your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.
you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.
apparently it wasn't.
after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)
you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.
his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.
then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.
he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.
"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.
praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?
"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."
that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.
but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.
"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."
you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.
"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"
he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.
"bloody fuckin' 'ell."
ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.
he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.
"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."
your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.
something you want him to keep hitting.
"exactly like i'd thought."
everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.
(inside o' ya, make you mine-)
(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)
(-ll to myself-)
you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.
(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)
if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.
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Just thought abt olderbf!simon fucking you in his rugby/football jersey and growling right in your ear something about giving you a pretty ring on your finger and his last name
there is nothing older bf!simon wants more than to see “RILEY” across your back as he’s hitting it from behind.
it’s only sunday morning local-rec-over-21’s rugby. it’s nothing special.
but there is you on the side lines, so cold he can see your breath and wrapped up in one of his thicker jackets.
he likes the way you smile and do a little jump when it’s a penalty for his team.
and he likes that little frown you get when someone tries to take him off at the knees.
and he really likes the way you get a little dazed when he’s tackling sorry bastards across the grass.
that same dazed look you get when he comes off the pitch covered in mud and smelling like sweat. when you pass him a towel and tell him to shower at home.
which is actually code for “get me home now and i’ll do that thing you like”
and it leads him to this, bending you over on the bed so he can see his last name stretched across your shoulders and imagine what it’ll be like when it’s finally yours.
he can feel the caveman-primal-madness coursing through him when he sees you with his name on his back. inexplicably hard at the thought-
the thought of you as his.
and whilst he hasn’t got it all planned out yet, he can pretend like he does. when he presses his chest to your back so you can hear his voice loud and clear.
“y’all mine? hmm? get t’keep y’forever? till death n’all that?”
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I've been thinking the past few days about how, after the scene in s2 where these huge chains fall from Stiles' locker, everyone in school thinks he's either in a gang or into some very deep BSDM, and there's like this tally that goes around where people annotate things they've heard him say and debate over why it points to one or the other.
I mean, someone will hear him say human sacrifices and they'll immediately go 'alright so this guy is roleplaying some very hardcore stuff', but then someone else will hear him say something like we gotta find the bodies and then it's like... maybe not roleplaying?
Werewolf? Depending on the context, it's a code word or the name of a rival gang (his gang??), or like some weird kink no one's sure they want to know much about.
Also, Derek Hale is definitely involved somehow, but this doesn't help clarify whether Stiles is in a gang or if he and Derek are just into some very kinky shit. There's a tally on that, too.
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lol arthur realizes with the other knights after watching merlin flirt and being hit with a wave of deja vu: holy shit you asked me out
merlin and the rest of the knights around a campfire after leaving a village bc lancelot and leon somehow started a brawl in the tavern: ???
arthur points at merlin: after valiant! you asked me to buy you a drink! you were asking me out!
merlin is busy cooking dinner and confused out of his fucking mind: what???…..valiant….oh the knight with the snakes.
gwaine who was slightly tipsy now stone cold sober and sitting up straight against a tree: wait. explain. what do you mean merlin asked you out??
arthur snaps his fingers as he recalls the memory: i apologized for sacking you and you said that if i bought you a drink we’d be even.
merlin now remembering how he had stumbled into camelot, picked a fight with a pigheaded bully which quickly turned homoerotic and flirtatious, and continued their teasing-flirting for days before merlin shot his shot and asked the prince out only to be rejected: oh yeah, i forgot i did that…..wait, you mean you didnt realize what i was asking?
arthur: no?? we argued everyday, how was i supposed to realize you were asking me out??
merlin now abandoning the dinner and staring across the camp at arthur while the rest of the knights watch their back and forth like a game of tennis: to you we were arguing, to me that was very much flirting. i thought you were flirting back so i decided to ask you. then you rejected me
arthur, mentally beating his past self up for fucking up their chance: i didn’t reject you!!! i just didn’t realize what you were asking me. how was i meant to? we fought every chance we got
leon, nudging elyan, glee and excitement riling through him: its happening!!! its finally happening!!! seven long, grueling years is finally paying off!!!
merlin, realizing the misunderstanding and acknowledging the fact that he wasn’t rejected, his flirtations just weren’t noticed - realizing he still has a chance: oh…oh i see. arthur, my dear, our fights were extremely flirtatious. need i remind you of what you said? “do you know how to walk on your knees? would you like me to teach you?” or “i could take you apart with one blow”
arthur, mental capabilities at an all time low: m…my dear….?????????
merlin grinning devilishly as he realizes that his flirtatious persona he had hidden away after falling head over heels for arthur can make a come back: that is what i called you. should i call you something else? say…mine?
percival gags in elyan’s ear: cheesy
elyan hides a laugh: at least they’re finally getting somewhere. better than the hopeless pining
arthur, flushed from head to toe: ah uh no um im uh
merlin thoroughly enjoying himself: oh come now, your majesty. use your words.
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Thinking about Black Widow Luo Binghe.
Hear me out -- so just like in canon, Shen Qingqiu self-destructs to save Luo Binghe, dies, and Luo Binghe steals his body to put on ice while he looks for methods to resurrect him. But unlike in canon, staving off decomposition is simply not that doable for a matter of years, even with cultivation and Luo Binghe pouring qi into the process. The qi costs are still high, so is Xin Mo, and now Binghe also needs a special artifact that can actually preserve Shen Qingqiu, but that runs on blood sacrifices.
To get the thing working, Luo Binghe feeds it a bunch of prisoners from the Water Prison. Then he starts kidnapping cultivators to drain for his own qi reserves, but that's difficult, controversial, and he can't use the same victims for the blood sacrifice afterwards. Frankly, between one thing and another it would be easier to satisfy Xin Mo with dual cultivation, and focus on finding victims for Shizun's Snow White style glass preservation coffin without having to choose between using targets for one or the other. Especially given that, if he finesses it, Luo Binghe can extend the use of his sacrifices and get more out of them with fewer deaths that way.
He's pretty sure that Shizun would want fewer deaths.
Of course, he is not a fan of the logistics of the plan itself, but he'd do worse things to one day be reunited. He consoles himself that he's building up bedroom experience for one day being with Shen Qingqiu, and that it doesn't really count because his heart's not really in it, and also if Shizun got to spend all that time in brothels then it's only fitting that Luo Binghe be his equal in this as well. It still doesn't make it pleasant for him, but it makes him able to tolerate the necessity of it.
So Luo Binghe ends up marrying a string of rich and powerful figures -- mostly the villainous single fathers and mothers and evil uncles of harem members from PIDW, rather than their daughters -- and coming up with creative ways of making all their deaths a few months into the process look like accidents. After the third one people are undeniably wary of marrying him, but there's always someone with a big enough ego to think they'll be an exception, or stupid enough to believe that it really has just been so much bad luck up to that point. It helps that the universe is predisposed to let him hit it.
When SY wakes up in the shroom body and hears about Luo Binghe's succession of marriages, he's not surprised. What he is surprised by is the bisexual graveyard of toxic dilfs and milfs that has replaced the harem.
What did he do to cause that?!
And what does Luo Binghe mean that he wants to marry his own shizun now? Is this his new method of revenge??? Binghe, you don't have to marry someone to kill them!
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