#from inside my coffin

[py6oto]

someone please call the doctors !! i have witnessed a third of the hlvrai community perish before my eyes

2023.18.12

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

whatever you do, don't think about how lana saw herself in edgeworth, ok? don't think about how she wanted to distance herself from him the moment they met because he could possibly see through the sl-9 plan and ruin everything, but she couldn't because he was kind, if not a little awkward, to her terrified sister in a case where everyone else's only concern was securing a conviction. don't think about how she brought ema to the prosecutor's office (because she damn well wasn't going to let her sister face this alone) with her hackles raised and her defences bolstered because she'd heard about the "demon prosecutor" and his ways just to realise he's nothing but a young man, trying his best to survive under the weight of his mentor's shadow and ensure justice is served by whatever means he can. don't think about how she felt later, when she was under gant's thumb and knew for a fact that all those rumours surrounding von karma's perfect record were, in fact, true and that he was using edgeworth's faith in him to fulfill his own goals. don't think about how she felt when she had to begin doing the same. or what must have gone through her head when she entered her office one morning to find a case approval form waiting for her on her desk: the state v. miles edgeworth. don't think about how she knew, once she saw the name of the prosecutor assigned to his case, that she was signing his death warrant. don't imagine what she rehearsed saying to his sister or her realisation, after his miraculous survival, why he had been so understanding of her own. don't wonder, as she did, ineffectually, if it was his competence or her fondness for him that led to his car and knife being chosen to cover goodman's murder — a second attempt at his permanent removal — and whether it was affection or guilt that made her stand by the corpse, waiting readily to be caught in his stead. don't think about how she finds out, eventually, that he is gone, in a jail cell so far from remorse, gratitude and closure that she can only sit and turn in her head distorted thoughts about luck and fortuitous third chances. don't.

[coff-in]

Hiii insect anon here again wanting more ftm reader that is another one of the Graves

How would Ashley and Andrew first react to reader coming out? Would they help him get money for his bottom and top surgery? Idk write anything you like I don’t mind I just really like to read your writing huney /p

notes from coff-in: aw!! :') it always surprises me when people say that they like to read my writing... it makes me feel happy :)

i don't believe that andrew or ashley would reject their brother once he comes out. they would be supportive! andrew and ashley both get more protective of them if they come out during their childhood/while still in school. they're willing to throw hands with bitches and bastards who wanna bully their little bro.

if [reader] mentions that they want to get surgery then they'll get (steal) the money for it, however i think ashley would suggest that they do a homemade top surgery. i mean, aren't they all interested in how their little brother tastes like? and andrew could use it as an excuse to feel his brother's chest (not like he needs one, hm?) but if [reader] insists on going to a hospital then they will take [reader] there.

they call [reader] handsome <3 andrew cuts his brother's hair too

----

coff-in

[quietwingsinthesky]

sometimes i think about my spn oc and how i rewrote everything about amara to interact with the story i was trying to tell about her. there were some really neat ideas in that i need to recycle for something one day. like, in the show proper, they just let amara take over a human baby and that’s fine, but amara’s not Meant To Be Here. this entire universe is one constructed in her absence. saying she can possess a human body should be like saying if you took a person and sent them to a universe where 1+1=3, they could just figure out how to function within that.

which in story took the form of Amara being something that could not be Understood, only Rationalized. a force locked outside the narrative who could only get inside and destroy things if given a role within it. by the Winchesters as A Monster To Face. by Chuck as Wayward, Unreachable Sister. and by miss oc as. simultaneously a projected creature to be saved, an amalgamation of injustices done to herself (and others) that would never be righted but could be made up for by being a part of this. and as something impossibly powerful that could be both protection and purpose.

and the Darkness wasn’t any of those things, really, but to have agency in her own story required new shackles, but ones she was always straining against. she wouldn’t fit inside the confines of a human mind, let alone a body, at least not well enough to leave it Intact. like lucifer burning through nick, but Worse. because the burns were an expected outcome of skin not strong enough to hold him. humans were built for angels, some were built better and some worse, but they’re meant to work. putting amara in human skin should disconnect the skin and mind and soul from the reality her brother built itself, i think. slowly. bit by bit.

and at the same time, i’d gone and written the kind of wild scenario you really can only write for your thirteen year old mary sue, given that spn oc the part of herald/high priestess/failed vessel. which she pursued with wild abandon like that would fix anything wrong with her <3

in the end, running alongside the borrowed family theming of the original show was my own theme of “how much self-annihilation will you accept to make your point. are you accepting it, really. or are you seeking it.” not just physically, in letting something unmake the base components of what you are as it tries to fit inside you or in it constricting and suffocating itself beyond self-recognition to get inside in the first place, but, obviously, it’s supernatural, how much selfhood do you cede to your family. is it worth it.

it was interesting, if nothing else. let thirteen year old me cook. she had ideas.

[korrasamibottles]

Wrote something extremely bitchy in my mind describing in great detail exactly how viciously and viscerally I hate christmas (lowercase) and why, but I chose peace today and didn't post it. Just a shitty little gift from me to you.

[soft-serve-soymilk]

Pav playing SDV in 2017: Marries Alex bc he is the closest thing to a normal person in this tiny town

Pav playing SDV in 2024: SEA BASS I’M COMING STRAIGHT FOR YOU

[inlovewithifsvns]

Did I make this blog just so I can post a wallpaper I made for my MC for @infamous-if? Maybe

Phoenix Cadence: he/they

(The large quote is from the Given movie, just adjusted to be related to Phoenix!)

(More stuff in the tags)

[choccy-milky]

AAAAAAA IM SO OBSESSED WITH HOW YOU DREW CLORA HERE AND THE OUTFIT U PUT HER IN OMG MY LITTLE CUTIE PATOOTIE LOOK AT HER AND MILLIE 😭😭THEY R BESTIES FR.....and sally looking as cute as ever too ofc LOVE THIS LOVE THIS girl u always be spoiling me with all ur cute cloras omg 🙇‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️so blessed THANK UUU💖💖💖

doodlez

Clora and Millie because I love them… and it’s my personal headcanon that they are best friends (that’d be radical)… anyways, I was going through Clora withdrawals, so I needed to draw her lmao (@choccy-milky )

Sally is super cute, and I love that she makes little trinkets!! Millie would also love the little trinkets too— I feel like Millie and Sally would get along pretty well (millie is out here collecting ravenclaws lmao) (@siboom777 )

[charmedimsure]

WE'RE OKAY || kang dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x f!reader summary: Things go wrong during the third game word count: 2.1k warnings: mingle game, character death, blood, squid game stuff A/N: this man is the only thing in my head rn. posted this before when tags weren't updating so reposting now. also this is only sorta proofread so if you see any mistakes no you didn't <3 **this is sorta a p2 to "a welcome distraction" but can be read as standalone**

We will go hand in hand

And have fun jumping around

Round and round

The platform stops turning suddenly, and you grab onto Dae-ho to stop yourself from falling over.

"Eleven"

You and Dae-ho lock eyes for a split second before you both start looking around for more players. Together you were six, meaning you needed four more.

Gi-hun turns to a player behind him. "How many are you?"

"Four," the woman replies.

"That makes us ten!" Jung-bae whimpers.

A man from another group comes running over. "Are you five? We need five!"

Before any of you can answer, another player yells back. "We have five people! Come with us!"

The two groups go running off towards a door.

"We have to hurry!" Gi-hun says.

"There's no time, Gi-hun!" Young-il tells him.

"We need one more!" the tall woman yells. She spots someone by herself near the center of the platform and grabs her. "We have eleven now!"

"To the green door over there! Hurry!" Young-il yells, already running off in the direction of the door.

Before you know what's happening, Dae-ho grabs you and pulls you along after him. You rush after him into the room, pushing yourself against the wall to make room for everyone else to get inside. You look up at the man next to you before turning your head towards the beeping sound coming from the back of the room. The clock runs out, and the lock clicks on the door.

You breathe out a sigh of relief that you made it in time, but jump and yelp when you hear the screams coming from outside the door, along with the gunshots. Looking towards the door, you watch Gi-hun's reactions as he watches the people outside. The sounds of gunshots are soon replaced with the sounds of the forklifts coming in with the coffins.

Your heart begins to race. If Dae-ho had not taken you back to his friends and added you to his team, you surely would be one of those bodies out there. You look up at Dae-ho to see him already looking down at you. He saved your life.

Dae-ho looks you over to make sure you're okay before you both look around at the others in the room with you. You smile a bit when you see the nice lady and her son with you, as well as players 120 and 095. You had watched them during the six-legged race and watching them cross the finish line had filled you with hope that you could do it too.

"You're alive thanks to me!" a voice yells from inside your room, making you and everyone else jump. You turn and see the creepy lady standing in the middle of the green room, looking you all over one by one. She speaks to Gi-hun, making everyone look at each other with a mix of fear and confusion. This lady doesn't seem to understand that it is not the time for this.

The eliminated players are announced and you are let out of the rooms. The floors are already covered in blood. Red is splattered all over the walls as a morbid reminder of what will happen to you if you lose.

Everyone steps onto the platform and it starts moving again as the music starts up. Looking around, you see that weird purple-haired guy and his friend dancing together. You don't know whether to smile that people can find happiness even in a moment like this, or to be horrified that they can dance in the blood of all those people.

The platform stops again and you are shot back into the game.

"Four"

Your team looks around at each other. Just as you're about to volunteer to find others, Young-il and Jung-bae separate, shouting about needing two more people.

The rest of you run towards an open room with a purple door, taking deep breaths. Gi-hun keeps the door open and looks outside to make sure that the others found another room in time. Right before time runs out, Dae-ho pulls Gi-hun into the room and closes the door, hearing the lock turn immediately after.

The room is tense with none of you knowing whether your friends made it in time. You look at Dae-ho, seeing the worry on his face, and gently take his hand. He looks towards you and squeezes your hand, not letting go even when the doors unlock and you are let out.

Dae-ho starts yelling for Young-il and Jung-bae before a voice calling Gi-hun's name grabs your attention. You look over with relief to see that both of them are alive.

Young-il turns to Jun-hee, asking her if she is alright.

"Wait a minute," Young-il says, "if the next number is seven, we won't need anyone else, will we?"

You all smile as you understand what he's saying, and Jun-hee holds her swelling stomach, a warm smile on her face.

The number for the next round is three, making it easy for your team to split up into two groups and get into rooms with time to spare. You nearly cry as the mother and son are reunited after the round ends, and Dae-ho pulls you towards him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

Your team grows after that, quietly adding the old lady and her son and players 120 and 095.

The platform starts to spin again as the next round starts.

"I hate this fucking song," you mumble under your breath.

The platform stops as the voice announces the next group size.

"Seven"

"Two men and five women! Go!" Gi-hun yells to the team.

"Which two men?" Jung-bae asks.

"I'm going with my mom!" Yong-sik says, holding onto his mother tightly.

Dae-ho holds up your joined hands. "I'm coming." You're dragged in the direction of the group as you run along. Dae-ho opens an orange door, but stops seeing that it's full.

The old man from before pushes Dae-ho out of the doorway before shutting the door. You keep Dae-ho from falling and instead pull him in the direction of an open room that player 120 found. As you run, you can hear the voice counting down. You make it with just a few seconds to spare.

You sigh in relief, but freeze once you turn around. Instead of two men and five women, the room contains two men and four women. Player 120 is standing near the door, ready to run outside when a man pushes her into the room and closes the door just in time for them to lock.

The crying eyes of player 095 look through the slot in the door.

"Young-mi!" Player 120 screams, running towards the door and desperately trying to open it.

The girl outside continues crying until a gunshot is heard and she slides down the door.

Player 120 screams as the woman cries with her son over their lost friend. Dae-ho pulls you close to him as player 120 starts screaming at the man who came in. As sad as his is to see the girl die, he's relieved that it wasn't you out there looking at him through the slot.

The doors unlock and you walk out silently. The others smile when they find you, but immediately notice the missing girl and frown. Without a word, you all step up onto the platform once more as the voice announces that this will be the last round and the music starts up again.

"What do you think it'll be this time?" Jung-bae asks Gi-hun.

"Two," Young-il answers, getting our attention.

"Why?"

"There are 126 people left, and there are 50 rooms. So there won't be enough rooms for everyone, only 100."

You and Dae-ho look at each other. He tightens his grip on your hand, silently telling you that he will bring be with you. You nod at him and get ready to run.

"Two"

Everyone immediately starts running towards the doors in a mad sprint. You stay with Dae-ho, keeping your hands together so you don't get separated.

Dae-ho opens a red door, but you're pushed aside before you can get in with him. You look up as another man pushes inside the room and closes him and Dae-ho in.

Fear like you've never known before takes over your body. You're about to die. Dae-ho can be heard inside the room, screaming your name and trying to open the door, but the man keeps him from getting out. The voice starts to count down from ten. As you accept you're fate, a pair of hands grab you and drag you into a yellow room, throwing you in before throwing the lone person inside out and closing the door.

You gasp for air as you pull yourself off the floor, staying on your hands and knees as you try to get a grasp of what just happened. Someone had saved your life.

Turning to see who your savior is, your eyes grow wide when you read the '246' on his chest.

He kneels beside you, putting a hand on your shoulder. "Are you alright?"

You nod frantically. "Thanks to you."

The gunshots begin outside and you throw your arms around the man in front of you. You'd be one of them if it weren't for him.

"Thank you," you cry into his shoulder as he hugs you back.

"There was enough time. I watched you get pushed and I just had to do something," he says.

You want to say thank him a million times, but words won't come out as you just stay in each others arms.

Two rooms over, Dae-ho's knuckles are stained red with blood as he punches the door over and over. There's no way that you made it in time, he knows that. He turns and screams at the other player in his room for pushing you, attempting to hit him before his cries take over and he falls into the corner of the room, sobbing into his sleeve.

The doors are eventually unlocked and everyone makes their way out. Dae-ho walks out slowly, looking at the floor and feeling empty. He couldn't save you.

The others run over to him, but they all frown and let out a few gasps when they see that the other person coming out of his room isn't you.

Dae-ho finally looks up at his team, though they all look blurry from the tears in his eyes. He must look like a wreck, but he can't even bring himself to care about that.

Jung-bae walks up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder, and Dae-ho breaks down again, sobbing into the shoulder of his fellow ex-marine. The area around them is silent except for Dae-ho's cries. That is until door opens behind them and a small gasp is heard in front of him. Dae-ho looks up at the woman holding her son and sees her looking past him.

"Dae-ho."

Dae-ho freezes when he hears the voice. He slowly turns around, not wanting to get his hopes up and believe that it's you. But there you, alive and standing in front of him. You look at each other for a few seconds before Dae-ho rushes towards you, throwing his arms around you as you do the same.

The man breaks down again as he hugs you. "I thought you were dead. I'm so sorry."

You rub his back as he cries, quietly telling him that it's okay.

He pulls back and cups your face with his hands, making sure to look you over. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, Dae-ho, it wasn't your fault," you reassure him. "And I'm okay. Everything is alright."

He nods, though tears continue to fall down his cheeks. "How did you find a room?"

You smile and look behind you at the man walking towards your group. "This man here picked me up off the floor and saved me at the last moment."

Player 246 just smiles. Dae-ho pulls you back into a hug as he thanks the man over and over for saving your life.

The other players start filtering out of the room. You break away from Dae-ho and pull him along with you towards the door.

As you're walking, he throws an arm around you and pulls you against him, placing a desperate kiss on your forehead that makes you blush. "I can't believe you're alive," he whispers against your skin.

You smile at him and take his hand, squeezing it. "You said it yourself, we're going to get out of here. Together."

Dae-ho keeps you close to him as you walk, the others from your team patting you on the shoulder as they tell you they're happy you made it. Dae-ho keeps his eyes on you the whole time, determined to get the both of you out of here. Today.

~

Dae-ho tags: @gudfornuthin

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Glass Coffin

Weirder shit has happened in DC universe, but hear me out, Young Justice finds a glass coffin with Danny sleeping inside it. Maybe it's in some ancient tomb and hidden away for centuries, maybe it's in some villain's private collection of artifacts, maybe it's in some museum in plain sight.

And then Kon hears a heartbeat from it.

(I'm going with the version of YJ that is Kon, Tim, Cassie, and Bart here, fyi)

Assuming they didn't come to wherever they found the coffin just for the sake of it, they, as the responsible teenagers they are, finish their business first and take it to Mount Justice later to figure out what the fuck. Meanwhile, Danny is sleeping peacefully like a princess, all up in his King garb, with the Crown of stars, cape of night sky, and whatever else pretty stuff you want him to have. Point is, he looks majestic.

Tim looks up the records for the coffin. The files say it's hundreds of years old, and no one has been able to open it yet. The boy inside is stated to be either a statue or some kind of really well-preserved corpse - no amount of scanning registered any signs of life, so it was treated like a piece of art for the most part.

Yet, Con is absolutely positive he heard a heartbeat inside. What's more, he can still hear it now. It's impossibly slow but still recognizable.

Cassie finds a whole lot of legends about it, most of them speaking of 'only those from the other side can open the casket', and there are no clarifications to what kind of other side they are all talking about.

Of course, they all try. Because this is some kind of Snow White or Sleeping Beauty shit, and besides, none of them even think they would be able to open it anyway. And, sure, as soon as they are done having fun with it, they will report to the JL about their finding. Maybe the magic users will know something about the weird Sleeping Prince. They even go as far as to reason with the casket, loudly proclaiming where they are from, because they all come from very different 'sides'.

Bart goes first, explaining how he is from the future. The casket doesn't budge. Cassie goes next, stating herself as Themyskirian, but to no avail. Kon is next, with his half-Kryptonian heritage, but the glass coffin doesn't accept him as worthy either.

And then it's Tim's turn. And somehow, he flips the glass lid open with no effort at all.

A moment of silence follows, all the YJ members frozen in place, waiting for anything to happen, but the boy inside keeps just laying there, unmoving and with his eyes closed. Then Cassie makes a joke about kissing the princess to wake her up, and all of them start arguing on ethics and stuff because why is Robin the one that has to do the kissing, do you have any idea where that boy has been? Fuck off, you kiss him if you want it, and also, do you really want him to wake up, what if he is some kind of villain or an evil spirit, or-

"Which one of you assholes is dead enough to wake me up from my nap?"

And that's as far as I got with this idea. Maybe Danny was put into some magic sleep, maybe it was Clockwork's time shenanigans, maybe someone locked him inside and he decided to sleep it off, maybe he is there on his own volition, taking a vacation from Kingly duties.

I'm just having this vision of eternally beautiful Danny in a glass (oh, maybe it's not glass, maybe it's ice) coffin, and the YJ arguing over it. There's also Dead Tired potential here, because I love them, yes.

[esoomris]

purchased Dredge (eldritch fishing game like from that tumblr post) and it is revealing some things about how I would die in a horror movie

like some weirdo on an island grants me a spell of Boat Go Fast and i’m like “nah you can’t trick ME into dabbling in the occult”

and then I find a jet-black stone that emits red smoke and wants me to arrange fish on it in a very particular way and i’m like “fish puzzle yayyyyyy!!”

[ascendingconures]

Yes!!!!!

spooky reminder that i made a VR map of the Magnus Institute you can go explore on vrchat. Its interactable. Its unhinged. its buggy. its full off references. dont take it too seriously.

[alicenpai]

the girl from the other side ✨ this series gave me hope a million times but simultaneously shattered my heart into the same amount of pieces </3 (flower symbolism under cut)

sticker sheet for anime north 🍀🥧🖤🤍

SPOILERS AHEAD

forget me not - obvious reference to the Black Children and how they eventually forget who they are as they near the end of their "life cycle".

white clover (in coffin) - white clovers typically symbolize innocence.

4 leaf clover - like I wrote in a previous post on my Witch Hat Atelier seasons piece, the 4 leaf clover symbolizes luck and good fortune. Like Coco, Shiva to her loved ones is a symbol of fortune, though to the Inside Kingdom, a symbol of misfortune.

sunflower - typically symbolize strength and warmth, a fitting flower for Shiva, the light illuminating Teacher's dark past.

nasturtium - another flower symbolizing strength, and has strong ties to the "victory" after battle. apparently soldiers used to don them as a sign of a long battle won. fun fact they are also edible (don't take my post for nutritional advice please) (ill probably write a bit more on this topic when my head is more clear)

[girl-lostconnection]

Acceleration AU (part 3) 4.5k

Part 2 || Part 4

Warnings: Plus size!fem!Reader, Soap x Simon, Simon x Reader, Reader x Soap, Reader is mad as fuck, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy attachment, possessive behaviour, suggestive themes, insecurities, Reader slutshames herself a little, touchy Simon

You don’t know what the fuck are you doing out in this bloody pub, nursing your fruity cocktail and trying to pull your skirt lower.

It’s dim-lighted here, entirely too warm and crowded for your comfort. But the stubborn pride, the aching pit in your stomach don’t let you get up and leave like you usually would.

No, you aren’t leaving until you get what you came for.

Simon’s words are still ringing in your ears, Simon’s voice digs a hole inside of you the size of a fucking coffin. You feel like lying down in this hole and burying yourself down there.

But it’s not fair. It isn’t fucking fair and you refuse to wallow in your own misery just because you are getting your heart broken. Just because the man you spent your whole life with found himself a relationship.

(Doesn’t matter if you weren’t exactly in a relationship with him. Doesn’t matter that you never talked who you are to each other. Doesn’t fucking matter)

There is a scratch on the inside of your skull and the scratch suspiciously feels the same way worried eyes of Johnny “Soap” MacTavish feel when you almost throw a bloody mug of tea in Simon’s face.

When you got so mad you felt like screaming and raging, like moving away and changing your name and never saying another bloody thing in your entire life. Joining a covenant maybe.

[ “You could’ve said that you want me here for Christmas.”, - Simon is one heavy silence in a trenchcoat, arms crossed over the chest, lips thin line of a frown.

You know he hates this conversation. You know he hates fighting.

You need to do it anyway.

“You could’ve asked. You know it’s important. You know what it means and how much it matters.”, you are upset beyond anything, Soap’s tense shoulders just adding to the heat of the moment.

Because it’s not his bloody fault, because Simon is a grown man who should’ve known better than to throw a bone your way.

Not when he knows you snarl at things like that.

“I’m a grown man, luv. I don’t need your bloody permission to go somewhere, you are not my mum”, Simon snaps, eyes heavy. You know he’s becoming defensive now, that Soap looking uncomfortable as hell just agitates him further. That you being this upset drives him up the wall.

“Thank fuck”, you spit out and leave, ignoring his heavy steps right behind you, ignoring the way he tries to stop you, ignoring the “luv, please, it’s getting dark already”.

Because Simon cares, of course he fucking cares, you know that and you know him.

But the ugly roaring in your head chants “hate you-hate you-hate you” and you slam the door on your way out.

Doesn’t make you feel any better.]

There is a hole inside of you the size of a coffin and you intend to fill it today.

Because you are not a bloody placeholder. You deserve love. You deserve attention.

You deserve consideration and care.

But you’ve also been so lonely and god knows you want to feel wanted. Even if just for tonight. Even if it’s a little bit and not exactly what you crave.

Can’t get everything you want, right?

So you let the stranger kiss you, his smile grazing your skin, his hands on the small of your back and he’s very bloody respectful all things considered.

And in any other circumstances you would appreciate it.

But you are not looking for a date. You are looking for…what are you even looking for? Absolution? An answer? Warm body next to yours?

You don’t know so you just press yourself tighter into the man, soft sound escaping your throat when he murmurs something — your head swimming from heat and taste of sugar on his lips. It’s intoxicating.

It numbs the ache in your chest, it warms up the ugly slick parts of you that throb for entirely different hands and eyes.

Stranger’s name is nice but simple, something along the lines of Gary or maybe Harry (you didn’t listen and now are forced to just call him “hon”), his eyes are impossibly green, his smiles wide enough to remind you Soap.

You don’t know why he reminds you Soap. Because John MacTavish is broader, shoulders wider and arms meatier — honed bulk of muscles stretching his fatigues taut.

John MacTavish has tiniest freckles in the world, has small white strip of scar crossing his right eyebrow and has absolutely sinful lips.

You get why Simon is mad about him.

You take a breath, sound a little shakier than intended, but your newfound date takes it as the compliment, rumbling in your collarbones that you are “so gorgeous. Prettiest bird I saw”.

You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling the man closer, hands wrapping around his shoulders, your back pressed into the wall behind you.

Why do you even think of Soap in this situation?

The guy presses kisses to your neck, nips at the soft skin, groans “right beauty, doll, can’t get enough of ya” and you decide that if you can’t think of anything other than bloody Soap, you aren’t gonna think at all.

You are gonna let the bloke, whose bloody name you can’t remember for the life of you, touch you more, you are gonna lead his palm between your thighs, you are gonna let him rub the wet heat of you.

Hungry gnawing creature in you getting greedier with each touch, gripping on stranger’s wrist, throwing her head back, doing things she shouldn’t.

But you’ve been doing everything you should all this time and it had been getting you absolutely nowhere.

So you let the guy get you off, his teeth grazing your throat, his fingers sending shivers down your spine, your core molten hot and in the moment you feel so good.

You feel on top of the world, smiling like that’s how it’s supposed to be.

Smiling like you know how pretty you are.

The guy (god, now you will remember him as “The guy” only, there’s no way you are gonna remember his name. No matter how good his fingers are) kisses your neck and jaw, murmurs sweet nothings.

And for a few blissful moments you are high on pleasure, pliant from his warmth and soft in your satisfaction.

For a few moments you feel whole.

Then it all comes crashing down.

Because the high never lasts long enough, because there’s not a bloke in this pub that can sate the creature in your chest.

You feel so sick you want to crawl out of your own skin, you want to run, you want to hide and scratch your make up off and scratch this fucking dress off.

The guy (god bless the bloke) carefully tucks you in a cab, kisses your forehead and murmurs “don’t need to cry, doll, it’s okay. Call me tomorrow if you’d like, yeah? I’d love to take ya out” and leaves his number in the pocket of your coat.

He pays for your cab and doesn’t try to leave with you.

For some reason his kindness makes you feel even worse.

Because it’s not fair. Not to him, nor to you. Because you were out to be stupid and to have fun and to get yourself off. And you did it, crossed out all bulletpoints off your bucket list.

Why doesn’t it get much better?

You get home at the wee hours of the morning, floorboards creaking under your weight as you kick your heels off and then the light switch clicks on.

You freeze like a deer in the headlights, looking at Simon who looks less than impressed.

Simon in sweatpants and a sweater you were wearing this morning.

Simon with heavy tension in his shoulders that you know will ache like hell in the morning, tension pain climbing up to his neck.

But he used up all your patience and you are not in the mood for reprimand, you are a grown woman, you can deal with your own shit.

You can do it without him.

Simon’s eyes linger on your neck, muscle in his jaw twitching. He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you, something swelling in his eyes with the force of incoming tsunami. Tectonic plates shifting, oceans boiling, something big roaring to the surface.

But fuck him. Fuck him and his moods and his blond lashes and his pretty fucking boyfriend.

Fuck them both.

“Don’t.”, you spit out with such rage it surprises both of you, hiss so wounded it’s a miracle you aren’t crying.

It makes Simon snap out of whatever he’s been conjuring in his head, mouth opening again but this time his lips twist into a frown.

“Luv, wha’- did someone hurt ya?”, there is a shift in his demeanour, his whole body tilting closer to you. There is a familiar twitch to his fingers, a heavy tension rolling under his skin, squaring his shoulders — his whole body curling to wrap around you. “Luv, look at me. Come o’, sweet’eart.”

But no. No, you can’t do this today. Not right now.

Too much kindness and you will crack open like faulty glass with cracks all over it, everything pouring out of you.

“I said — don’t”, you snap, hanging your coat, your eyes stinging, the heavy hover of your brows (same one you subconsciously mimicked off Simon’s).

Simon opens his mouth to say something but you send him a glare so scalding he does a rare thing.

He closes it back and steps aside, letting you through. He doesn’t say anything anymore but there is a heavy weight of his gaze between your shoulder blades. It follows you when you pad into the bedroom to get your pyjamas and then into the bathroom.

Bathtub fills with hot water slowly but it gives you time to think. Shame finally flooding your system, your mind catching up to pleasures your body partook in and Jesus fucking Christ, what were you thinking?

Letting a stranger just touch you like that? Letting someone who’s not Simon be this close to you, this intimate with you, this soft with you.

Letting someone see you as this vulnerable wreck of a social butterfly — spreading your wings one moment and sobbing the next one. Fucking hell, the Guy must be thinking you a right nutcase right now.

There is embarrassment and strange kind of guilt curdling in your throat, your fingers twitching to finally wash the night away, to slide under the water surface and lie in the bathtub until you feel like a person again. Until you don’t feel this ashamed about something not shameful at all.

A quick glance in the mirror does absolutely nothing to soothe the restless creature in your chest because holy fuck. That’s why Simon was staring.

You look like a bloody mess!

Your neck is littered with hickeys all the way down to your cleavage, purplish marks covering your skin. It does look like someone tried to either devour you or kill you. Maybe both.

Fucking hell. Fucking fucking hell.

You wash for what feels like forever, angrily scratching off the make up, too rough and too quick, your eyes stinging, your skin too tight and too hot, your chest gurgling with wet shuddering breaths.

You don’t feel better. If anything you feel worse.

There’s a small dread-filled expectation that Simon is standing his guard right outside the bathroom door, that you will need to speak to him in a sorry state you are in.

But he isn’t there.

Soap is.

Not even right behind the door — he is in the living room, right across from you, his head snapping up when you finally emerge.

He’s wearing Simon’s T-shirt and you don’t want to let it get to you but it’s been a long night and fuck, do you feel like crying right now.

But it’s a different thing that gets you.

Johnny is standing with a handful of blankets, right next to couch that has been properly made to sleep on it, pillows and stuffed toy laying on there.

There’s a steaming mug on the coffee table. There’s a chocolate bar and a plate of pills. If you had to guess, probably painkillers.

It makes your chest clench and if this bloody Scotsman says a single fucking thing you will throw something in his head.

You don’t need his pity. You don’t want his kindness.

But Johnny just steps aside letting you plop yourself on the couch and drapes a blanket over your shoulders. Johnny passes you the mug and sits next to you.

For some reason you let him.

For some reason you press your cheek into his shoulder and cry — ugly fat tears streaming down your face, his hand coming up to slowly carefully rub your hand. It’s strange.

It’s not like Simon’s engulfing embrace, it’s not the way guy from the pub hummed his sweet nothings. But it’s good. It’s comforting. It doesn’t make you feel like a total wreck.

Johnny sits with you, letting you cry it out, not making a sound. Like he knows that you need this moment for yourself. Like he knows that this is not about him. This is about you.

You sit like that long enough for your eyelids to start dropping lower involuntarily, your body getting heavier — tired from shame and aching, wrung with the events of the day.

That’s when Soap finally starts talking, calloused fingers rubbing small circles on your forearm.

“I’m sorry.”, he murmurs quietly before finally looking at you, face a little softer, eyes a little warmer. Like he gets it finally. “I didnae ken you had plans with Simon. For Christmas. I wouldnae asked him if he said something”

You give him a silent shrug of your shoulders which feels more of a twitch rather than conscious expression of your “it is what it is”.

You close your eyes, tucking your legs under the covers and letting Soap wrap you in a blankets.

His eyes linger on your neck for a moment before he looks at you again.

“Was everything…consensual?”, there is a worried heavy crease between his brows and it’s not funny but you still smile at him earning yourself an eye roll.

“Don’t laugh at me, lassie, I’m serious. Simon is driving himself up the foockin wall.”, he shakes his head and fond exasperation in his face makes something in your chest clench painfully. God it would have been better if he was mean to you.

“I’m out here because I reckoned you woulnae mind some company.”, he murmurs, cocooning you in your blanket like you are some kind of helpless creature and you have to smack his palm away to stop him from wrapping you any tighter.

“ ‘m fine. I’ll talk to Simon tomorrow”, you breath out, curling around the stuffed toy, too tired to smack Soap’s hand away when he strokes your head, warmth of his palm soothing dull throbbing pain under your skin.

This is nice. You shouldn’t get used to it.

“I’m sorry too”, you finally say, words slurring out, your eyelids getting heavier when you look up at Johnny and you aren’t sure what it is there in his face but he looks at you like he gets it. Like it’s okay to be a wreck. “I…yeah, it was consensual. Just- I’m not like that usually”, you don’t know why you try to justify yourself to him. You owe him no explanation.

But his eyes still soften when he hums, nodding, his thumb carefully massaging your temple.

“Ah ken. It’s okay. Sometimes we do things for ourselves. Sometimes it doesn’t work out. Ahm just glad ye’r safe”, he chews on his lip before adding, laughter glimmering in his eyes. “And responsible. Even got yerself home in one piece. Ah was right bloody mess in similar circumstances, completely off my foockin’ trolley”

The notion does in fact make you feel a little less like shit and you chuckle, closing your eyes, slipping into dark welcoming nothing.

“Can’t imagine someone not wanting you. You are a beauty”, is the last thing that stumbles out of your mouth, before slumber swallows you.

Soap sits there for some time, palm still covering the side of your hand, eyes soft when you nuzzle into the pillow. You are the one to say that, hen.

He uncurls himself off the couch, finally pads back in the bedroom and crawls in bed — Simon’s hands coming up to pull him close immediately.

“Yer a bastard”, Soap murmurs, nose nuzzling in Ghost’s neck, eyes closing as he melts into warm embrace.

He doesn’t like the clench in his chest, he doesn’t like feeling out of place, he doesn’t like taking someone else’s place.

He doesn’t like making someone feel the way he was feeling. Not when he knows the desire to fill the emptiness inside with whatever works best.

“I know”, Simon’s voice is a low rumble, hands wrapping tighter around Soap’s body, keeping him closer. “Feelin’ like one too, sergeant”

“Good”, Soap hums and curls into Simon further. The bed under him smelling like you, the bed bearing your every trace, the bed a live reminder that somewhere along the way things got more complicated that they should have.

It’s only in the morning that Simon crawls out of the bed, hands wrapping Johnny tighter in the blanket — it’s cold in winter and the last thing he needs is for his sergeant to catch cold. He will probably need to crank up the heat higher, it’s freezing outside the warmth of covers.

It’s still early enough for all of you to sleep but you are very much awake when Simon pads out, awkwardly stilling in the doorway when his eyes meet yours. Look who’s now looking like a deer in the headlights.

“Mornin’.”, he rasps out, voice rough after sleep, hair a mess that curls at the ends. Like he has been tossing and turning all night.

You two haven’t talked save for the yesterday’s fight which had less than ideal results.

God, he hates fighting with you. Hates the tension, hates feeling out of place, hates not being able to melt into you like usually.

“Can I?”, he nods to the couch you are still plastered over and moves your legs out of the way when you give him a slow nod, your blanket-covered ankles now in his lap.

Sitting like that, on the edge of a bloody couch Simon looks like a sleep paralysis demon (a really attractive one, but you are sure you are biased).

The same way he’d sit on the edge of your bed after dumb teenage fights, after breaking your mug, after announcing he has enlisted — his palms massaging your feet absentmindedly.

Just to feel that you are still here.

Tangible, warm, real. His.

“How’d ya feel?”, there is no more fight in him, no more tomb-plate pressure on your shoulders to cave in and speak to him. No more restless energy — all of it drained out yesterday, was bitten out on his nails, splintering one in the process.

When you cut him off, sounding like you weren’t just mad at him. Like you were in pain. Like you were hurting.

Like he hurt you.

“It wasn’t fair”, he says, brown eyes meeting yours, thumb rubbing the roundness of your malleolus.

Simon doesn’t know how to just say that he’s sorry. That he shouldn’t have snapped like that. That he was wrong and he hurt you and he felt like absolute failure yesterday when you stumbled home.

Pretty as sin, glitter on your cheeks, somebody’s marks all over your neck.

Simon doesn’t know how to say that he almost lost it then and there, that he has never felt this mad, that he wanted to get out of the house and hunt down whoever dared to leave hickeys on you.

His fault, should have never let you out of sight, should have never let you leave upset, should have called and told you everything proper, should have been better. His fault, his fuck-up, his mistake.

And then you were misty-eyed and upset beyond anything he ever saw and his heart sank in his stomach, squeezing out white hot “minemineminemine”.

Because he won’t just hunt down if whoever kissed you all over took advantage of you. He’d kill them. He’d tear them limb from limb, he’d choke the life out of them.

Simon doesn’t know how to admit how scared he was that he pushed you away and you might have needed him and he wasn’t there.

Simon doesn’t know how to describe the sheer relief he felt, straining his ears to eavesdrop on your conversation with Johnny.

Simon doesn’t know how to say that he was wrong.

So he says the closest thing he can muster.

“You were right. To be upset with me”, he murmurs quietly, fingers curling around your ankles, palms warming you up. “I should’a waned you proper way. Should’a asked instead if Soap can come to celebrate with us”, he sighs, tilting his head from side to side — bones cracking and granting temporary relief from throbbing in his nape.

You sigh as well, the feel of his fingers on your legs so familiar it’s almost painful. The touch so tender you feel like snatching your legs back.

But god knows you are a weak weak woman.

You don’t. You let him touch you more, bolt of molten heat shooting up the underside of your knee when his knuckle presses on the centre of the sole of your foot.

“John is pretty”, you say suddenly, blurting it out to fill the silence. Because you know that Simon isn’t good with saying he’s sorry. And as much as you appreciate this sad attempt at apology, after everything that happened you aren’t entirely sure whether he’s sorry or just feeling guilty.

“He is very pretty.”, Simon nods stone-faced, softly squeezing your legs one last time before he moves you aside to work his way beside you. “You are very pretty too. Both of you are bloody beauties.”, he hums and you feel his faint grin pressing into your shoulder when he kisses it. “ ‘m surrounded by real dolls ‘round here.”

“You’re laughing at me”, you roll your eyes, smacking his hand when he repositions you to tuck under his side. Closer. So he can drape an arm over your stomach, pressing your back in his chest. “And don’t weasel your way on my couch, you big brute.”

“I’m laughing with ya, sweet’eart”, Simon murmurs finally stretching out behind you, grunting in satisfaction when your body slots into his like a well-oiled piece of puzzle. “Never at ya.”

Simon is a heavy warm presence, scarred fingers on your skin, callouses scraping ever so slightly.

Simon is a four-finger grip, stump of absent trigger finger a living reminder that he always comes back. No matter the cost.

He hums something in your hair, rocking you both in his embrace, his cheek pressed to the top of your head. Simon is warmth and safety, heavy silences and heavier gazes. Simon is everything.

And right now this big everything is purposefully lulling you back to sleep, realisation dawning on you only when he hums again — low vibration in his chest melting you into nothing.

“ ‘m not sleepy”, is a weak protest at best because he can feel with his whole body the way you melt when he tuts and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Yes, you are, luv”, it’s not even a question, his hands wrapped around you securely, holding close to his chest. Close to him.

Sometimes Simon thinks that it would be nice to have six hands. Or at least four. Would’ve be enough to hold this tightly both you and Soap and never let go.

But he only has two hands and two of you and a challenge of getting you both safe and warm.

Soap pads out of the bedroom half an hour later, nothing on him but Simon’s T-shirt and boxers, one of your blankets draped over his shoulders when he sits down across from the couch.

Johnny has a calculating, sharp look in his eyes, has the heavy appraisal in his gaze, his voice low enough not to wake you up.

“What am I to you, sir?”, is a weird question maybe, considering he sleeps in Simon’s bed and wears Simon’s clothes and gets Simon’s kisses. But so do you. And he saw you yesterday when Simon decided he’s going to add someone to the equation you didn’t know you were even part of.

“Mine.”, Simon is calm, with you tucked under his side and his hand draped over you to keep you there and you close. There’s a heavy weight to his words, a heat that sends a shiver through Soap’s body because baby, it’s cold outside and god, does he want in.

Does he want to be needed and loved and cared for. Does he want the same attention you are getting, does he want the same focus you inwoke in Simon.

“Then what is she to you, L.T.?”, the question is carefully worded because Johnny needs to know for sure. Because he needs to know whether to pack his bags or stay by the door.

“Also mine.”, Simon hums, pad of his thumb grazing someone’s bite on your neck. His eyes are so dark Johnny feels heat climb up his face. Like he’s witnessing something he isn’t supposed to. “You both are mine. Not gonna change”

So it’s a final decision.

Johnny wonders how long ago lieutenant decided it. How long ago he saw Soap and decided to bring him home to the only other person he’s still considering family.

How long ago he looked at his bird and decided to introduce her to the only other person that makes him feel alive. That makes him feel warm. That makes him feel home.

Soap hums and crouches down in front of the couch, testing the waters but Ghost lets him, moving a little bit to uncurl himself from covering you. Letting Johnny get close. Trusting Johnny not to wake you up. Trusting Johnny with you.

Ghost is letting Johnny in.

Soap stays silent for a few very long moment, before nodding more to himself that to anyone else and presses a kiss to Simon’s lips. He nips hard enough to draw blood, licking it off before he stands up.

“Ahm gonna put the kettle on”, he rolls his shoulders and softly swipes away the remains of glitter you didn’t wash off yesterday from your cheek. Pretty girl, you have no idea what a man is lying beside you.

You have no idea that he’s never letting go.

You have no idea there are two of them now.

Ghost hums, satisfaction rolling off him in waves, satisfaction etched in him, satisfaction dripping out of every line of his face.

Maybe he won’t need four hands. Maybe Johnny can lend him his.

Maybe with time you will lend yours as well.

Taglist: @thestoriesiread @skeletonsucker @sirbonesly @blackhawkfanatic @rpgsandstuff @danielle143 @parasite--girl @un-aesthetic @vmaxis

[anonymousicecream]

Yes Daddy (Ningning x M Reader)

Day 15: Daddy Kink

"Ning Yizhuo, to my office please." You called your assistant, who is currently having a chat with her college friends who also happens to be your employees. It took a few minutes before Yizhuo entered the office, walking in front of your table and standing there.

"How may I help you sir?" Yizhuo asked.

You reached for your wallet on the table and opened it, grabbing your silver credit card and gave it to her. "I have a dinner gala with Mr Lee tonight. I want you to come with me. Go buy a dress, Watkins will drive you to a shop of your choice."

"Alright sir,' she replied before she starts going around the table, heading towards you, 'anything else I need to do?" She sits on your lap as she asks the question, spreading her hips open. "You know what to do." Yizhuo smirked as she leaned in to kiss you.

You replied the kiss, exclusively using your lips before she tilts her head and poke her tongue out, meeting your lips. "Mmmhhhh not patient eh?" You ask her as you opened your mouth, allowing her access to your tongue as well, meeting the two together as the kiss intensified. "We don't have much time." Yizhuo replied, before moving her kisses down onto your neck.

As her kisses continue, she starts unbuttoning your trousers, before lowering them as well as your pants, exposing your hard cock. This allows her to start grinding her wet core on your cock, rubbing it against her clit multiple times. "W-Wait, we don't have condoms." You said. Yizhuo groaned before she got up, kneeling in front of you as she hovered her mouth over your cock, opening it to let saliva drop onto your cock, stroking it well to get it even harder.

"Just put it in your mouth will you?" Yizhuo rolled her eyes before she puts your cock in her mouth, letting half of it inside before she starts hollowing her cheeks. She then lift her mouth off your cock before sucking it again, this time deeper by a bit. She repeat this a few times before she managed all of your cock inside her mouth, which is when she starts using her tongue to suck and lick the underside of your cock. "Mmmhhhh fuck Yizhuo that feels good." You groan, while holding her cheeks to caress as well as control her pace.

Her pace soon turned from soft and slow to hard and fast, increasing her bobbing pace, while also hollowing her mouth even more. As a "test", you decided to push her head onto your cock as deep as possible, pushing your cock deep into her throat, making her gag, before she surprisingly continued licking your cock. It took a few more seconds before she started gagging more, tapping your thighs to let her know she's suffocating, before you stopped, letting her gasp for air.

"You asshole." Yizhuo huffed. "I know, just make me cum." Yizhuo then continued sucking your cock, this time while also rubbing her tits, making her moan. This caused her to moan on your cock, exhaling warm breathes onto your cock, getting you closer to your orgasm. The final nail in the coffin was when she cupped your balls while also sucking your cock, making you cum as you held her head stable before thrusting deep into her mouth as you spurt your load into her throat.

"MMMHHHHH MMMMMHHHHH MMMMMMHHHHH" Her groans were heard clearly as your load fills her throat. It took a few loads before her mouth starts overflowing, shown by the fact that your cum started leaking out of her mouth and onto her lips and cheeks. "Mmmhhhh." You groaned as you finished cumming, pulling your cock out of her mouth. "Open your mouth." Yizhuo opened her mouth, showing your load inside her mouth. "Swallow it for daddy." Yizhuo then swallow it all, before moaning in pleasure, enjoying your load. "Daddy's load taste the best." "Of course. Now go with Watkins, I'll see you at your place tonight." You said as Yizhuo left your office.

(Later that night)

Throughout the whole day, especially after Yizhuo sucked you off, you wondered about the status of your relationship with her. Sure, she started off as your rival in class, at school. However, as time progresses, you couldn't ignore the fact that she's something else, her beauty is unique compared to others, and her body proportions are to your preferences. You also discovered the fact that the two of you are two horny teenagers. Hence, that made you decide to give her a proposition to become 'fuck buddies'. The two of you will help pleasure each other, and in return, you'll help her progress to achieve her dreams as an executive in Park & Co, your family-owned business.

What started off as a harmless sexual favor for two rivals turned to be something more as you two started adding 'flavor' into your bedroom activities. However, one 'flavor' the two of you couldn't ignore is her love of being praised, and calling her sexual partners 'daddy', which is why she has been calling you 'daddy' until now.

However, your recent revelations of her sexual activities besides you have put you in a tight spot. You want to make her exclusively for your use only, while she apparently desires being used by other guys (and girls) as well. You do know that if you want to make her exclusively yours, it will have to take a lot of convincing, as well as commitment from yourself.

This is a part of the reason why you're here, in front of her apartment door, ringing the door bell, wearing a black suit while holding a bouquet of roses.

"Oh! Mr Park! Please, come in. Yizhuo's just getting changed." Yizhuo's roommate, Kim Minjeong, also an employee at your company, greeted you. "Oh, of course Ms Kim." You said as you entered the apartment. You then sat on the couch while Minjeong went into a room, which you presume is Yizhuo's.

"S-Sorry for making you wait." You turned your head to the source of the voice and the sight in front of you took your breathe away.

"M-Ms Ning, it's alright,' You said as you stand up, before giving her the flower, 'it's for you." You saw Yizhou blush before accepting the flower, putting it on the woodfire before she grabs your hands as the two of you left her apartment for the gala, which happens to be held at the Grand Hyatt Seoul, which is one of the hotels you own.

Once you arrived at the event, the two of you greeted the guests before you gave an opening speech. As the night goes on, the two of you would part ways as she interacts with her peers while you continue greeting the guests.

However, a moment that turned your mood that night was when Yizhuo was getting handsy with another businessman you knew. You started discreetly moving closer to her, guiding the guests you greet towards her, allowing you to overhear what she says. "Join me Ms Yizhuo. Be my assistant." Your grip on the champagne glass tighten as you heard the offer. You greeted the last of your guests before turning your attention to Yizhuo and the businessman.

"Sorry Mr Kim, but my girlfriend and I have other activities to attend to. See you later." You said as you held Yizhuo's hands, guiding her away from the bar and THE guy, heading towards the elevator. Once inside, she starts asking you questions but you "covered" your ears, ignoring her questions. Once the elevator dinged, you guide her into your penthouse, guiding her into your room.

You pushed her against the door, leaning in to kiss her aggressively. It took her a few seconds to reply to the kiss, but when she did, you knew it's gonna be a wild one. You let her win the tongue battle as she took control of the kiss. However, you indeed surprised her by lifting her up, making her shriek as you moved your kisses down onto her cleavage. You unhook the strap on her dress, lowering them and exposing a black lace bra she had.

Her bra was off and her dress were around her midriff by the time you laid her down on the bed. "F-Fuck me daddy. P-Please." Ningning beg, and for the first time ever, you decide to not waste any time. You got up and reached for the bedside table, grabbing a box of condoms and throwing it on the bed next to Yizhuo. You then strip yourself naked before getting on Yizhuo, reaching under her panties to take them off, raising her dress onto her hips before you reach for the condoms.

To your surprise, she threw the condoms away. "I need your cock raw." "What's that babygirl?" "I said, I need your cock raw, daddy." "Good girl." With that, you thrust deep into her, earning a loud moan from her. You didn't allow her time to adjust to your size as you start thrusting hard and deep inside her. You put your hands on her hips, allowing her to stabilize herself. In return, she helped by wrapping her legs around your thighs, letting you get deeper inside her.

It took a few more minutes before you hit her g-spot, earning a loud moan and hard scratch from her. After a few more thrusts, she pulled you by your neck, wrapping her arms around your neck, pulling you into an intense kiss, making you slow down your thrusts. Once the kiss finishes, you increased your pace again, this time leaving hickeys on her neck.

This 'intimate' position allows you to feel and hear her pleasure, hearing how much her breathes got heavier after each thrust as well as her little whimpers after each thrust. It soon became easier for you to fuck her as her juices started leaking more. "Are you close babygirl?" She nodded as her pussy starts tightening up, signalling her closeness to an orgasm. "Use your words baby." "Y-Yes daddy."

You immediately flipped the two of you, still inside her, leaving her on top of you. "Ride me baby. Ride me until you cum." "Y-Yes daddy." Yizhuo's moans got louder as her increased tightness and juices helped allow the two to of you more stimulation. You helped her even more by rubbing her tits and clit. The effect was immediate as her pussy clenched even more, as well as her nipples perking up and her moans getting even louder.

"AHHHHH FUCKKKKK DADDYYYY YEAHHHHHH" Her moans echo inside the room as she came, squirting all over your cock and body. The strength of her squirts force your cock out of her pussy as she lifts herself up before continuing to squirt intensely all over your body, even shaking aggressively from her orgasm. It felt like a blur because around 20 seconds later after her orgasm ended, she collapsed onto your body. You immediately rubbed her back, helping her come down from her orgasm.

"Daddy didn't cum?" "No." "Alright then. Pound me daddy, use me until you fill me with your cum." Yizhuo asked.

You then set her on the bed, raising her ass up before getting behind her. You spank her repeatedly, for over 10 times, leaving a red mark on her ass cheek before you thrust into her again. "Ah fuck daddy, slow down." Staying true to yourself, you didn't listen to her request and just start fucking her hard and fast. You didn't focus on getting deep inside her as you plan to chase your own orgasm, and what better way to do that than to just use her as your fucktoy.

However, nature founds its way as her juices leak again, providing lubrication for your cock to get deeper inside her pussy, despite her tightness. You reached for her hair, grabbing it and yanking it, pulling her head back. You pulled it even more, lifting her body off the bed, leaving only her knees on the bed. This lets you hit her g-spot more, letting you feel her pussy, feeling it pulsing. You managed to pull her up, basically hugging her as you fuck her from behind.

"You close daddy?" "Mhmmm." "Alright, cum inside me daddy, please." Yizhuo's repetition of daddy got you closer and helped you fuck her faster, however, one word set you free. "Cum in me, papi."

"NNNGGGGHHHH" Both of your moans echo as you thrust deep inside her as you came, filling her womb up. You felt as she squirts again, mixing your cum with hers as the climax transferred you both into a new world of pleasure. The two of you continued moaning and gasping for air as your orgasm never seem to end.

"Fuck..." Was the last thing you muttered before you collapse on her, still being inside her.

(Later that night)

You were awaken when Yizhou left kisses on you. "Marry me." Yizhuo's eyes widen, and her cheeks blush. "W-What?" "Ning Yizhuo. I think this is wrong, on all levels, but from our first relationship as fuck buddies until now, I know that sooner or later, I'll want to make you mine forever. So, will you marry me?"

Yizhuo's eyes let out a drop of tear as she nods in excitement, making you smile as the two of you kiss again, before continuing to fuck like rabbits throughout the next 3 days.

[after-the-end-times]

Eddie's Never Been Chill a Day in his Life

For @steddieholidaydrabbles Prompt: Chill 🥶 Rating: G 🥶Words: 793 🥶 cw: none 🥶 Tags: Established Relationship, Corroded Coffin doesn't understand, Eddie has no chill, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson

“Oh, will you chill? It's not a big deal”

“Chill? Chill?! Ha!”

Eddie strikes a dramatic pose, one hand on his hip, finger on his lips and, despite the smile spreading across his face, his eyes are wide and angry staring down his friends.

“No, I don't think I will chill! Because I tell you, my best friends, my band, my comrades in arms, that I, Eddie Munson, have finally got myself a boyfriend and you, what? Say I can do better? Tell me you don't like him?!”

Eddie throws his head back laughing.

Gareth looks at Jeff who looks at Freak. They sometimes forget how scary Eddie can be when he turns his dramatics up to 10.

Which means it’s even more creepy in the quiet after Eddie’s laughter cuts off. A car door slams on the other side of the garage door. Jeff’s mom probably getting home from work.

“Dude, we just mean he isn't really- You know.”

“What? He isn't the best thing to happen to me? He isn't the kindest, sweetest, most self sacrificing man that I’ve ever met? Because guess what guys! He is. He's all that and more. He's funny and sarcastic and goofy and so so smart!”

“Eddie, he's a jock! You've always said-”

“And I was wrong! Ok!?” He blows out a harsh breath, continuing calmer “I was wrong and I judged without knowing. So what if he likes sports? He has hobbies and interests. Isn't that a good thing? Or would you rather I be with someone boring? Someone who thinks and acts just like me? So we can just sit there and stare at each other, because we have all the same opinions about everything? 'Cause, actually, I think I like it better this way.”

“Ok, ok we get it. You like him." Gareth huffs out a laugh.

Jeff adds with a chuckle. "Guess even you couldn't resist a pretty face, huh?”

Eddie scoffs. They just don't get it.

“Of course he's breathtaking. But he's all the more beautiful because of who he is inside. Don’t you get it yet? He has a gaggle of children who he loves and would do anything for. He has a best friend who he would literally get tortured for to spare her any hurt. He's even friends with his ex and the guy she cheated on him with! He's just so kind and forgiving, and yes it’s sometimes more than I'd want him to be, but that's- He's just so- I just- I love him.” He looks at them with wide pleading eyes. “Ok, guys? I love him and he's gonna be mine for as long as I can keep him. So, you guys just need to get with it, I guess.”

Eddie runs out of steam after that and crosses his arms protectively across his chest. He's still building his strength back up and he's been gesturing wildly for his whole rant.

The door on the side of the garage opens and Steve steps inside, shivering. The tip of his nose and ears are nipped pink from the cold, his hands are red and slightly trembling; he’s clearly been out there longer than it takes to run from the car to the garage.

“Steve.” Eddie breaths out and walks over to take his hands in his. He cups them and brings them up to his mouth, warming the frozen finger tips with his breath.

Steve’s gaze, so wide and hope filled, has been locked on Eddie since he came in.

“Do you really?” He finally asks, in a low voice just for them.

Eddie flicks his eyes up to meet Steve’s. For a fraction of a second he considers asking what he’s talking about, maybe playing off the moment with a joke, but no. Steve deserves to know. And he wants Steve to know.

“Steve,” He kisses the finger tips at his lips, still so cold, but finally warming. “I love you.”

“Eddie.” Steve’s shaking, though whether it’s still from the cold or from the force of his emotions, Eddie’s not sure. Either way, he suddenly has an armful of a Steve Harrington who is laughing so joyously, like it’s the only way he can release the amount of happiness that has suddenly over taken him. He gasps in a breath. “I love you, too, Eddie. Oh my god, I love you so much.”

Eddie pulls back grinning, he needs to see him right now, needs to see the joy he’s put on Steve’s face just by loving him.

Oh, Steve is glowing.

And in that moment, Eddie knows, without a singular doubt, he’s going to spend the rest of his life making Steve glow with happiness.

And they’re going to have a beautiful life.

~Fin~