruskatana @apinu @coyloves @rockleeisbaeeee @geombyu @girlkissersco @reveusecherie @mwhahahalasagna @megumiif @erenjvegerrr @thechaosoflonging @rintarousgirl @ris-krispie @kamikokii @complexivelovely @justabreadslice @hearts4faey @yuzurins @eleanorheartschishiya @hearts4itoshi @justsomeonewhoyoudontknow @rijhi @sleepystrwbrryy @snail-squasher @seiamor @wave2love @le000xxgrd @iuspired @theidontknowmehn @linmabbe @rntrsuna @tenaciouswritersheep

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strawberryfairi · 1 year ago

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Apartment 519... | Neighbor! Choso Kamo X Fem Reader

A short sexy thirst💦 (Let me know if y'all want this to be a longer fic/full story)

Part 2

You moan loudly, throwing your head back as your back arches off the plush bed.

Your sweetheart of a neighbor Choso from apartment 519, the one you swore on everything was the most innocent guy you've ever come across, has you hitting your fourth orgasm of the night from just his tongue and fingers.

"Wait...w-wait!" You pant, gripping at his dark black hair, completely down and messy from your little hands running through it, cumming so hard all over his skillful tongue. He let's out a deep breathy moan, continuing to quickly flutter the tip of his tongue over your now overstimulated clit, his fingers continuing to curl deep inside your tight walls.

For a moment you wonder how you even got here in this position. Then you remember your horrific breakup with your cheating boyfriend, finding out in the most embarrassing way. But Choso happened to be there, just off work and heading up to his apartment across from yours, and came to your aid.

His concern was heartwarming, so kind and completely selfless. He'd let you vent and cry, patting your back and giving you encouragement for as long as you needed. You felt so comfortable around him you had no issue inviting him to your place.

The craziest part is that the two of you barely even spoke that much, only a few short conversations about how y'all are doing and telling each other to have a good day. Other than that you never saw a reason to converse any further, seeing as you had a boyfriend at the time. At least you were faithful and considerate.

Yet here you are now, aching for him to finally strip fully naked the way he has you and sink himself inside you as deep as he can.

And he does...

A gasp escapes your lips, eyes squeezed shut and your brows furrowed deeply as your nails dig into his biceps. The feeling of being stretched out to the max has you seeing galaxies. You're so wet, the sounds of your pussy squelching along his length making the two of you feel nearly intoxicated.

"That idiot doesn't deserve you, baby. He can't handle this pussy anyways. So fuckin' creamy..." He coos into your ear, taking your legs and placing them over his shoulders, folding your body in half.

"Chosooo! Oh fuck!" You cry out shakily. The way he talks to you turns you on such a shameful amount. Your ex couldn't even begin to compare. He never would'a spent so much time eating you out and fingering you, not really the type to linger on foreplay. But Choso, he takes his time, basking in your reactions from your shaky legs to the way you unintentionally yank and pull on his hair.

"If you were mine", He says lowly, pulling out just to the tip, "I'd make you feel good like this every night." He finishes, diving back inside you till his hips met your soft skin. All you could do was whimper, feeling his strokes becoming harder, and faster.

"I'm gonna cuuum!" You whine loudly, tears starting to build up around the corners of your eyes.

"Already baby?" He tilts his head to the side, his tone all teasing and slightly playful as he keeps pounding into you.

"Right there! Right there, uuuugh!" You scream, walls fluttering around his glorious length.

"Such a good girl. You're perfect, baby." He purrs, crashing his lips against yours for a sloppy, wet kiss. He pulls away, looking your right in the eyes, his gaze on fire with lust.

"Keep cumming for me like that."

↳A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: Wheeeeew chile it’s hot in here😮‍💨

#choso #choso kamo #jjk x black reader #jjk fanfic #jjk choso #choso jjk #fem reader #black fem reader #black female writer #choso is so damn fine ugh!#choso x reader #choso smut #jjk smut #choso kamo x reader smut #choso kamo smut

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changetheprophecy81 · 9 months ago

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Hot take on Lily's characterization in this fandom

Ik I've written abt this before but I really cannot understand y this fandom insists on limiting lily's characterization to being good and right all the time and making the narrative sympathetic towards her even when she isn't coz ppl don't want haters for her. And this makes sense coming from the new marauders fandom coz they see all of their favs as incapable of being wrong. But I can't understand y the traditional marauders fandom acts this way too coz they tout themselves as being oh so progressive, but they write lily exactly the way rowling wrote her but in a different sense

Rowling wrote all the women in the franchise with the lens of what she sees as an 'ideal woman', but imo lily gets hit by this the most. She exists to further the narratives of other, more important characters, everything we ever hear abt her r positive attributes (harry goes thru tht phase in ootp where he realizes tht his father whom he looked up to so much was a flawed person, for whatever reason his mother is exempted from this), and the highlight of her life was dying for her son(despite the fact tht james did the same and we do know quite a bit abt him).

The conventional view of women has progressed beyond this now, but i d argue tht the underlying issue hasn't been resolved. I get tht fandom is a space for relaxation and fun, but then y do ppl hv a problem with lily being a tad bit flawed in a bad way when the boys r literally out there murdering each other and becoming fascists? The fandom sees her with the modern lens of what an ideal woman is(intentionally or unintentionally)- she's a perfect sjw who starts off with all the right values and has nothing to learn and grow from- she's an ideal feminist, she's always understanding, sympathetic and accepting, she accepts remus instantly, she's the moral voice in the marauders vs snape debate, she always stands up for the underdog, she doesn't let societal prejudices influence her views and waver her morals, etc etc. And while these r undoubtedly very fine qualities to hv, thts not how things work. Ur not being progressive by writing a woman who has no growing and learning to do like a normal person, and who's never allowed to be wrong in a way tht hurts others without making her sympathetic

Let lily be a catty bitch in a way tht can be interpreted as 'cheeky and vivacious' from an outsider's pov. Let lily not hv any proper female friends because she was a popular, well liked girl in high school who wasn't really a girl's girl. Let her be hated by ppl for reasons outside being a muggleborn and being friends with snape. Let her be friendless coz she's just a bad friend, she literally almost smiled when her best friend was being assaulted. Let her be homophobic coz it was the 70s and her social circle consisted of ppl lyk teenage snape and petunia. Let her not be accepting of remus immediately coz the whole ww was prejudiced against werewolves and she's new to it. There r infinite possibilities and none of them need to take away her good aspects in canon, much lyk they don't with the boys

LET HER BE FLAWED AND COMPLICATED AND CONTRAVESIAL COZ WHO CARES, SHE'S NOT FUCKING REAL

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mandos-mind-trick · 2 years ago

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Compromising Positions

Summary: As an aide to Senator Amidala, you have an appearance to uphold in public. Little do they know what goes on behind closed doors.

Pairing: Captain Rex x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, established relationship, massage, oral sex, overstimulation, unprotected sex, Rex is kind of a service dom but not really intentionally, a little bit of a breeding kink if you look closely, Rex is a little bit in love (or he's obsessed the author has no idea what healthy relationships look like), Rex and reader know about Anakin and Padme, this is so unintentionally soft.

A/N: This is shockingly romantic for me. I'm shocked at how sappy this got omg. There's something wrong with me, this was supposed to be just straight filth but it developed feelings 😭.

MASTERLIST

He likes you in this position.

There’s something so beautiful about the way your back arches, held that way by the pillow under your hips. His hands trail along your soft skin, thumbs tracing the line of your spine. You sigh contently under his touch, forehead pressed against your arms. You’re so beautiful like this, pliant and relaxed under his hands. The tension is gone from your shoulders, worked out by his skilled fingers. You’re always so tense, shoulders and back riddled with knots when he finally gets his hands on you.

An unfortunate side effect of your job.

He leans forward, pressing his body into yours. You hum quietly, feeling the bulge in his blacks press against your ass. His lips press gentle kisses along your shoulders, trailing across the back of your neck.

“Rex,” You breathe, hips pressing back against him.

“Hmm?” He presses even closer to you, kissing the side of your head.

“Missed you.” You murmur so sweetly, grinding your hips back against him.

He smiles, kissing his way down the line of your spine. “Missed you too.” He murmurs against your skin. He pulls back once he reaches your ass, sitting up on his knees behind you. “You’ve been busy lately.”

You hum as his hands grip your ass, kneading your flesh. “How can you tell?” Your words are broken by a gasp as he spreads you open, the cool air in the room kissing the wet patch between your thighs.

“The knots in your shoulders.” He muses, his thumbs spreading you open for him. “How wet you are. Has the Senator been working you extra hard?”

“Can’t help it.” You gasp as his thumb traces your slit. “We’re at war.”

“So long as she doesn’t need you tonight.” He leans down, nipping playfully at one of your cheeks.

“I think she’s rather preoccupied herself.” You laugh, shifting in his hold as his thumb brushes your clit.

Rex smirks, slipping an arm around you to flip you over onto your back. The only two people in the galaxy that know their secret, and here you are in a rather compromising position yourselves. Rex leans down, tossing your legs over his shoulders before diving into your pussy, lapping at your slick folds before he focuses on your clit.

He circles his tongue around the small bud in the way he knows you like, the way that has you squeezing your thighs around his head. He wraps his hands around your thighs, holding them open as he works your clit with his tongue. You let out the sweetest noises, every chant of his name sending blood rushing between his own legs. He’s so hard, desperate for any sort of friction but he won’t allow himself that pleasure yet. He wants to cum inside you until you’re dripping, making a mess of your sheets.

He can tell you’re close by the way you’re grinding against his face, knuckles white as they grip the sheets under you. He toys with the idea of letting you cum on his tongue, but it’s been too long since you’ve seen each other. He wants to savor the moment as long as possible.

He pulls away before you can cum, the most desperate sounding whine leaving your lips as your hips try to follow him, chasing the pleasure you were so close to.

“Rex!” You whine, pouting a bit.

He chuckles, leaning forward to tug at your bottom lip with his thumb. “Not yet, cyare.” He drags his hand down your front. “I want to be inside you when you cum.”

Your eyes darken, teeth sinking into that bottom lip. He tugs off the bottom half of his blacks, tossing them somewhere behind him. Your eyes shamelessly take in his form, every scar, every line of muscle, down to the hard cock standing at attention between his thighs.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, legs falling open as you motion for him to come closer. He crawls onto the bed, slotting himself between your thighs as he presses his chest against yours. His arms wrap around you, caging you against him as he kisses you.

You moan softly as you taste yourself on his tongue, hips pressing into his as you search for any sort of friction. He grinds his hips into yours, his cock pressing against your slick folds.

“Please, Rex.” You whine against his lips, fingers digging into his shoulders.

He’d love to keep teasing you, dragging this out until you’re a boneless mess, desperate for him to ease the ache between your thighs, but he’ll take pity on you this time. He lifts himself up just slightly, slipping a hand between your bodies to grip his cock. He drags the head through your folds a couple times, making you mewl beneath him before he’s sinking into you, your body opening for him like you were made for him.

He groans at the tight squeeze of your walls around him as he presses his body back against yours. Your thighs close around him, holding him tight against you. You stare up into those big brown eyes, getting lost in the softness of his stare. His eyes contrast the danger you know he could pose if he wanted to. He’s a well trained fighter, an experienced soldier, and yet he can look at you with such softness, touch you so gently with hands that are capable of complete destruction.

His head dips to your neck, softly kissing the skin, careful not to leave any marks. How he’d love to paint your skin with his teeth and his hands, he knows the risk is too great. So, he resigns himself to simply tasting your skin, leaving gentle kisses in his wake.

Perhaps someday, he can dream.

He knows better than to believe it will ever be a reality.

He slowly begins rocking his hips, holding you tightly against his body. They’ll be shipping out tomorrow, leaving for another battle, another risk, another chance it may be his last. He knows that time could come at any moment. He’s not supposed to think like that. He can’t help it sometimes.

Your hand lifts to his head, gently cupping the back, pressing him closer against your neck. You always know, somehow you can tell when he gets too deep into his own thoughts. “Don’t think.” You whisper, warm breath fanning his ear. “Just feel.” You tighten around him, trying to draw him deeper into you.

His moan is muffled by the skin of your neck, his hips stuttering for a moment. You stroke the back of his head as he rocks into you, slowly picking up his pace. You wrap your legs around his waist, coiled around him like a snake.

He’d be more than willing to be devoured by you if it meant he could spend every moment of every day with you.

You’re close to cumming already, whining and moaning in his ear. The bed creaks as he thrusts into you, the wet sound of your flesh meeting loud in the room, but he doesn’t care. It’s certainly not illegal what you’re doing, though it would raise some questions if anyone saw you two together.

He’ll worry about that later.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you cum, spasming around him. He groans into your ear, hips stilling as he spills inside you, filling you with his cum. Your legs are shaking, whole body trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm. You lay there with him for a few moments, breathing heavily as you hold one another.

Rex gently unravels your bodies, turning you back onto your stomach. He slips the pillow back under your hips, holding your legs apart. He watches his cum start to slide out of you, dripping down your pussy. You make a quiet noise as he runs his cock along your pussy before pressing back into you.

You groan into the sheets as he stretches your already sensitive walls, forcing his cum back deep inside you. His hand smooths over your back, his touch just as gentle as it had been earlier. He’s deep inside you at this angle, cock brushing places you didn’t even think were possible. He’s ruined you forever. Not even your own fingers can make you feel the way he does.

No man will ever compare to him.

His cock brushes that spot inside you with every thrust, forcing pleasure through your body despite the overstimulation. It burns so good, his thrusts dragging your clit along the pillow stuffed under your hips.

"Rex!" You cry his name, back arching as you writhe under him.

His eyes follow the beautiful bend of your spine, hands coming to rest on your hips as he pulls you back against him with every thrust.

You're cumming again, hips jerking in his hands as you whine into the sheets. His head falls back as he fills you a second time, stuffing you full of his cum. You moan at the feeling of being stuffed so full of him, his lips trailing along your back to your shoulder. He slips his arms under you, rolling you gently to the side, his cock still stuffed inside you.

You lay boneless in his arms, feeling more relaxed than you have in a long time. You know tomorrow things will go back to the way they were. Rex will leave to fight the war, and you’ll go back to the Senate and stress about the war and the people dying because of it. You’d stay in this bed forever if you could, in his arms, stuffed full of his cock.

“We should get married.” The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“What?” He laughs, taken aback by your words.

“We should get married. Secretly. I think it would be exciting.”

He hums, pressing his nose against your shoulder, his lips brushing your skin. “Is this your way of telling me you love me?”

You swallow thickly. You haven’t said it to him directly. You always assumed it was implied. He hasn’t said it either, but you can tell. You just know. “Yes.” You finally say, fingers tightening the grip you have on his hand. “I want to get married to you.”

You can feel him smile against your shoulder. “You think you can pull something like this off?”

You shrug. “I know someone I could ask for help.”

“They’ll want to come to the wedding if they find out.” He says, tightening his hold around you.

You shrug. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“We’ll never live it down.” He kisses your shoulder. “But you’re right.”

Your stomach flutters in excitement at his words. You turn your head just enough, pressing your lips to his. “Your next shore leave. Come prepared for a wedding.”

He smiles. “Should I invite the rest of the 501st?”

You slap his arm playfully, settling back into his hold. You’re too excited to sleep, mind already racing with the promise of the future and marrying Rex.

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#star wars #star wars fic #the clone wars #the clone wars fic #captain rex x reader #x reader #clone thirsting

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