#home office ideas for small spaces

[elbeetbetak]

Computer Arm Rest 

.Product information：The new generation of arm support plate integrates the deficiencies of other products, adopts a more reasonable and stable structure, and concentrates on solving the problem of neck and shoulder pain caused by long time work of users and hanging arm! 2.Product Material：This product uses a sheet that meets the European standard E1 level，Stainless steel double K-shaped support frame, double clamps are locked on the desktop, making the product more fit and stable on the desktop! 3.Folding design: It is convenient for users to fold and store at 90°when they are not needed, and does not take up your space!

“Buy now and enjoy a shopping experience that oozes quality and comfort!”

[nirvanabuilders]

Maximizing Space and Layout in a Modern Garage Conversion

A garage conversion can breathe new life into an underused space, turning it into a stylish and functional part of your home. Whether you’re creating a home office, guest suite, or cozy living area, a smart approach to layout and space optimization is key. Here’s how to make the most of every inch during your garage remodeling & conversion, ensuring a space that’s practical and welcoming.

Plan for an Open Layout An open layout can make a converted garage feel more spacious and inviting. By minimizing walls and partitions, you can create a versatile space that accommodates different activities. For example, an open-plan living room can double as a home office or workout area. Open layouts are perfect for maintaining a modern aesthetic, allowing light to flow throughout the space and making the room feel larger.

Focus on Multi-Functional Design When space is limited, every feature should serve more than one purpose. In your garage remodeling & conversion, consider incorporating multi-functional furniture like fold-out sofas, Murphy beds, or built-in desks. These pieces allow you to adapt the space based on your needs, whether it’s hosting guests or creating a quiet work-from-home corner. By prioritizing flexibility, you’ll maximize the functionality of your converted space without sacrificing style.

Use Smart Storage Solutions Storage is often a challenge in garage conversions, but with some creative thinking, you can keep the space organized and clutter-free. Consider adding built-in shelving, wall-mounted cabinets, or floating shelves to maximize vertical space. A custom storage wall can hold everything from books to workout gear while keeping the floor area clear. These solutions not only help optimize the layout but also maintain a clean, modern look that’s ideal for any garage remodeling & conversion.

Maximize Natural Light Natural light can transform a garage conversion from a dark, enclosed space into a bright, welcoming area. During your garage remodeling & conversion, consider installing large windows, glass doors, or even skylights to bring in as much natural light as possible. A bright space feels larger and more open, making it ideal for a modern design. If privacy is a concern, opt for frosted or tinted glass to maintain a balance between light and seclusion.

Define Zones Without Walls To keep the open feel while still creating distinct areas, try using design elements like rugs, furniture arrangement, or partial dividers to define different zones. For instance, you can use a sectional sofa to separate a seating area from a workspace, or a bookshelf to create a subtle division between a bedroom nook and a living area. These techniques help maintain flow while giving the space structure, making your garage remodeling & conversion more versatile.

Invest in Proper Insulation and Ventilation Comfort is key when converting a garage into a living space. Since garages are not usually built for living, adding insulation to walls, ceilings, and floors is crucial to maintain a comfortable temperature year-round. Proper ventilation is also important, especially if the space includes a bathroom or kitchen area. A well-insulated and ventilated space not only feels more like home but also ensures that your garage remodeling & conversion adds value to your property.

Choose Space-Saving Fixtures and Appliances If your conversion includes a small kitchenette or bathroom, look for space-saving fixtures that keep things compact without compromising functionality. Wall-mounted sinks, compact appliances, and corner showers can fit seamlessly into tight areas. These choices help free up floor space, allowing you to create a modern, uncluttered look that aligns with the rest of your home’s design.

Blend the Design with the Rest of Your Home For a smooth transition between your converted garage and the main house, use design elements that match your home’s overall style. Whether it’s matching the flooring, paint colors, or hardware finishes, these small touches make the space feel like a natural extension of your home. This attention to detail ensures that your garage remodeling & conversion doesn’t just add space—it enhances the overall flow and aesthetic of your property.

Make It Your Own with Personal Touches Ultimately, your garage conversion should reflect your unique style and needs. Add personal touches like artwork, plants, or custom lighting fixtures to make the space feel warm and inviting. A few well-chosen decorative elements can transform a practical design into a room that feels truly special, making your garage remodeling & conversion a success.

By focusing on layout, storage, and smart design choices, you can turn your garage into a space that’s as functional as it is stylish. With the right approach, your garage remodeling & conversion can provide the perfect blend of modern design and everyday practicality. Ready to start transforming your garage? Begin planning today, and make the most of this exciting opportunity to expand your home’s living space.

[yoshistory]

*puts everything unsightly away* ahhhh finally *nothing is out*

[bunnys-kisses]

trappin' (price's version)

capt. john price

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, baby trapping & pregnancy, dumb!reader, mafia don!price, rich!price, burly & hairy!price, tattoos, age gap (20s/40s)

bunny says: reblogs & comments are always appreciated! i have a few ideas in my head about maybe a simon version or a konig version! (please leave your suggestions!!!)

this was going to be so painfully easy. when you saw which shelf the older man ordered from, you saw dollar signs in your eyes. so with the front zipper of your dress pulled down a little to show off the 'goods', you went over to him at the bar.

you were flirty and sweet. your hand on his bicep, you didn't realize the toned muscles of his arms. oh, he was more than just a rich older man.

"well, aren't you just a sweet thing." he rubbed the top of your head. he said his name, "john price, love." like you should've known it. so you simply nodded when he told you it, and you gave your own name.

"how about we get out of here?" you asked with a cute smile, "i'm not really the best at bars, sadly." then dropped the smile into a small pout.

he hung over you like a shadow as he cupped your face, "aw, someone scared?"

you nodded, giving him the most innocent look, "can i go home with you tonight, mister price?" you saw his expression soften at the question. hook, line & sinker.

you had poked holes in the condom. happy to hand it over under the guise of you needing to 'protect' yourself. as if it didn't look like a strainer with all the holes in it.

price watched you get undressed slowly. he eyed you with a predator's gaze as he undid his tie and took off the jacket of his suit. price looked and smelled expensive, it would be perfect little paycheck. your thoughts were filled with stacks of sterling pounds, that you didn't even catch that price noticed the holes in the condom and chuckled.

silly girl, he thought. he knew exactly what you were doing. you weren't the first person to try and squeeze money out of him via a little price brat. but price got hard at the idea of such a gorgeous, conniving woman would fail so beautifully.

he did need a wife after all, and the ones the family were trying to pair him with were simply so boring. you, on the other hand, were a little firecracker who knew what she wanted. but as he pressed you into the bed, his lips on the back of your neck as he rubbed his cock up against his ass. he knew that he needed a ring on you fast.

"mmm, that feels good." he said, "see how hard ya made me, love?"

you'd do just fine as mrs. price. don't worry your little head though, you weren't going to get involved with the family business. just make sure that you make price lunch before he heads to the office and tuck the kids into bed before he comes home.

your stomach did somersaults when you felt the pressure of his tattooed hand against your throat. you saw all of his tattoos on his hairy body when he undressed. you had no idea what they represented, while the one of the dagger was a little more obvious (not to you), even the "gentler" ones, like the flag of his hometown on his shoulder or 141 on his collarbone painted a grim story of price's past.

you should've not poked those holes in that condom. silly girl.

he pushed you deep into the pillows of his hotel room. he had you bent at an awkward angle and polluted all of your space. leaving you little room to breathe as he sank his cock into your waiting hole.

price was a bad man, you should've ran when you had the chance. because when he got his cock wet in you, he felt a sense of euphoria that he never had with any other slag he had been with. you were different, it was like the heavens had opened and given him a gift.

a pretty young thing with a need to be bred.

oh yeah, he was keeping you. there were no questions asked. one hand on your throat, the other on your hip as he thrusted into you. he knew, he knew right then that you weren't getting too far after tonight. maybe he'd let you slip out think you got what you wanted, but that was all just to add a little fun to your game.

thinking that you were the top dog in this, but you were just a scrappy little thing. nothing like the pitbull that price was. he didn't manage an entire mafia family without getting a little... tough. and you may go back to your crummy little flat and wait anxiously for the pregnancy test to come back positive.

but come the end of tomorrow, he'd already know everything he needed to know about you. from where you lived and went to school to how many moles were on your back. hell, even if you were ovulating to begin with.

he pressed your head further into the bed and thrusted into you. your ass shook with each heavy stroke of his cock inside of you. and don't worry, if it doesn't take this time. there's always next time, and the time after, and the time after that.

ah, you silly little thing. this wasn't a one night stand. this was price prepping you for being his wife. you thought you were getting away with one kid? one kid in his world is rookie numbers, you'll be having your hands full for a good while.

he continued to rut into you, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. with each one you became some soft for him, you harsh moans because soft little mewls as each orgasm hit.

"such a good girl. aren't i lucky to have found ya." he got both hands on his hips and he battered your womb with his impressive size. he was big and hairy all over, covered in tattoos and an accent that melted your brain.

you fit him like a glove, it was a sign you two were meant to be together! he was still fucking you with the stamina of someone closer to your age, meanwhile you were laid out under him with your eyes barely open. poor girl's gone and got her brains fucked out for the night.

that was alright, meant that price could dump a few loads into you before you came to again. he'd of course never hurt you, not in that way. but you were the temptress that led him back to his room, he was just reaping his reward.

he panted against your ear, the filth in his words made your pussy clench around his aching cock. all it took was two little cells to mix together and you'd be a proper mama.

don't worry, price hasn't ruined all of his swimmers over the years.

with a few more thrusts, price found heaven. he shot his seed into your pussy. spat it right up against your womb, a promise of what was to come.

"john." you said with a loose tongue.

"didn't finish yet." he lied, "almost there. you just lie there for me, alright? i'll take good care of ya, baby girl."

he didn't even bother to pull out as he got you on your back. he wanted to see that blissed out expression while he put your knees to your ears and your puffy, wet cunt on display.

a proper mating press for the silly little girl who thought she was going to pull the rug out from under mister jonathan price.

-

you rubbed your lower back and huffed. you were only in your fifth month, but the baby was expected to be rather big. you couldn't complain only a fool would climb the mountain that was john price.

one of the most dangerous men in london.

what started out as a ploy to get enough money to pay for university ended with you dropping out to be price's full-time housewife. with the rock, the house and the baby to prove it. this was your second pregnancy in three years, with your daughter happily sitting in her high chair. her father sitting by her, keeping her busy while you cooked.

one of his tattooed fingers pointed to the pictures in the children's book he had open for her. he was determined to make sure that she could read a little bit before she went off to school in another two years.

"see that's a cow, baby girl." he said, "like the ones we see when we go drivin'." he was very attentive for a man who had snuffed the life out of people with his bare hands.

but he'd never hard a hair on you, your daughter or your future son's heads. he could barely be rough with you during sex nowadays!

it was summertime once more, the heat of july rolled through the old house you called him. you had kept the dress that caused this marriage and family, but with the mama chub on your hips you weren't fitting into it again anytime soon.

but price didn't mind, a good mother like you shouldn't be showing off what is his anyway. <3

[saltofmercury]

Pairing: König x reader

Plot: Someone breaks into the house at night while you and König are sleeping.

A/N: Had a random idea about what would happen in this scenario.

“The Break in.”

Over three break-ins had happened over the weekend. All unfortunately 4 blocks away from your apartment. Break-ins didn’t scare you. You felt like your apartment complex was in better condition than most of the apartments surrounding the neighborhood. In addition to that, you weren’t too concerned because you were tucked away for the weekend with König.

You didn’t think a person who saw him would even attempt to do something, especially at his own house.

König, on the other hand, was worried sick.

“Maybe you could stay here for a couple more days. It wouldn’t be a bother, honest.”

You didn’t like the sound of it. Breaking into his routine which he then would be uncomfortable with. You knew how he liked his space. He needed a couple days to recharge, be with himself, and then come back to you.

You remember how antsy he got when you overstayed your welcome one weekend. He kept finding excuses to be alone.

“I’m going to read in my office. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

“I’m going to the gym for a workout. I'll be back soon.”

“I know you want to finish your show, I’ll be watching the game in my bedroom.”

It wasn’t until you were getting the shower that he had crept up and asked shyly if you needed company.

You laughed.

“Oh now you want my company?”

He traced his finger along the bathroom counter looking down.

“I never said I didn’t want your company, we just always shower together.”

So you knew keeping yourself here would only have him finding excuses in his own house to find privacy.

König would deny this. He loved your company, he loved waking up next to you with your legs on top of his. Seeing your toothbrush next to his on the counter. He loved seeing your products lined up on the bathroom shelf next to his. Your clothes piled on his dresser, your bras hanging on the doorknobs in his bathroom, or scattered around the floor after hastily getting to devour each other in bed. Small little pieces of you throughout the house reminding him you were home.

Sure he liked his space, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t distance himself from another room for him to recharge and come back to you.

He was adjusting rapidly to you being around him all the time. He wanted you around all the time.

Which is why he wanted you to stay here, in a house, where someone could protect you.

*

König never told you the missions he was on. You sort of preferred that way. He would just tell you the gist of the mission. He was very careful about not scaring you away with what his real job was. He was good at what he did, but he preferred to keep what he was out on the field away from you.

Calmly, while watching you, he gave you just enough to not try and scare you.

“It was a room of about 15 people. I was first one in.”

You stared at him. You knew he was hiding the real him. “Mercenary” was the word he used, however he never described the things a mercenary did.

There was nothing scarier knowing König was a shark at sea but there could be a bigger fish that would one day end it.

Part of you was glad he could protect you and himself from anyone and anything given his training and ruthless alter ego out on the field, but another part of you was worried someone out there would be quicker or one step ahead of him.

*

You packed your overnight bag with your dirty clothes.

“Where are you going?” He stepped out of the bathroom watching you collect your clothes.

“Home, I have a lot of work to catch up on and do laundry.”

“Okay we bring your laptop back here and we can start a load of colors here.” He replied so casually.

You laughed.

“Although that is tempting, it’s fine. I’ll be back this weekend.”

He didn’t like hearing that.

“Baby please, you know how dangerous it is around where you live right now. Just stay one more night. I’ll go pick up your laptop and —“

You cut him off:

“It was 4 blocks away, König. It wasn’t even my apartment. I know I’ll be safe.”

“Well I don’t care if it was in another town, I don’t like the idea of you staying alone when someone is out there like that.”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t like the idea of someone robbing houses when your job is ten times scarier?”

He leaned against the bathroom doorway, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Exactly. What if this guy is like me and he’s out there attacking houses because he knows how to do it so well that he’s not getting caught?”

You rolled your eyes

“I'm sure a trained military man is out there robbing houses for fun.”

“y/n!” He stopped you. “This is serious, would you want to run into me?”

You smirked, stood up, and went over to him.

“Yes I would actually, because I know your weaknesses.”

You gently ran your fingers down his stomach.

“I would know how to take someone like you down so easily.” You whispered.

You stood on your tip toes and kissed his chin.

He didn’t like the idea of you flirting when speaking about your life. With that, he took your bag and shoved it into the top shelf of the closet.

“You’re staying here and that's final. I’m not going to risk anything.”

He ended up taking you to your apartment, telling you to get extra clothes, your laptop, and anything else you needed. You settled back into his house again.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” You asked one last time.

“Of course not. I can never have enough of you.”

*

You both had dinner, showered, and got in bed.

He pulled you against his chest and held you close.

“Thank you for staying here. It gives me peace of mind. I enjoy your company.”

You blushed, leaned in for a kiss, and mumbled “if it’s not bother then okay…”

You settled into the night routine you both had. He watched a show on his iPad, while you read through a book before both falling asleep.

*

It was around 3AM when you heard the speakers in the living room turn on. Your eyelids still closed, you searched for König with one arm. An empty space in bed. You sat up, fear crawling up your throat.

König was already up and placed himself by the doorframe, a bat in hand, mask covering his face, and shoes on.

Had someone come inside the house? Another crash, scratches on the floor, and some scrambling.

König looked back at you, told you to stay put.

“Do. Not. Leave. This. Room.” He said it low, his accent had come out. He looked at you, but you didn’t recognize this König. He stood different, sounded different. You felt your stomach turn, the hair on your neck rise.

Where did he get the bat from?

Now you were scared. You weren’t ready to see this kind of person he was.

You heard his calculated footsteps as he checked the hallway bathroom and guest room, slamming open the doors so hard and loud they bounced against the walls. He continued to stomp all the way down towards where the sound was.

You suddenly felt safe, how thorough he was checking all the rooms and how bravely he went into each room announcing himself with just his body. You were now glad you stayed with him.

… then out of nowhere, you heard him laughing. A loud, boisterous, breathless laugh.

You shouted from the room “Who is it?!”

You hear him drop the bat, the bat clinking on the floor. Footsteps followed closer to the door.

“Not who schatz, but what.” His voice had come closer. Standing there, he was holding a small baby raccoon. The raccoon was being held up by his neck with one hand, and his other hand placed underneath him.

You screamed —“Becareful! We don’t know where it’s been!”

König tilted his head at you and then mumbled “it’s only Monty’s baby.”

Monty?

König went to the backyard and placed the small raccoon outside. He came back into the house, washed his hands, and walked into the room.

What just happened?

“What was that?!” You were confused, at a loss for words.

He settled himself back into bed and pulled you close.

“Monty is the raccoon that lives in the backyard. She had babies.”

You looked up at him still confused.

“All this time you’ve been staying here and you haven’t seen Monty and her family?” He asked innocently.

“I’ll tell you all about them.” He turned the light off.

What was happening? Was this a dream?

Part of you was still confused but you settled in and relaxed anyway. The other part of you was secretly relieved that because of him, you felt safe enough to go back to sleep.

[juletheghoul]

Grown

AN: I am sort of going through a writing bender? A manic episode? I don't know, I just know that if I don't get it down I will lose my mind. I have been wanting to write an age-gap fic for Joel (aside from LMF) for a while but I couldn't really find the format or the idea that I could sink my teeth into. There are SO MANY good ones out there, I even had a whole other thing started but it got too intense, and making it sexual wouldn't have been true to that version of Joel, so here is what I came up with. (I kept Tess out of this story) Big thank you to @foli-vora for letting me exorcise this demon, and to @frannyzooey for putting up with my endless messages and voice notes through discord, love y'all! (this is unbeta'd and barely proofread, any and all mistakes are mine)

Joel Miller x F!reader (sex worker) (Joel calls you ‘Pretty’)

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) , language, Smut 18+, PIV sex (wrap it up), fingering, cream pie, one lonely little lick of his cock👅, come play sort of? dirty talk, age gap (legal), feelings of guilt, talk of sex work, some of it traumatic (no details, no violence)

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist 

He was a risk, calculated but definitely worth it up close. He fidgeted, flexing and unflexing his hands as you moved around the tiny studio apartment. Your home, and ‘office’. You’d searched long and hard, and paid a hefty price for the soft lamps, the newish linens for your bed, the homey touches.

He shifted his weight as you put the quilt down, separating the outside world from the privacy of your sheets. Easier to clean up after too. 

“Boots off, please.” You gesture to the place by the door, and he nodded with a frown. 

“Sorry.” He groaned as he brought his foot up and for a moment you saw his age, through the pleasant features. 

“No problem, how do you want me?” You stand at the foot of the bed, naked under the well-worn, but cherished robe and for a moment he gawps. You don’t laugh, men don’t like it when you laugh. “On my back?” 

“Wait- how old are you again?” He pads over, tall and broad, obscuring the light source when he walks past it. 

“Old enough.” You smile, “come, why don’t you sit here with me?” You hold out your hand to him, and after a tense glance, he takes it and sits where you gesture. His grip is firm, but soft, years of hard work rooted in the calluses that meet your significantly softer palm. It isn’t a turn off though, he’s a man, men work hard. The real ones do, or did anyway.

“How long do I have? S’there anyone else…?” He trails off, his voice cutting off and you smile, placating. 

“You have as long as you need, tonight's all yours.” You sit beside him, and put your hand tentatively on his arm, channeling every single ounce of calm you have and pouring it into him. He’s warm and alive beside you, heat radiating off him under the soft pass of your thumb against the skin peeking out under the denim sleeve, you let the soft light, the light patter of rain outside your window work on him. He surveys the area, learning the layout of your space and you don’t interfere, you follow his gaze and try to see it all from his point of view. 

It's small, but comfortable. It’s exceedingly clean, you’d spent hours and hours making sure, back breaking hours on your hands and knees scrubbing and washing and it had paid off, no matter how sore you’d been after. There’s a little table, with two chairs, a big lumpy chair near the window, where you spent most of your time not working curled up with one of your precious books. He noticed the tiny chest of drawers, the top of it clear except for a half-full glass of water. He saw the baseball bat leaning against the wall tucked just behind it. 

“Can I get a little closer?” You scoot a little, pressing your thigh to his, turning to hold his restless arm between your breasts, your fingers intertwining with his while he got accustomed to your own warmth. Those big, callused, hard-working hands wrapped up in yours. Invitingly warm.

Some people needed a little push, sometimes they were nervous on how to start and they needed someone to get them out of their heads. Some wanted to talk, to sprawl out naked with you and get all of their thoughts out. 

Loneliness is the main malady you alleviate. 

Some didn’t want to talk at all, some just wanted you to open your legs and take, and that was okay too. Everyone had their thing. 

“This okay?” You put your linked palms on the little bit of skin poking out through the gap in your robe, your skin surrounding both sides of his hand. 

“Yeah, s’okay.” He watches the robe slip open, and his other hand joins the fray, pulling it apart to see more of your thigh. He licks his lip as more of you is revealed and you artfully let the shoulder slip, drawing his eye up to your cleavage. He pats his leg, and you get a genuine thrill, sliding over and up onto his lap. He needed no further guidance after that, now that he had permission, his body was taking over. 

His eyes were dark, focused, tracking the line of your throat when you swallowed thickly. He watched the way your breath hitched when he slid his hand up your inner thigh and found you bare underneath, his fingers slipping through the silky hair at your mound, his fingers parting your lips softly to find your slick folds. He lets out a shuddering breath at the same time you do, when his finger slips over your clit. 

“I’m too old for you, pretty.” He watches his hand between your legs, using it to spread your thighs enough to see your pussy dripping for him. 

“You don’t feel too old.” You hold onto his neck, giving him more access and your stomach drops to feel him hardening under the swell of your ass. You pull his hand from between your legs, and dip his fingers into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around them before pressing them back against your achy clit. He pulls a genuine moan of pleasure at the extra slip when he swirls around your clit nice and slow. Tortuous, and talented.

“So fuckin’ soft,” He glides his fingers down, circling your entrance but his eyes are focused on your mouth now, “bet you’re tight as a fist, aren’t you baby?” He slides two thick fingers inside and you clutch at him, more turned on by him than you’ve ever been doing this line of work.

It’s a stretch, but he works them in, pressing against your upper wall, looking for something and when he finds it you whimper in his arms. 

“Do you kiss?” You barely hear him over the blood pounding in your ears, his fingers curling inside you, and he puts more pressure on the button he’s found and you moan, lost and mindlessly enjoying the fullness. 

He presses devastatingly soft, tender kisses to your throat, completely at odds with the wet sounds of his exploration between your legs. 

“Baby, can we kiss?” He repeats it, this time with his fingers still, but stuffed deep. You press your mouth to his, humid and hot and he tastes like the good alcohol you have stashed in your cupboard. He groans and his fingers scissor inside you, squelching between your legs with every lazy pump. He traps your bottom lip between his, alternating a teasing bite to the plump of it, with deep licks into your mouth. You’ve never been kissed like this. 

“You just gonna use your fingers?” He pulls away to skim his nose down your neck, bunching the top of the robe in the splayed hand at your back to pull it down from where it hangs on your shoulder. His mouth engulfs your nipple when it falls and any thoughts that he may be too old for you seem to slip his mind because he doubles down, moaning obscenely into your skin as you leak onto his lap. 

“No, just wanna open you up, I wanna make sure this little pussy can take me.” Arousal and excitement pools in your belly. 

“What a gentleman.” You laugh, half crazed with lust for this man who just might be old enough to be your father. He smiles, drunk on the way your pussy clenches around his fingers, his spit still shining on your breast. He has a dimple, so boyish in contrast to the grey in his beard and in his hair you can’t help but love it, it suits him.

“Spread your legs a little more for me darlin’,” one hand is heavy on your hip, holding you so you can drop one leg and open up a little more, “I wanna see you come,” he speeds up, his thumb now doing tight little circles against your clit and you moan, unabashedly, “look how wet she is,” he stares between your legs “I just wanna see her come.” He hooks his fingers again and the pressure is almost too much. It only takes a few moments, his fingers pet, pet, pet and then you clench, the pleasure going off in your belly like a bomb, radiating out through your breasts, into your hips, all the way down to your fingers and toes. 

A universe contained within your body, borne of his hand.

“Fuck.” Your legs close over his hand, and he slows down but doesn’t stop, a softer, slower stroke while you catch your breath. “Let's get you outta these clothes.” you start undoing the buttons to his shirt, admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the smattering of freckles littered along his skin. He pulls his fingers out from between your legs, shiny and dripping in you and sticks them into his mouth, moaning at the tang of you. 

Undressing him is like opening a gift. His arms are strong, his biceps flexing when he all but lifts you up to stand, pulling your robe off and away from you like it’s on fire. His midsection is soft, but you can feel the strength underneath when you undo his jeans, tensing in excitement the closer you get to the considerable bulge in them. You curl your fingers around both his jeans, and his boxers, impatient to get him naked. You crouch as you pull them down, mouth watering at the size of him, hard and bobbing in front of you. The muscles in his thighs are firm, his skin so warm and you can’t help but lick a stripe up the underside of his cock on the way back up. 

He lets out a sound like he's been punched in the gut and you take it in like sustenance. 

“Don’t–I’ll come too fast if you put it in your mouth.”

You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, just as he reaches down to grab and spread the cheeks of your ass, stomach full of butterflies at the feeling of him hard and leaking against your belly. 

“But I wanna swallow it, I wanna feel it in my throat.” You pout and he lets out a shuddering breath, “Don’t you wanna fuck my mouth?” You press your lips to the hollow of his throat, your fingers slipping through the unruly, grey strands at the back of his neck. 

“Not now baby, I’m barely goin' to last as it is.” He turns you, pressing you to lay in the middle of your quilt and he’s quick to follow, fitting himself between your legs, leaning on one arm beside your skull and when he grabs his cock and gives it a few strokes, you almost can’t watch him. It’s too erotic, it looks so big in his hand, too big to fit but you know it will, he’ll make it fit. 

“Jesus Christ,” He whispers as he feeds himself inside you slowly, an inch, before pulling it out, then a little more, until he’s fucking you a little deeper each time. 

There wasn’t enough air in the room to fill your lungs, he took up every fucking drop. You’d been with other men, you’d been with women, all of them taking their pleasure from your body and most of them giving pleasure in return, this was something else. This was almost scary, the way the vision of him above you made your brain buzz and your nipples hard, made your cunt leak all over him. 

He moves up onto his knees, those big hands pull your legs up and apart, pressing the backs of your thighs into your chest, practically folding you in half to slide his cock deeper still.

He snapped his hips hard, pulling a sound you’d never made out of your mouth, again, and again, until it was a continuous babble. He watches the way his cock disappears inside the tight clutch of your cunt with every dirty roll of his hips. He sinks a little further down, and adjusts his stroke, until just the tip of it stays inside of every heavy push forward. 

This isn’t some desperate, lonely old guy looking to get his dick wet, this is a grown man, fucking you like a grown man does and you feel like a grown woman taking it. 

“Joel, baby that’s so fucking good-“ you press your hands to his chest where he leans against you. He’s focused, eyes glazed over, sweat dripping down his nose in his efforts. He shuts his eyes tight for a moment, his pace stuttering slightly and you know he’s not gonna last.

“I wanna see her come with me inside,” he whines, and you don’t want him to stop what he’s doing so you reach down and swirl your fingers around your clit while he watches, “that’s it baby, that’s it, fuck, I’m close-“ he somehow spreads you wider, the wet suck of your pussy is louder, more obscene, more erotic. 

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna-“ the orgasm strangles the words in your throat, pulsing him out but he pushes back in and you feel it all the way in your toes. 

“Fuuuuuckkk—“ he pulls out and pumps himself furiously against your mound, covering the soft patch of hair in spurt after milky spurt. It’s a lot, some has splashed onto your hip, your belly, you feel it slipping down to where you clench, empty and gaping without him filling you. 

It’s quiet for a moment after, while your blood cools, and he milks himself dry, pumping a few more times despite the over-sensitivity. 

“You got anything for me to clean you up with?” He rubs at the indents he left on the back of your thighs before unfolding you. 

“There’s a little pile of rags in that first drawer behind you.” You point to the tiny chest of drawers, and he groans when he moves up and off of you. Now that he’s emptied his balls, the signs of his age rear their heads. He groans, wincing as he bends forward to carefully wipe everything away with gentle hands. 

It’s nice to see him walk around naked, welcome, you wouldn’t mind seeing it more often, if he came back that was. 

“That was-“ he scratches at the back of his neck, passing the cloth over your belly, “that was really good.”

“I’ll say, it was better than good.” You stretch out and luxuriate like a cat in warm patch of sun, seriously debating offering him time to recover so he could fuck you again. He quirks his lip, the ghost of a smile, the confidence dulled to shy, awkward fumbling. He tosses the rag into the little basket you point to, and he begins the process of getting dressed. You get up when he’s almost done, your thighs, and what’s between already sore and pick up your robe. He’s putting his neat little stack of ration cards on the table when you finish tying it up. 

“Thanks.” He pulls his boots on, opening your door before turning back to find you right on his heels. 

“Anytime.” You smile at him, hoping it won’t be a one-time thing. He moves to step outside but you pull him back, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking something for your own. He kisses you back when you press your mouth to his, it's softer, his tongue sweet when it tangles with yours and you smile into the kiss when he reaches down, and grabs your ass. 

“Bye, Pretty.”

“Bye Joel.”

-

You hadn't fallen into the work, so much as slowly slid into it. The first time had been almost a dare, a challenge to yourself, a proposition made by someone and maybe your own foolish, naive need to prove that you weren’t some stupid baby. A man, an older man that had shared cleaning duty with you had come right out with it, saw you bending over to pick something off the floor and told you that he’d pay every ration card he had for a taste of that ass, as he so eloquently put it. 

At first you’d been shocked, he seemed like a perfectly bland, run of the mill survivor making his way in the QZ, but he’d been serious. You’d asked him to clarify, to repeat his words, and he had. He’d shaken his hands of the dirt and dust of the job, produced a tiny stack of much needed ration cards from a hidden pocket and held them out for you like a cold glass of water in the desert. Something inside you had recoiled, he wasn’t repulsive, but he wasn’t exactly the object of your late night fantasies. Another part though, a hidden little sliver of something jumped at the chance to have some power, some semblance of control and so without much thought to consequence, you’d taken him up on it. 

An uncomfortable fifteen minutes later, he was grunting behind you, stroking himself furiously to paint the cheeks of your ass in his come. 

Once it was done, the little part of you that had welcomed the challenge was curiously absent, and the part that had recoiled was bigger, swelling like some awful, infected limb. But you had rations enough to stop working for a few days, and that took some of the repulsion away. 

It was a while before you did it again. It was a while before you saw the man again, maybe part of you, that ever-present bit of self-preservation urged you to avoid him but he eventually found you again. This time you turned him down, and he hadn’t pressed, but he’d told others. Other men who seemed to sniff you out, some of them older, and less diplomatic and those you told to fuck off. Some of the younger ones though, closer to your age looking for the experience, some of them you took in, with the strict promise to never tell anyone unless they wanted to never see you again. Those experiences were better, less traumatic. 

After that it seemed like things came together, you had a steady string of people who took you seriously and paid up front. 

The first woman had been a girl of around your age, she’d heard from a friend of a friend, carefully and strategically keeping the source to herself. You’d never really given it much thought but once you did it seemed only natural, women got lonely too, and there was nothing about her that you didn’t understand. So you accepted her, took her rations and gave her as much of yourself as you gave the men. 

It’d taken time to establish yourself, to find the regular people you let into the circle, it was all much easier now. With the exception of Joel, you hadn’t taken on someone new in a while, but he made you glad you did.

-

His hands always shake before it starts. 

It’s a light tremble, a couple of fingers in his left hand and you aren’t entirely sure if it’s an injury, or a sign of nerves. He’s hard of hearing in one ear too, his right. You hadn't picked up on it at first but once you do, it makes sense. He tilts his head to the right a tiny bit, turning his good ear towards your mouth. It doesn’t bother you. 

He was older than the rest, that did bother him, but never enough to stop visiting. He dragged it out sometimes, made himself wait, avoided you, but whether it took him a week or a month, he came back. 

“Hi Joel.” You smiled to see him standing at the threshold, fingers twitching by his side, his hair a mess, a small bundle in his grip.

“Hi.” He doesn’t smile back, he’d waited too long, the frown practically tattooed on. He puts the bundle down on the dresser after kicking off his boots, and doesn’t mention it. 

It’s dark outside, later than you usually let anyone come see you but for him you make exceptions. His hands keep rubbing at his thighs, his eyes darting around, you let him settle for a moment, get his bearings before jumping into anything, it’s a dance and you both have your steps. 

“How do you want me?” You finally break the silence once he sits on the quilt. He looks up at you, but doesn’t answer right away, his eyes fall to your cleavage, then down to your waist where the robe is cinched, then further still to your hips. You move closer, until you stand between his spread thighs. 

“Hm? Wanna fuck me on my back? Or should I get on my hands and knees?” You thread your fingers through his hair, slicking it back as best you can, he shudders at your words and at the feeling of your hands on him, putting up his usual show of shame at being here with you, at being older. “Should I get on my knees right here and suck your cock?” His hands land on your hips, his face pressing against your sternum, robe parting enough for him to press his lips to the valley between your breasts.

“You’re too fuckin’ soft, way too fuckin’ pretty to be lettin’ me touch you.” He always does this, has to make it known that you shouldn’t let him do this, that he shouldn’t want you like this. It never stops him, he opens the robe and pushes it off to fall on the floor regardless of his words and moans into the skin of your breast where he nuzzles like a cat.

“Prettiest thing I ever saw.” His mouth laves at one pert nipple, then the other, leaving them hard and shiny when he trails his kisses down to your belly. 

All day you’ve thought about him here, getting to have him to yourself, opening you up and molding you to fit him like a glove, making you see stars like he always does. And all day you’ve felt that slow simmer of arousal, that steady ache to bloom and gape for him, both soft and obscene. The constant excitement of anticipation. His mouth on your nipples only served to turn it up to an inferno, turning you to liquid for him. 

“But I like when you touch me.” You scratch at his scalp, pressing his face into your skin, “I like it when you fuck me, you make it so good, much better than anyone else.” You flatter him, but you don’t lie to him. You’ve learned to be impartial to your experiences, sex is work. As fun as it can be with some of them, it’s all a means to an end, you need to eat and so you do what you have to do. You are also realistic about him, he is not your boyfriend, he’s not your partner, he barely gives you a second glance on the street but in here, he’s your favourite. He fits you better than anyone and anything, and as much as you hate to admit it, you need him as much as he needs you.

He takes in the words, believes them and relishes them. 

“How do you want me, Joel?” You pull his face up, bending down to kiss him before he can answer and his desperation comes through. His tongue is insistent, his kiss almost violent. 

“I want you here-“ he pats the bed, before getting up to take his clothes off. You help him, both of you working efficiently until he’s as naked as you are. His cock is already hard, the tip of him pearly with his own want despite any and all notions of impropriety. 

His body always betrays him. 

He gets you on your back, but he doesn’t lay on top of you, rather beside you. He doesn’t let you turn to face him, he wants it like this, his body curling around yours to be able to see it spread out for him without himself in the way. 

“Open up for me, s’good, just like that.” He takes the thigh closest to him and drapes it over his hip, positioning himself to enter you from underneath. He lifts his head, showcasing his core strength to watch as he brings his cock to the open mouth of your cunt, sliding in without so much as a warning. You feel exposed, spread open and bare under his eye and it only heightens the experience, cracking something open inside of you. 

His hips push and pull slowly, lazily at first despite how fucking hard he is but doesn’t last. The sight in front of you there, breasts bouncing with every snap, is too much for him. With one hand free, he strums and plucks at your nipples, opening up the dam between your thighs to ruin the quilt underneath. 

His other hand isn’t idle though, it slips down, grabbing onto the plush of your ass, holding you in place hard enough to bruise. 

“That feel good?” He watches you leak all over him, and knows it does but he wants to hear it anyway. 

“Yes- Yes Joel–” You moan, turning to watch his face. 

“This little cunt goin' to come for me? I wanna see her come, I wanna feel her choke my dick.” He surges forward, swallowing the moan from the source before speeding up. His cock strokes, strokes, strokes and you feel the warmth blooming in your core, spreading like a wildfire through your hips, the release so close you can almost taste it, you whine and he shushes you, his voice soft despite how depraved you feel with his cock kissing something sacred inside of you. 

You roll your hips to meet his thrusts and sweat builds in your hairline and at the back of your neck, collects and slips where your skin and his meet.

“I know baby, I know, I can feel her, she wants to come doesn’t she?” His lips press against your cheek, his words warm against your skin. His lips are so soft, so plush as he pants into your face, goosebumps cover your body. You nod against him, mouth open in a silent scream when he adjusts his angle slightly. 

He’s no longer able to form complete sentences, his words are reduced to a repeated chant of yeah baby, yeah baby, right there, right there huh? Barely formed questions for the answer you know he already knows and then his fingers are in your mouth, stretching out your lips, holding your mouth open in a filthy, yet pale imitation of what his cock is doing.

You drool, and you don’t care but it’s what he wants, he takes it from your mouth and slides it over your clit and it’s like he’s pressed the nuclear codes in your body. 

You want to curl into yourself, but you can’t, his grip tightens, painfully, holding you to take and take and take his cock until he bursts inside you like a ripe berry. His groan is almost more obscene than the act, his groin pressed up against you tight, pressing himself deeper than ever to paint your cervix in his come. 

“Fuck–” He presses the word to your cheek, sliding his sweat soaked face down your neck, to your shoulder. He pulls out after a moment, and you feel him leak out of you. He moves to hover over you, pulling one nipple into his mouth to taste before the blood has cooled, and then the other. He isn;t done yet though, he kneels between your spread legs, inspecting the mess he’s made of your pussy, a self satisfied look on his face. 

“Gonna dream about this, while I’m gone.” He lifts your legs, pressing them up and open and slips two fingers deep inside to push his come back in and as you moan at the act, you cannot help but wonder where that worried, too-old Joel is right now. 

“Prettiest little cunt.” He says it to himself, rubbing his mess into the sensitive walls of your sex like a balm. 

He licks his fingers after, tasting the combined flavours of both of you. Your heart almost can’t take it. 

Once he’s dressed, and you have gained enough strength to get up and put your robe on he’s almost back to his shy self. 

“I have the rations here, but I brought somethin’ else.” He gestures to the little bundle he’d left on your dresser, “I found it, thought you might like it.” He opens it, and it’s a can of peaches. 

“Oh!” You’re genuinely taken aback. 

“You ain’t allergic right?” He frowns, and you smile, something soft spreading through your chest that has nothing to do with the sex you just had.

“No, I’m not allergic. Thank you Joel, I am really excited for this.” You ignore the soreness between your legs and close the gap between you, pressing a soft kiss to his lips in thanks. 

“Well alright then.” He frowns again, and it’s not shyness you see on his face now, it’s awkwardness, it’s a man who doesn’t know how to be soft, but is trying his hardest. 

“Bye Pretty.” He lingers at the door, devouring you with his eyes and even though he was still dripping out of you, you felt naked and exposed, open and spread out for his gaze. 

“Bye Joel, don’t wait too long to come see me again okay?” You press yourself against him, the soft lines of you tucked tight against the hard angles of him. He gifts you with a rare smile but doesn’t respond, save for a toe curling kiss at your threshold before he’s gone. 

Hours later, when your body is truly sore and spent, you lay in bed with a book, eating the peaches he brought, and wonder idly what he’ll bring next time. 

-

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[barefoothighlander]

Protective Ghost perhaps ?

Love me a protective hulk of a man and clapping my cheeks like a mad man 🫣

scary boyfriend privileges for real

warnings: mdni (18+), unwanted male attention, insinuation of assault, smut, unprotected pinv, est relationship, masturbation (fem), fingering, creampie, rough sex, dirty talk, slight breeding kink, lil bit of choking, possessive!ghost, rank kink if u squint

"Hey, where are you?"

"Just at the house, Is everything alright love?" He can sense the panic in your voice through the phone,

"Everything's fine just, do you think you'd be able to pick me up?"

"Be there in 10"

He ends the call, leaving you to listen to the echoes of strangers in the streets, standing alone outside your office building, you didn't intend on working late but something had come up and you told Simon that you'd just walk home after work, it was only a few blocks to your shared flat.

At first, he blatantly refused the idea, arguing that he'd just pick you up even if it meant waiting around for a few hours when he already had plans, you argued back stating that it wouldn't be dark considering the sun wouldn't set till later, and the walk was short. Eventually, he gave in, agreeing to your terms of having your location on during your walk and keeping a finger on the pepper spray he had placed in your purse.

Everything was going fine until you actually stepped out of the office, ignorant to the fact that there was a football match that night, and the pubs would be littered with drunk patrons, shouting from every street corner. The echoes of their voices made you nervous, the fact that you didn't have your scary boyfriend to protect you made it worse, a small panic setting into your nerves as you picked at your nails.

You move to the curb to watch for his truck, eyes glazing over every pair of headlights that made their way down the street, tapping your foot in an effort to ease yourself.

"OI"

You turn your attention to the shout,

"Yea you, whatcha doin all alone out here love?" A man standing a few feet away begins walking towards you, even from the distance you can smell the alcohol on him, turning away to ignore him.

"Ah c'mon then, just tryna have a chat"

"M'not interested, sorry"

"Inna chat? Don't worry I won't bite"

You take a few steps back as the man gets closer, invading your space as he continues to speak,

"Don't have to be a priss, just wondering why a pretty lil thing like you s'all alone"

"I'm waiting for someone" You nervously dart your eyes around, willing Simon to appear,

He stumbles closer "You gotta boyfriend?"

"Yep" You cross your arms over your chest, walking backwards as the man continues to get closer

"Bet I'd treat ya better, wouldn't let you walk around all alone" He drags out the last word, staring directly at you,

"You know, I'm just gonna walk, have a good night" You turn to walk down the street, moving at a rushed pace,

"I'll walk you home" He moves in tandem with you

"No that's alright, I'll manage"

Your body freezes as his hand makes contact with your arm, tugging you back a step as he grips the skin, "Why've you got to be such a bitch?"

You try to pull your arm from his hold, "Excuse me?"

"Just tryna be nice"

"You're hurting me" Your body is in full panic, your mind racing as the man's stare pins you down, his grip firing you backwards until your back collides with the wall.

"You know it'd be a lot easier if you played along"

His words make your chest feel hollow, your eyes moving to avoid his gaze before they land on a pair of headlights in front of you, the slam of a car door breaking your focus as you let out a sigh at the sight of your boyfriend moving towards you.

In a flash the man is off you, Simon's grip around his collar as he pins him to the wall, the back of his head hitting against the stone as you gasp.

"Si-"

"Get the fuck out of here"

The stranger's eyes widen at the sight of the masked man, Simon's large form dwarfing his as his arm holds his shirt tight around his neck, Simon releases him, the man gasping for air, sparing you a final look before rushing down the street.

"I'm sorry I-"

He cuts you off, "Get in the car"

You spend the short ride home in silence, not even bothering to turn the radio on, the tension in the air palpable as you let yourself out of the truck, following behind Simon as he makes his way into the house.

You flinch as he slams the door behind him,

"M'not mad at you" His voice comes from behind you

"I know"

You watch as he storms toward the bedroom in a fury, his fists clenched as he breezes by you. following him through the room. Your eyes are glued to him as he sits in a chair, alone in the corner facing the bed, his legs spread as his hands settle on the arms of the seat.

"Take your clothes off"

You do as he says, nervous fingers working to remove your shirt before reaching for the belt on your pants, tugging them down your legs,

"All your clothes"

You stand naked before him, his eyes roaming over your form, his stare making goosebumps rise on your skin,

"Get on the bed"

You sit on the edge of the mattress, shuffling your body backwards as you rest against your arms,

"I want you to touch yourself, and keep your eyes on me"

Your throat dries at his words, your eyes looking for some sign of sympathy but there's nothing behind the mask, doing as you're told you snake a hand down your torso, settling your fingers against your clit, cursing yourself at how wet you already were.

You work your fingers around the bud, keeping your gaze locked on him as pleasure blossoms in your chest, your heels digging into the sheets as you find a rhythm.

He doesn't say anything but you can see the strain on his knuckles as he grips the armrests of the chair, his pants growing tighter with every moan that falls from your lips. You're teetering on the edge but it's not enough,

"Simon, please,"

"Your fingers not enough?"

You shake your head, "Need you"

"Need me to what?"

"Need you to fuck me, please"

He wastes no time in standing from the chair, practically tearing his pants down before his hands grip your waist, flipping you with ease so that your chest presses against the mattress, your cheek digging into the sheets as he presses his length against you.

He groans at the feeling of your weeping pussy against his length, his palms spreading you so he can get a better view,

“So fucking perfect, you gonna be good for me?”

You wriggle your hips for him, “Yes, all for you”

“Good girl” He drags his palm along the length of your spine, settling his fingers around the nape of your neck as he lines himself up, teasing his head through your folds, collecting your slick before inserting himself.

He bottoms out with a grunt, his pubic bone pressing against your ass as he leans over your form, caging you and forcing you to take every inch of him. You whimper below him, begging him to move as he holds himself still inside you.

He pulls himself nearly all the way out before thrusting back in, forcing a yelp from you as he begins pumping into your pussy, your slick gathering around his shaft as his cock splits you open.

“So fuckin tight love”

His fingers dig into your waist with a bruising grip, holding you still as he thrusts into you, you can feel the coil inside you still burning but it’s still not enough,

“Si, please, need more”

His hand reaches around your neck, pulling you from the bed so your back is flush with his chest, his fingers teasing on your pulse point. He snakes his other hand around to toy with your clit, you clench down on him as he makes contact, his rough fingers circling the bud.

“Can’t cum unless it’s me huh?”

You shake your head, your eyes squeezed shut,

“Tell me, who does this pussy belong to?”

“You Si, fuck”

“Not good enough” His hand constricts around your throat

You struggle to find your words, his cock driving into you from below, “It’s yours Lieutenant, only yours”

“Much better” His hand releases your throat allowing you to gasp for air in between your moans, your orgasm threatening to erupt from inside you.

His hands knead at your breasts, teasing and pinching the raised buds as his fingers work in tandem with his strokes, you reach behind you to touch him, to grab anything to ground yourself , your fingers settling on the hem of his mask.

“That’s it love, soak my cock, show me how good I make you feel”

Your skin feels like it’s on fire as all your muscles tense, Ghosts moans fill your ears as your pussy clenches down on him, his hips stuttering for a moment as he fucks you through your high.

When he feels you come down he pulls himself out, groaning at the loss of contact as his hands find their way back to your waist, flipping you onto your back and slotting himself between your legs.

You wrap your limbs around him, holding him to you as he pushes deep inside you, his face is inches from yours, his eyes glued to where you meet.

“Gonna fill this fucking pussy, maybe i’ll fuck a baby into you, s’that what you want? Want everyone to see your stomach grow with my fuckin seed? Let them know who you belong to?”

His gaze turns to you, his dark eyes staring back at you, you struggle to form a response, your hand moving to tug at the hem of his mask as your hooded eyes watch him. Like he’s reading your mind he tears the mask off in seconds, revealing his face to you, his rosy cheeks and plump lips, the way his jaw clenches with every thrust.

“I’m yours, only yours”

His lips crash into yours, swallowing your moans as he kisses you, rough and messy as your arms snake around his neck, holding him to you.

He pulls back, his forehead resting on yours, “Fuck, squeezing me so tight beautiful”

“Cum in me Si, need to feel you”

He watches your eyes fill with lust, your soaking pussy swallowing him as he bottoms out, your heels dig into his back as he spills his seed into you, coating your walls.

“Fuckin hell” He holds himself inside you as he finishes, his softening cock holding his cum deep in your pussy as he leans in for another kiss, it’s more tender this time.

He pulls out of you slowly, pushing up the bed and lying back as his arms tug you to him, your legs tangling with him as your hands find their spot on his chest.

“M’sorry”

His fingers thread through your hair, “S’not your fault love”

“I know I just feel stupid”

“You’re not stupid, you shouldn’t have to deal with shit like that”

You give a small hun in response,

“I would’ve killed him”

“I know”

“Like terrible, awful, excruciating pain kinda murder”

You huff a small laugh in response, knowing that he was deadly serious as you push yourself from his side, your palms nudging him over,

“C’mon go get dressed for bed”

[cedarmoonzz]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request a small continuing to your Ford fic? I really enjoyed it and tugged my heart strings. I love you work so much and if your able to do that without any issue, I'd love that!😭💜

yes! i love that six fingered cartoon dilf with every fiber of my being!

once more to see you •｡ꪆৎ ˚

continuation of: between the bars followed by: slow like honey

fandom: gravity falls

ship: ford x reader

content: angst, stanford's poor attempt at comfort lol

summary: when your fiancé’s episodes of paranoia spiral out of control, you come to a difficult realization.

You’ve always seen yourself as someone grounded in logic. Pragmatic to the bone, you’ve relied on reason and science to navigate life, finding comfort in facts and the concrete reality they bring. But lately, that sense of security has started to unravel. 

The cabin was frigid, its icy air wrapping around you like a shroud, seeping into your very bones despite your efforts to ward off the chill. The socks you wore—a secret purchase made without Stanford’s knowledge—offered little warmth, though they  greatly softened the sound of your steps as you quietly drifted from the bedroom to the kitchen, then to the closet, nursing your third cup of coffee that night. Each breath you took was quick, shallow, as if the cold air was stealing it away. As you finally settled at the desolate kitchen table, a wry thought flickered in your mind: could the layers of plywood and fiberglass beneath you truly muffle the frantic beating of your heart, hiding it from your fiancé’s ever-watchful ear? In your own, the rhythm pounded, echoing like a circle of drums, impossibly loud in the oppressive stillness of the cabin.

Stanford’s paranoia didn’t burst into your lives all at once; it crept in quietly, almost imperceptibly, like a shadow growing longer at dusk. It all began when he developed a peculiar fascination with triangles—a simple, geometric shape that, in his hands, took on a life of its own. He transformed the cabin, once a place of warmth and refuge, into a gallery of trigonometric stained glass, each piece more elaborate, more intricate than the last. At first, you found it endearing, even charming, and you laughed it off as just another of his harmless quirks. You told yourself it was just Stanford being Stanford, his brilliant mind forever chasing new ideas.

But as the days turned into weeks, the triangles began to multiply. Their sharp, precise edges cast strange, fragmented light across your home, turning familiar spaces into something alien, almost unrecognizable. You began to notice how the once-welcoming cabin now felt distorted, its atmosphere thick with an unspoken tension. And yet, you didn’t see it for what it was—not at first. You didn’t want to see it. You told yourself it was just the glass, just the way the light hit it, just the way Stanford was channeling his creativity. You ignored the way your stomach twisted with unease, dismissed the creeping dread that settled in your bones.

You shook your head, trying to banish the haunting thoughts that swirled in your mind. There was no time to dwell on what had already happened; what mattered now was moving forward. Rising from your seat, you made your way to the bedroom you and Ford once shared, a space now overshadowed by his office chair, which had become his sanctuary. You reached into the closet, your fingers brushing against the familiar fabric of your thick army jacket. The worn texture offered a rare comfort, a tangible reminder of a time before everything had shifted. As you fumbled through the pockets, your hand closed around a pack of cigarettes—an old habit you had left behind during your second year of graduate school. A fleeting wave of nostalgia washed over you, mingled with regret for the time lost. You slipped the pack back into your pocket and donned the jacket, its sturdy fabric promising some semblance of protection against the biting night winds and the snow that still whirled outside the closed window.

Your gaze then fell upon your boots, left carelessly on the closet floor, caked in mud from past forest excursions with Stanford. You reached down, lifting them with a mixture of sentiment and practicality. With the boots in hand, you carefully descended the stairs, each step deliberate to avoid the creaking floorboards. At the kitchen door, you set the boots down and slipped them on, their familiar weight grounding you in the present. Quietly, you opened the door, the chill of the night air meeting you as you stepped into the darkness, ready to face whatever lay beyond.

You stood on the porch of your home, clad in baggy sweatpants, an oversized coat, and your old brown army boots. The cold night air wrapped around you, but the weight of the familiar clothing offered a small measure of comfort. You instinctively reached into your pocket, a gesture that felt oddly nostalgic, like reconnecting with a part of yourself that had been missing. Pulling out a cigarette, you brought it to your lips, and then you fumbled into your other pocket, searching for a long-abandoned lighter. Your fingers brushed against the cold metal as you hoped to find one still with fluid.

After a moment of fishing, you finally found it. With a deep breath, you shut your eyes, the cigarette resting between your fingers as you brought the lighter to your face. The small flame flickered to life, illuminating your face in the darkness as you lit your former vice. You’d given up smoking years ago, recognizing it as a bad coping mechanism, though it had always managed to calm your nerves better than any of the so-called remedies Stanford had suggested—yoga, green tea, or otherwise. Stanford had never missed an opportunity to chide you about it, yet in moments like these, when the world felt overwhelming and uncertain, the familiar warmth of the smoke provided a fleeting solace, a small rebellion against the chaos of your thoughts.

You couldn’t shake the image of your fiancé from your mind. The one person you had always relied on as your rock, your steadfast partner in all things logical and real, now seemed a stranger. He had become obsessed, shining a flashlight into your eyes, searching for something hidden in the depths of your pupils. Each time that harsh beam flickers across your eyes, it chips away at your sense of reality, leaving you to wonder if his strange behavior is a sign of something far darker lurking beneath the surface. The familiar comfort of the cigarette seemed almost to mock the confusion and dread that now defined your days, as if trying to find stability in a world that had become increasingly alien.

“[Y/n].” Ford’s voice sliced through your reverie, its suddenness filling you with an indescribable anxiety. The feeling was sharp and unsettling, a gnawing presence that you couldn't quite classify as rational or otherwise. It wrapped around you like a cold fog, clouding your thoughts and intensifying the sense of disorientation that had already taken root.

He stood behind you in the doorway, the light from behind casting a soft, almost ethereal glow around him. From this angle, you might have thought he looked perfect, a vision of calm and composure that seemed untouched by the chaos of your shared reality. The gentle halo of light made him appear almost otherworldly, a serene figure caught in a moment of stillness.

Yet, his appearance betrayed a different story. His hair was frantic and messy, a wild tangle of curls that seemed to reflect his inner turmoil. The bags under his eyes had deepened, etched by sleepless nights and relentless stress. Despite the disarray, there was a softness in his gaze, a look of tenderness you had missed with all your heart. It was a fleeting reminder of the warmth and affection that once defined your relationship, now overshadowed by the encroaching distance and disquiet that had come to dominate your lives.

You had tried so damn hard to stay quiet, to remain out of his way. You'd let him overwork himself to the bone if that’s what he wanted, even though it felt like a slow erosion of everything you once knew. You’d had the argument too many times to care by now, the words always seeming to fall on deaf ears. All you wanted was to avoid the inevitable confrontation, to give him space, even as his obsessive behavior grew ever more unsettling. 

"Stanford," was all you said in response, your voice barely more than a whisper. You lifted the cigarette from your lips, the smoke pooling around you like a hazy veil. As you exhaled, you cast a glance up the staircase, the familiar sight offering no answers, only a silent reminder of the space between you both.

“You’ve started smoking again,” he observed, his tone carrying a note of quiet surprise. The statement lingered in the air, the drifting smoke accentuating the distance between you. It was as if the sight of the cigarette in your hand was a reflection of the changes he could no longer ignore.

“Didn’t think you’d notice.”

The cigarette met your lips once more. You took a long drag, the smoke filling your lungs as your eyes remained locked with his. In that moment, it felt as if time itself had frozen, leaving you both suspended in the delicate space between old familiarity and the evolving distance that now defined your relationship.

“Of course I would,” he said, his voice carrying a soft tinge of regret.

You dropped the cigarette into the snow, watching as it hissed and sizzled against the cold ground. With a decisive step, you crushed it underfoot, pressing it into the snow for good measure. The smoldering embers were quickly extinguished, leaving only a faint trace of smoke lingering in the frosty air.

“Sorry,” was all you could manage to utter, the word feeling woefully inadequate in the weight of the moment. It hung between you, a simple apology for the complexities that neither of you could fully address.

“It’s cold. You’ll catch your death out here,” he muttered, his voice laced with a blend of concern and weariness. He stepped aside from the doorway, making way for you with a gentle gesture. The warmth from inside seemed to beckon, a stark contrast to the frigid night air.

You looked into his eyes, and he stared back, the moment stretching between you as if everything else had come to a halt. The world outside faded into a blur as snapshots of your relationship flickered through your mind—moments of laughter, shared dreams, and fleeting happiness. With each memory, you found yourself questioning what had gone wrong, what could have been different, and what measures you might have taken to alter the course of events.

In the midst of that frozen silence, a question slipped from your lips before you could even stop yourself: “Ford, are you still in love with me?” The words hung in the air, unexpected and raw, their weight adding a new layer of complexity to the already tense moment.

His head snapped towards you, eyes widening with a shock that seemed to crystallize in the cold night air. His gaze pierced into yours with a fierce intensity, as if your question had struck a chord deep within him. His eyebrows knit together in a furrow of confusion and apprehension, while his mouth tightened into a thin, resolute line. The change in his demeanor was palpable; his posture straightened as though he were bracing himself for a storm.

With a determined stride, he marched to stand beside you in the snow, the door to the house slamming shut behind him with a resonant thud that echoed through the night. The two of you stood together, the moonlight casting a ghostly glow upon the snow, which reflected a bluish light that danced across the scene. The snow-covered ground sparkled faintly, but the surrounding darkness clung to you both like a shroud.

He stared down at you as you stared at your feet, standing only an arm's length away, the proximity intimate and charged. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The only sound was the soft shushing of dormant branches swaying in the wind, their gentle rustling mingling with the quiet stillness of the night. The cold air wrapped around you both, creating a palpable silence that stretched between you, broken only by the occasional whisper of the wind through the snow-laden trees.

His hand reached out, fingers closing gently around your chin. With a deliberate motion, he angled your gaze upward, drawing your eyes away from the snowy expanse at your feet and into his. The touch was firm yet tender, guiding your focus to the depth of his own eyes. It was just like he used to do moments before he pressed his lips against yours.

Your eyes met his, and in that brief, suspended moment, you saw the glistening, unshed tears pooling in his gaze. They shimmered in pale light of the moon, their potential to fall betraying the fragile veneer of his composure. The raw, unguarded emotion in his eyes was a stark contrast to his usual facade, revealing a depth of sorrow and vulnerability that seemed to unravel the very essence of his being.

“Don’t you ever ask that again,” his voice cracked, the words trembling as they escaped his lips. He leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours, the closeness both intimate and overwhelming. In that tender contact, you felt a deep ache, missing his touch more than you had admitted to yourself. The warmth of his skin against yours, the vulnerability that he seldom showed, was a poignant reminder of what you had longed for but also feared.

Your breath caught in your throat, the tightness nearly choking you as emotions surged within, rendering you on the brink of tears. Frustration twisted inside you, mingling with a deep-seated ache as you grappled with having surrendered so effortlessly to the solace of his presence. The warmth of Ford’s touch, so familiar and comforting, had shattered your defenses with an almost unbearable intimacy.

In that raw, exposed moment, you recognized a profound truth: you loved Ford with a depth that went beyond reason. You understood him completely, and you would remain steadfast by his side. Even if it meant losing yourself in the process, he would always draw you in. It was a certainty you could not escape.

[mossyivy]

how about a desperate almost ex-husband leon being extremely needy and trying to get his wife back not to divorce him

Anon, idk who you are but you better become a regular if these are the ideas you throw into my ask box. I took liberty in picking which Leon would best fit and I just... It's Vendetta. I'm sorry, wet street rat Leon just stinks of desperation and in need of attention.

Also I am so sorry this took ages to get to you. I've been on break and was going through it. Hopefully it was worth the wait 🤍

Slight NSFW/Alluding to Sex

Not edited/Proof Read

"Please baby, I miss you..." You listen to the last few garbled words from the old voicemail. You hadn't seen or heard from him in a month. No calls, texts, letters or even the occasional flowers or muffin basket he'd have delivered to your office.

You know you shouldn't miss him. The divorce was for a good reason. Or at least it was supposed to be. You still loved him, he still loved you, but his absence was getting to you. You knew who you were marrying, a government agent who wasn't home as often as he wanted to be. You were left to your own devices often. Left with friends. Friends who talked. Talked about how neglectful he seemed to be. You defended him with your life, knowing the good man he was and still is. They picked him apart in secret, threw his flaws out for display like some kind of rotting carcass you'd see on the side of the road.

But eventually they got into your head about deserving better. So, against all the arguing or begging on his end you asked for a divorce and filed. That was a few months ago. He's not even officially moved out of the apartment you two share yet but you're adamant on being separated.

He on the other hand is trying to hold on for as long as possible. At least you thought he was. He left for work over a month ago and you knew he was back. No state marshall or sheriff showed up to tell you he died.

Maybe he was trying to respect your distance and keep away finally. But then Jill sent you the E-vite...

One of the worst parts of divorcing Leon was you having the same friends. You were both civil. No one took anyone's side so you'd both be invited places, even after the separation. You take in a deep breath, knowing he'd definitely be at this dinner party. It was going to be a struggle but you're a big girl. You can handle anything.

Sucking it up, you step out of your car, fixing your dress in place as you look up at the condominium. Seeing the lights on the shared rooftop space gleaming against the dusk sky. It didn't take long for you to push the door open at the top of the stairs seeing everyone dressed in semi-formal attire. Long puffy sleeves swaying as you pull at the gold locket hanging above the sweetheart neckline. The end of you dress puffing out and brushing lightly against your opaque black pantyhose covered knees. Heels clicking against the concrete of the roof as someone calls out to you.

"Hey! Glad you could make it." Claire, one of the hosts, walks out a small group of people in her dark pink dress. She wraps you in a tight hug looking you up and down.

"Thanks for inviting me!" You look around the crowds of people trying to decipher who's here.

"Last time I saw him was with Chris like half an hour ago. He showed up early." Claire knew who you were looking for. You give her an appreciative nod and tell her you'll be doing your rounds to be polite.

After grabbing a glass of wine you start making your rounds. Feet starting to hurt from your heels, they always killed your ankles. Stepping to the side you bump into another guest and spill red wine on yourself. Turning you see Rebecca with her mouth open, shocked expression on her face, clutching the front of her green dress.

"I'm so sorry," she frantically steps over, examining the blotch of dark red on your dress, "Jill and Claire probably have soda water at their place. Why don't you go ask?"

You quickly find Claire, desperate to not let this stain stick.

"Just head down to the condo. Jill's down there babysitting dinner. It should be done soon actually." You nod, heading down to the condo quickly. Knocking on the door you hear loud footsteps coming towards the door. The door swings open, Chris looking down at you in his charcoal gray suit.

"Oh hey. You finally showed." You smirk, smacking his shoulder before going in for a tight hug. Squeezing you in his arms he lifts you, pulling you through the threshold of the condo. The door shuts as he walks towards the kitchen, setting you down in the doorway. Jill turning her head from the stove. Wearing a dark blue pantsuit.

"Hey!" Dropping the wooden spoon onto the stove she walks over, hugging you tightly. She looks down at your dress noticing the wine spot. "Oh God. It looks like you were shot."

"Red wine and Rebecca."

"Ah. Let me get you something for that."

Jill starts searching the cabinets as Chris leans against the kitchen island, arms crossed over his chest.

"How've you been with... Everything?" Chris grabs his beer off the counter, taking a leisurely sip. Watching Jill out of the corner of his eye.

"I can't complain."

"Yeah you can. You're getting a divorce. Can't be easy."

"Chris." Jill shoots him a nasty glare, standing up straight with a bottle of soda water and a cloth.

"What!? I can't be blunt with her now?" Jill sighs, sliding the stuff across the island to you, watching you grab them.

"You can use the guest bathroom. Our main one is being worked on. It's down the hall to the right. Dinners done so just head upstairs when you're ready."

"Thanks." You nod, walking past them both and down the hall and into the guest room. You don't flick the light on, walking through the moonlight cover room to the door and push your way in. Starting to work on the stain on your dress after. Blotting the wine out slowly, taking your time to draw it out. Working the wine out you look at yourself in the mirror.

Tired eyes covered by concealing makeup and a fake sense of happiness. You really haven't slept well in weeks, since the filing. It was weird going back home alone. A knock startles you out of your staring. You quickly access the damage, deeming your work satisfactory enough. Opening the door you're met with dark circles under icy blue eyes. Stubble surrounding plump rosy lips as he gasps.

Now face to face with your soon-to-be ex-husband.

"Hey..."

"Hey." You two stare at each other for a moment, no one knowing what to say exactly. So you start cleaning up and rinsing the rag.

"I'll be out of your way in a second."

"Take your time." He assures, putting a hand on your lower back as he passes you and steps to the towel cabinet, sliding one of the drawers open and looking for something. You continue to rinse the rag, watching him in your peripherals as he searches. Wearing his old dark blue suit and a white button up open enough to show off his collar bones.

The silence is so awkward you could feel your toes curling in your heels.

"You look good." He speaks looking at you, you shut the sink off looking in his direction with a small smile.

"Thank you." you look him up and down. Taking in the appearance of him being dressed up for once. You always liked him cleaned up. "You look like a nightclub owner."

He chuckles, smiling as he grabs a box of bandaids from the drawer, shutting it with his hip as he starts reaching inside the box.

"You hurt yourself?" The old tinge of worry hits you as he starts walking towards you, presumably leaving.

"Just a little cut. Tried to catch a knife and it didn't work out." He shows his left palm, a cut along the side of his thumb, still bleeding.

"Jesus Lee..." You turn the sink back on and make him shove his hand under the cold water to slow the bleeding. You start washing the blotch of blood already dried on his palm as he just lets you. You're delicate hands scrubbing the shell shaped soap across his paler palm compared to the slight tan of his skin. You feel his right arm move and slide around you, hand on your waist like it's still so natural as he fixes to your side.

You stare at his hand, watching the bleeding slow as you rinse his palm. But you finally notice he's wearing his wedding ring still. The black band that matches yours sitting at home in your jewelry box, collecting dust when it could be getting pawned like your friends suggested. But you've grown attached to it, even if it is a constant reminder of what was. You shake the feeling, turning the faucet off and grabbing the hand towel to dry the area.

"You know, I can do this myself right?" You look up at your reflections in the mirror, it's almost like he's watching you over your shoulder with how close he is. His eyes watching your every action so lovingly. It makes you smile and forget that you shouldn't be feeling butterflies in your stomach right now.

"You never do it right." You tease, feeling his chest press against your shoulder and back. Notes of citrus and buttery sandalwood touch your nose. Making his noticeable lean over your shoulder almost forgiveable as you apply the bandage on his hand. You feel his nose brush against your ear as you throw the wrappers in the tiny trashcan next to the sink.

"Leon... No." His hand squeezed gently as it moves down to your hip, he takes a slow breath in. Letting the scent of your perfume and shampoo fill his senses completely.

"I miss you..." His voice is so soft, his breath against your ear makes a bolt of electricity shoot up your spine and your skin tingle. Goosebumps forming over your arms as you side step away from him. Looking at him again, his eyes look filled with desperation as he tries closing the gap again.

"I've been thinking about you nonstop for the past month." You paw at the bathroom doorknob, opening the door and slipping into the guest bedroom. He quickly follows you into the dim lighting.

"I'm seeing a therapist now." You glance at him, turning away as you try making a break for it.

"Good for you." You misjudge your step and smack your foot against the table next to the door, twisting your ankle in the process. Immediately, you hunch over to grab your ankle and whine in pain.

"Baby..." He leans down looking at your ankle as it starts to swell already. "Come here."

Quickly you're lifted off your feet and being carried over to the bed, reminiscent of your wedding night. Leon sits, putting your legs over his lap.

"You know these heels are bad on your ankles." His hands slight over your heel, pushing the offender off your foot and doing the same to the next. His fingers glide over your ankle making you wince and whimper. "I'm sorry... I can't really see it well with the..."

His fingers pinch against your pantyhose and pull it gently. Looking at you as if asking for permission. His hands glide up your legs, looking at you. Giving a small nods his hands go up your thighs, pulling at the waist and down your legs. Dropping them with your heels. His hands linger on your bare thighs as he stares. Gripping with the tenderness you'd forgotten about, a small huff leaves his lips before you clear your throat.

"Leon..." He snaps back to reality looking at your ankle and rubbing it. You complain again, feeling your heart beat in you leg.

"Good news, it doesn't look broken."

"No shit." He smirks looking back at you, lips turning into a sincere smile as his brows drop.

"Still as snarky as ever..." It's your turn to stare now, watching his hands wander back up your legs and wrap around your knees. Pulling you closer and wrinkle the sheets below you.

"Who would I be without my smart ass mouth?" His eyes drift halfway closed, his body almost completely pressed against your chest with his own. His arm slides around your waist with practiced ease.

"Not my wife." His words flow so naturally. Like no time has past since the separation. Being this close doesn't feel nearly as awkward as you expected it to be. His hands are as gentle as the look he's giving you. That same puppy dog stare only you seem to yank out of the rough and tough exterior.

It makes you crack a smile... A smile you definitely shouldn't be showing so easily.

"I miss you." His voice is soft again, leaning closer into you, cupping your cheek with a callused hand. "Do you miss me?"

"Yes." The answer rolls off your tongue without a second thought. The corners of his lips turning higher, smiling brighter then you've seen in a while. He doesn't waste any time pulling you into his lap, smothering you in his embrace and pulling you into a heated and hungry kiss.

Hands traveling into every available spot on your body. Finally finding his way under the skirt of your dress and pulling your hips taut against his growing desire.

"Lee... We can't right now, they're expecting us upstairs for dinner." His lips meet your neck, kissing across your pulse and to your ear. Hands gliding over your skin as he pulls back from your neck.

"Why would I go do that when I got my favorite meal right here?" You laugh, the noise sounding like music to his ears all over again. Eyes turning to that loving stare, laying you down against the plush sheets and linens.

"Plus, you hurt your ankle. You need bed rest... And maybe I could give you a real reason to limp."

[holybibly]

I don't know about you bunnies, but I can never get enough of Seonghwa. So here are the unholy thoughts of the day

You never liked noisy offices and crowds. You've always been uncomfortable with the constant hustle and bustle and toxicity of office spaces, so when your boss offered you the chance to work from home, you jumped at the chance.

The first year was great; the second year you started to worry about the complete lack of social communication; and the third year you decided you'd had enough.

No more solo activities because you decided to adopt a hybrid.

The idea of adopting a gorgeous feline or arctic fox hybrid, or maybe even a cute little puppy of some kind of small breed, was something you found incredibly appealing.

So why did you end up bringing home Hwa and Seonghwa, who were so very different from each other?

Hwa was an excitable, needy bunny with the biggest, almost starry eyes, a problem with being overly tactile, and a constant desire for attention and affection. From the moment he saw you at the adoption centre, he was all over you, everywhere you went. As bunny, he needed special care, especially sexually, but also, Hwa was too affectionate and quickly became attached, so it was no surprise that he literally melted into you, burying his pretty face in your chest and squealing happily.

Seonghwa, on the other hand, was not the most obvious choice for a pet, being a sexy, mesmerising, and calm snake hybrid. But there was something about you that warmed him up. Even though Hwa completely surrounded you with his body, Seonghwa somehow managed to get close enough to you to lick your neck with his forked tongue.

It was so hard for you to get used to both of them, especially since both of the hybrids turned out to be more than needy and clingy, even if in completely different ways.

Seonghwa loved to cuddle with you; the warmth of your soft, gentle body was an attraction and a seduction for him. In the beginning, it was all very innocent. He would cuddle up to you while you were working, while you were watching a film or reading on the couch in the living room, and even while you were sleeping. But the more time that Seonghwa spent with you, the more he began to crave a different kind of warmth from you.

It all started with his hands under your shirt and the slow, almost lazy way he ran his fingertips over your skin. Then came the touch of his sensual, plump lips on your neck and the cold, wet licks of his forked tongue. When Seonghwa realised that you wouldn't push him away, he became bolder, more insistent, and more sexy. And that's how you ended it, sitting on Seonghwa's lap while he was happily warming up his cock in your pussy. The way that your hot, wet walls wrapped themselves around his thick, long cock was almost enough to drive him crazy.

You could stay like this for hours. But Seonghwa's greed only increased, as did his possessive side and, of course, his thirst to breed.

So it did not come as a surprise to you that the sessions to warm up his cock turned into long and tiring hours of passionate, almost animalistic sex or the dirty, non-stop eating of your pussy.

As for Hwa, from the first second you found yourself at home, the gentle, super-affectionate bunny was literally inseparable from you. Unlike the calculating and calmer Seonghwa, the bunny turned into a horny, needy mess at the slightest touch, so when you found him in your bed the first night after you adopted him, with his sugary, glistening lips wrapped around your nipple, you knew what your relationship with him would be like.

Kissing, touching, licking, biting, and all that without end. He didn't care what you did; he always wanted you, and he craved you so passionately that he wasn't at all ashamed of the fact that there was always a wet spot on his trousers from his leaking dick. It just proved how much he liked you. While you had some time to relax with Seonghwa, Hwa didn't let you breathe and always demanded your attention.

Are you working on the computer? This is the perfect time to bury my face in your pussy and suck your clitor and lick your little hole like the sweetest treat. Are you taking a bath? Hwa is already at your side to finger your pussy or warm his dick while you relax in the hot water. Are you cooking? That's no reason for him to resist bending you over the kitchen counter. Like Seonghwa, Hwa had an incredible thirst for breeding. Your pussy was always full of his sperm, which flowed down your legs, upsetting the charming rabbit and, what's the strangest thing, the calm snake.

You even had to stop wearing underwear at home to protect your expensive lace from being constantly sticky and wet.

Worst of all, despite being different species, Hwa and Seonghwa got along well together and even teamed up to attack you.

When your hybrids decided to play with you at the same time, it usually ended with you riding Hwa while your rabbit hungrily sucked on your tits, looking up at you with adoring eyes, squealing with pleasure, and roughly kneading your thighs until they were covered in red, aggressive marks. Seonghwa grabbed you from behind, wrapping his hand around your throat and choking you. His cock slid in and out of you in a completely different rhythm from Hwa's thrusts. His silky, hissing voice whispered the most depraved and dirty things to you, driving you even crazier.

The contrast between the blazing cold Seonghwa and the scorching warm Hwa was so stunning and striking that it brought you to orgasm within minutes. But when the boys started playing, it only ended when they were completely satisfied with you and your stomach was swollen from the amount of sperm they had poured into you.

Usually, you couldn't walk normally after that, and your whole body was covered with hickeys, bruises, and bites. Maybe you regretted your decision to adopt Hwa and Seonghwa. Sometimes, it was quite difficult to deal with them at the same time, not only because of their different types but also because of their too-needy and demanding characters. But when you felt their loving and caring arms around you as you came to after another orgasm, you thought that maybe it was the best decision you ever made in your life.

[evilminji]

You know what I would kill to see?

Nedzu, in the Zone.

He IS a registered Hero, after all. He probably gets calls for missions. Failing that, he's still legal allowed to intervene. Like, say, if some poor four year old were losing their shit? Got separated from their mommy, their headache, which has been getting Ochier ALL DAY has finally gotten Really REALLY bad... and they... they just CAN'T! So they melt down.

Whoops. Four year old with portals.

In a crowd.

Luckily he, Mr. Principle, is a "cute" looking sort of Hero. And as an educator, well trained in de-escala-*CRASH!* Some jackass glory chasing young thing, with no care for innocent lives around them, smashes onto the scene. Terrifying the poor child. Which obviously makes their non-existent control WORSE.

Starts throwing the word "villian" around.

Nedzu is going to EAT his license in front of him.

The poor thing is hyperventilating, crying, clinging desperately to Nedzus suit. Things are being flung from portals. Sucked into portals. He's seen no less then 53 SEPERATE dimensions on the other side of those rifts. At least two were to the open void of space.

He narrowly dodges a portal straight into the heart of a volcano. Can feel the blistering heat singe his fur. Alumni from HIS school, at least, have arrived to actually SAVE people. Get the crowd away from the danger zone.

And to think, all he wanted was some tea.

How this MORON doesn't recognize him, he has no idea. His graduates are actively SHOUTING his identity, for heavens sake. Yet the glory hound continues to chase his so called "villians" at the expense of everyone around him.

He's about to throw the boy to a near by police officer, to get to safety, when the worst occurs. The tract of land he was about to push off of disappears beneath them. The boy's mother screams. He activates High Specs, world slowing as his mind rushs. Twisting, he throws the boy high.

The portal closes before he can see if it is Eraserhead or Cementoss who will be the one to catch him. The odds were 68.3% in Eraserhead's favor. He hopes... Aizawa, does so take these things quite hard, he hope he will not blame himself.

There was no way to catch him in time.

He was already gone.

Gravity arrests, slowing to a drifting meander. The air thick with something the burns his sensitive nose. Green. Everything is a very peculiar green. This is not a planets or if it is, it is countless times larger then Earth. A gas giant of some sort? There does not appear to be a horizon.

In the distance, an almost stereotypical spaceship changes destinations. Now aiming right for him. It seems aid might be on the way. With nothing better to do, he waits. They slow to a stop, a hatch opens, and... oh? A young Hero student! Hello there young man! I am Mr. Principle of the illustrious UA!

And just? Danny? Trying to return this small furry alien guy back to his alien hero school? Getting the run around and "hmmmm, let me look that uuuup *takes forever* yeeeeah, soooorry. You're in the wrong department. You'll have to fly like three days to this OTHER department, fill out 260 forms, and dance for our amusement. Byeeeee~"

Like? He just wants to get this guy HOME! Why are you all LIKE THIS!?

All while Nedzu is " :) My, this is FASCINATING. I am learning new things, battling wits, learning new languages, AND guiding a promising young mind towards a future of Better Heroics? Delightful! This is practically a vacation!"

He even stops by the Fentons for dinner. Some fudge. A little light destruction of Goverment branches on the side. Just? A Grand ol adventure of Nedzu.

Danny suffers through bureaucratic hell. But Nedzu? The most mentally stimulated he's been in years. His crops are watered and his fur is groomed. Thriving! New toys!

Then?? He just... shows back up to work.

How did he return? Where has he been?? Who is this glowing green Hero Child groaning face down on his very expensive carpet? *sips tea* wouldn't YOU like to know, weather boy! *maniacal Nedzu laughter*

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @lolottes @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @hypewinter @spidori

[boobearymuch]

A Promise

Summary: You locked yourself away in the bedroom after getting home, and when Zayne called you over for dinner, you took the plate to go. At that point, perhaps someone braver than Zayne would have followed you and finally talked it out. Zayne sat alone and ate in silence instead. Tags: Zayne/Reader, gender-neutral, fluff, light angst Word Count: 1.4k read on ao3 | masterlist

Careful tapping filled the tense silence of your apartment—accompanied by your occasional stomping to the kitchen and back—as Zayne typed away at his laptop. It was getting dark out, and it was usually around this hour when patient forms and research articles blurred into an incoherent mess. The doctor looked up from his screen, blinking away the strain in his hazel eyes, before glancing around. “Love, have you seen my glasses?” You don’t respond. Instead, he hears your heavy footfall in the next room until the bedroom door abruptly swings open. Zayne glances at you, and you impatiently present him with the article he’s looking for. Except, you’re holding them by the lens. Zayne says nothing as he accepts the smudged glasses. 

“Have fun reading.” You mutter under your breath and stomp back to the bedroom. Zayne simply stares at the dirty glasses for a moment before sighing and shutting his laptop. You’re angry. Still angry. Have been since your hospital visit this afternoon. And Zayne isn’t sure how to approach you, so—like a coward—he busied himself with work to avoid your ire. He managed to convince himself you needed space, that you would pout and cross your arms for a bit, but ultimately come around to see his side of things. That never happened. You locked yourself away in the bedroom after getting home, and when Zayne called you over for dinner, you took the plate to go. At that point, perhaps someone braver than Zayne would have followed you and finally talked it out. Zayne sat alone and ate in silence instead. 

He pinched the bridge of his noise and inhaled deeply. Right. 

The bedroom door creaked as Zayne gently pushed it open to find you scrolling away on your phone. You were resting, at least, like he suggested you did. “Have you taken your vitamins yet? I can bring you a glass of water.” His soft gaze never left you. 

You didn’t even glance up from your phone. “Why? Gonna tell Jenna if I don’t?” Well, then, there was no avoiding it now. 

Zayne stepped further into the bedroom. “No, but it would make your doctor feel better if you did.” You did glance at him this time, albeit briefly, to glare. “We should talk about this.”

Your nostrils flared at the statement. “Oh, so now you want my opinion?” 

“I’ve always valued your opinion.” Zayne sat at the opposite end of the bed now, and you groaned as you turned away from him. He’s never seen you like this. At least, not with him. Knowing he was at the root of your anger weighed painfully on his chest. It hurt to breathe, even. “But when it comes to your health, I am always going to prioritize your well-being. No matter what.”

“You went behind my back, Zayne.” Your voice was low, spine facing him, but he hung on your every word. “You just went ahead and told my captain I’d be taking the week off before you even told me.”

“I…regret that.” Zayne clasped his hands together awkwardly, “I should have let you known first. Listened to you.” When you said nothing, he let out a small breath, “But I am not letting myself regret making you take the week off.”

At this, you finally sat up to whirl around and huff at him. “That wasn’t your choice to make. It was mine. My choice.”

Zayne met your heated gaze with an intensity of his own. “You walked into my office half-dead and bleeding—”

“I was not half-dead, it was a concussion!”

“Well, you scared me half to death. How could I, in good conscience, just let you return to work like that?” Your mouth opened, then closed. Did you have any idea how terrified he was? “When I saw you,” Zayne paused to swallow around nothing, “My first thought was, how many more times will I have to see you like that?” His brow furrowed, and those green eyes desperately darted to the bandage on your forehead.

“It’s part of the job.” Your voice held no bite to it. Instead, you watched him as closely as he watched you now, “You know that.”

“I know that.” He repeated, “I know.” His jaw clenched, and his voice came out smaller than he expected it to, “...And what if you don’t make it to the hospital next time?” You inhaled sharply and looked away now, head dropping to distract yourself with Zayne’s bedding. “You constantly throw yourself into harm’s way, again and again, with little regard to your heart condition. Can you blame me for taking matters into my own hands?” He watched the fabric of his comforter scrunch underneath his fist. 

You seemed considerably calmer now and managed a glance at him. “...I really worried you today, didn’t I?”

“I am always worried. More than I’d like to admit.” He added softly.

The moment hung in the air for several seconds. “You could have just told me that from the beginning, you know.” You mumbled—face burning—and Zayne finally looked up, “I know I tend to ignore your medical advice, but if I had known how you were really feeling, I would have listened to you. Anything to reassure you.”

Zayne knew that already. He knew, deep down, you might agree to taking time off. But his heart reacted before his mind did; he feared the worst. If only he were better at expressing himself, this entire conversation could have been avoided. Guilt sank his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

The bed dipped, and you were suddenly mere inches from him. He said nothing as you grabbed his hand and laid his palm flat against your clothes. Over your heart. “Do you feel that?” You whispered, eyes searching his. Zayne’s breath hitched in his throat; the gentle drum of your heart beat faster than usual, “It’s still beating, thanks to you.” Your fingers curled around his, and Zayne took the moment to ground himself. You were so warm, so alive. You were okay. “I will always make it home to you, Zayne,” Your other hand gently thumbed his cheek, “I promised my doctor I would, after all.” 

He averted his gaze, embarrassed, as a breathy chuckle left him. Zayne felt ridiculous. You were the one with a concussion, yet here you were comforting him. “Can you make another promise? To just me?”

You perked up, clearly in a better mood now, “Anything.”

He brought your hands together to clasp them in his larger ones, “Promise me,” Then he brought them to his lips, “you’ll remember I’m always here for you.”

The kiss he placed on your knuckles brought the first smile to your lips all day. “What a sap.” You murmured timidly, and averted your eyes from Zayne’s. But he didn’t relent; this was the closest you’ve both been since your argument began this afternoon. You had no idea how sorely he itched to be at your side, to be within arm’s reach of whatever you could possibly want or need. Now that the matter was settled, he had no intention of letting you slip away. 

“Rest now,” And he kissed your hands again just because he could, “I’ll grab your vitamins and make tea.” He reluctantly pulled away to do just that—and completely missed the impish glint in your eye. Before Zayne could fully stand, a swift pair of arms wrapped themselves around his neck and tugged. A grunt of surprise left him as he fell forward and braced himself just in time to avoid crushing you. Wide eyes met your twinkling gaze, and you had the audacity to laugh at his expression. “Your concussion—”

“Don’t leave me, Dr. Zayne!” You wailed dramatically, “The only vitamin I need right now is vitamin you.”

“Stop.” His ears burned hot with embarrassment before you even finished your sentence. You’ve used that line before, every time he offered you vitamins, in fact. He should’ve seen it coming, honestly.

“And why should I? You’re too easy to tease,” You laughed to yourself and brushed disheveled bangs out of his flustered eyes. Then your gaze softened, “Come here?”

Zayne hesitated. “I shouldn’t. You need to rest properly.” But your arms only tugged at his shoulders impatiently.

“I can’t rest properly unless you come closer.” Zayne sighed, but smiled down at you gently. You could read him like an open book by now, and something told Zayne this was more for his benefit than your own. 

“Just for a few minutes.” Zayne carefully lowered himself to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, arms instantly wrapping themselves around your waist, “And then you’re taking your vitamins.”

“Mhm…” Your own hands began their lazy circles across his back, one reaching up to slide into his raven hair, “I missed you, too, by the way.” He chuckled softly against your skin. 

Like an open book.

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

Wild Horses

Part 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Doctor!Reader

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

A/N: Just a little idea I had after seeing all the TikToks and now I am yanked onto the Ghost train. I used to watch my brother play the game but that was a while ago so bear with me here. (advice or little pointers are much appreciated). I also might make this into a short story or add another part to it, let me know y’all. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Warnings: language, fluff, angst

You were assigned to the team as their personal physician, as requested by the higher ups in order to make sure the soldiers stayed in best health, both physically and mentally. You used to work at your local hospital before you were offered the position.

You knew the dangers and the risks involved, but you were in debt and had student loans that needed to paid. So after much hesitation, you accepted the offer, eventually being convinced by the fat paycheck.

You remembered the day you were first introduced to the team, the way everyone's eyes glued to you like a hawk, their large forms towering over your small frame in the room while you picked at the skin around your nails in nervous habit.

They were curious to say the least, wondering what the hell someone like you was doing in a place like this. And since when did they get the chance to have a full on doctor to treat them, usually they were offered combat medics. You had guts, that's for sure.

You on the other hand were nervous, frightened even, with the thought of living in the same quarters of men wrapped up within the tumults and afflictions of war without a single clue as to their current psychological state. You had seen the worst of men and humanity growing up and you no idea who these soldiers were, what they were capable of, or what their intentions might be. Maybe you should have requested that briefing before you hopped on that plane.

Amongst all of their gazes, you had failed to notice a certain masked individual in the far back of the room, his form shrouded amongst the others as he studied you. His eyes, hidden underneath the grooves of his mask that only seemed to be darkened by where he stood blocked by the only source of light, watched your every movement, from every gesture of your perfectly manicured fingers to every smoothing of the lint-free fabric of your sweater to the way you kept shifting your weight from one foot to another.

One thing was apparent; during the entire length the high ranking officer next to you introduced you and debriefed the men on what was expected and such, you had not uttered a single word, minus the small polite and somewhat strained smile on your face while your eyes told another story. Why the military truly hired you, he may never know.

After being shown your little office and workspace including your room, you were quick to settle in, decorating the area to the best of your abilities with what you had taken with you from back home in order to bring some life into the dull and two-dimensional area. If anyone questioned you on it you would just say that your own sanity is extremely vital in order to ensure quality treatment for your patients.

Once everything in your office was set up, you threw on your white coat and retreated yourself to your office space, sitting at your desk and hastily going over the files that you had completely forgotten about that were given to you regarding the soldiers' previous health before they come pouring in reporting symptoms of god knows what. Best be prepared. Jesus how many bullet wounds can a single individual have.

The soldiers were advised to do their routine physical examinations with you so the first one to come waltzing in through your office door was none other than Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, a cheeky grin plastered on his face and much too excited for his own good. That boy's got a crush on you I swear. To be honest I'd be lying if I said the whole team didn't have a schoolboy crush on you.

The men were quick to warm up to you, relieved to have a gentle soul in their midst after all the shit that goes down outside, you were like breath of fresh air. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to bring a doctor on board, as quiet and reserved as you were. They speculated you were just shy, the reason why you never spoke much, not knowing that you just couldn't hold a conversation if your life depended on it, especially around those you weren't close with. At first they couldn't tell because of your major rbf.

During their routine check-ups or whatever issue they had going on, they would do most of the talking, which was a good thing on your end because it helped you to piece together their temperaments. Thank the lord no one is a psycho murderer. Oh wait.

Soap is the most chattiest of them all. Boy wouldn't shut his mouth when he sat in your office. He's super flirty. But not as flirty as Alejandro.

Ghost on the other hand was reluctant to step into your office for his check-ups. After all he was usually the one to tend to his own wounds or just push through whatever it is that is going on, so he did not know what all the fuss was about in having to get his health checked. So when you call out his last name more than once might I add, clipboard in hand and scanning the area for whoever looks to be headed in your direction, he can't help but heave out a sigh, trudging over to where you stood, your clean white coat a stark contrast to the rest of the environment as you leaned against your door to hold it open.

You muttered out a small hello to which he let out a small huff as you moved aside to let the man enter, watching him walk into your office and seat himself down. That man intimidated you a bit not gonna lie. Not only could you not see his face but he had also not said a single word to you. And not to mention he was absolutely huge as compared to you, even more so in person. You also had heard a lot of stories from the other guys.

"How is your day?" You ask, shutting the door behind you as you briefly read over his previous but extremely short records on your clipboard. There's barely anything on this man. Does he not get ill?

Ghost is quiet at first, watching your eyes scan over the clipboard and curious to know just what is on those papers before your eyes flit up to meet his and catch him off guard, which causes him to answer abruptly. "Fine."

"Okey dokes." You give a quick smile.

Did you just say okey dokes.

Clearing your throat, you go over to where he sat and set the clipboard down on the table next to you beside your laptop. You didn’t have to read his body language to know he did not want to be here at all. So you were going to do him a favor and make the appointment as quick as possible.

"So do you have any allergies to any medications, any allergies I need to know of?" Your fingers hover over the keyboard of your laptop as you turn to face him, only to be met with an expressionless skull of a mask and the expressionless eyes beneath. Oh boy this session was going to be something. You had heard of how he had never shown his face, so you made sure not to question on it.

"No ma'am."

"Are you currently taking any medication?" You ask the same standard set of questions you have asked every single patient of yours, typing as you go.

"No ma'am."

Any previous illness? Disease?"

"No."

The more you ask him questions, the more he strangely finds it easier to answer. Your voice is surprisingly soft, warm even, like the start of autumn, and he finds it comforting to listen to. Or maybe it's just some technique doctors learn during training in order to relax their patients.

"Do you have any history of smoking, alcohol, or illicit drug use?"

".......sometimes I'll have a smoke, and a glass of bourbon." He's almost waiting for you to hand him a pamphlet about the dangers of smoking.

"How many times would you say?" You ask for details, your eyes still glued to the screen of your laptop as you await his answer.

Ghost is a bit confused by the amount of questions you ask, but he also has not been to the doctor's so how would he know. "Um I don't know."

"A rough estimate is fine."

"Not much, maybe 2-3 times a week or so when I'm not on duty."

"How many times a week do you exercise?" You feel silly for asking this question to a man like him but it's all part of the procedure and you almost pray he doesn't hate you for it.

"Every day." So no pamphlet?

Jesus this man has more discipline than you. You can barely get up in the morning.

"Okayyy." You mutter out, more to yourself as you enter in his responses.

Ghost finds himself watching you from his seat on the chair, his eyes tracing over and studying your features as you type away on your laptop. He thinks you're really pretty but either doesn't want to admit it or just flat out does not know that he finds you attractive.

There are certain details about you that he can't help but find himself intrigued by, like the small black outline flower tattoo on your hand that was located near the area of your thumb, running along the curve to meet the knuckle of your forefinger. He's curious as to the meaning behind it, if there was one. He wanted to ask what type of flower it was, perhaps it was your favorite? It would give him an idea as to what flowers to get you.

"Have you ever been hospitalized, had any surgical procedures done or been treated for any chronic conditions?"

"No." Ghost shakes his head before remembering his wounds from combat, wondering if that is something you should know. "Just the bullet and knife wounds from combat. Nothing too serious."

Jesus fucking christ. You were willing to bet he treated those wounds himself.

Ghost is not a fan of hospitals. Pretty sure this dude just looks up YouTube tutorials on how to fix himself instead of just going to the doctor like a normal human being.

"When was the last time you visited your general practitioner.......or just any doctor in general?" You ask the last question, willing to bet it never.

There was silence on his end as you looked towards him waiting for an answer, the clicking of your keyboard coming to a stop and only loudening the silence. Ghost could not remember the last time he had been to a hospital or even scheduled a visit. And as you looked at him, your eyes almost staring into his soul, still waiting for a response, he could not help but feel a tad bit embarrassed, as if you were judging him for not being a responsible adult. Also it didn't help that you were goddamn pretty.

"I'm gonna take that as a very long time, the last time being the prehistoric ages, correct?" There's the slightest hint of a tease in your voice.

"Uh.......yes ma'am." Ghost squints his eyes at you as you go back to typing on your keyboard. Did you just.............did you just call him…..He does not know how to feel about that. Did you just try to crack a joke? He always thought doctors were the serious type.

"Okay then." You straighten up, grabbing your sphygmomanometer off the table and turning yourself to face him. "Is it okay if I check your blood pressure?"

The man is stunned. No one has ever asked his permission for anything before. He's so used to either taking orders or giving orders that he doesn't know how to respond and stares at you for a moment, forcing his brain to process what to do next before eventually giving a nod.

"Is it okay if you take your jacket off so I can get a clearer reading?"

He nods again, still in shock as he takes off his jacket, leaving him in his black long sleeve thermal. He's almost thankful he wasn't in his full tactical gear, having to imagine you standing there waiting for him as he removes every single piece of equipment off his torso.

"Thank you." You give him a short smile, placing your hand under his tricep and gently lifting his arm in order to wrap the inflatable cuff around his bicep. You almost blush at the mere size of this man's arms. "Now you're just going to feel a slight pressure okay."

Ghost can't help but feel a slight warmth spread to his cheeks at the way you handle him with such care, as if he were the small delicate thing and not you. Now he knows why the others were so giddy after leaving your office.

As you place your stethoscope on his forearm near his elbow to listen to his blood pumping through the artery, your other hand pumping air into the cuff using the inflation bulb with your eyes glued to the numbers on the gauge, he can't help but to notice the old Donald Duck watch that sat at your wrist, the ones with the moving arms and the vintage style black leather straps.

And as he further investigated your attire, he noticed a few other details, like the colorful glittery badge reel in the shape of a pill container with the words "licensed drug dealer" printed on it that was attached to your scrub top, the glitter sticker with the words "I'm nicer than my face looks" as well a few Disney character stickers and the little frog looking keychain that hung off of your badge. He was wondering what the hell that thing was. Your accessories were awfully colorful for a general doctor. Something was telling him you either used to work with families or children. Whatever the hell managed to bring you to such a drastic change.

You brought him out of his thoughts as you shifted from your position, unwrapping the inflatable cuff from around his bicep and placing it back on the table before typing the results into your laptop. "Okay," You adjust the ear pieces of your stethoscope back into your ears as you turn back to him, "I'm going to perform some auscultations, which is just listening to the sounds of your heart and your lungs so if you could just sit up straight and relax that would be wonderful."

Simon straightens up his posture as you place your free hand on his shoulder, at this point you're not sure if you're steadying him or yourself, your fingertips just barely grazing across the bottom of his neck. He doesn't know why but, it's as if your fingers are directly touching the skin underneath, despite the fabric of his mask that separated your fingers from his skin. Your hands feels hot, like really hot and he has no clue why.

The soldier only feels his cheeks warm up even more so now as you inch closer to carefully place the diaphragm of your stethoscope on his chest, your head tilted and your eyes lowered to the floor as you listen for his heart beat. He gets a whiff of your perfume and he finds himself drawn to it. You smell like something along the lines of jasmine petals, geranium, myrrh, frankincense, and a hint of sandalwood. Now he definitely knows why the others are fawning over you. Poor Simon is praying you don't hear how his heart is nearly racing. He does not know why he is feeling this way and it slightly bothers him in the way that he has no clue what it is he is feeling.

He catches how your brows slightly furrow at the center and his heart skips a beat. Now he's fucking embarrassed and this man rarely ever is embarrassed. Maybe he's even starting to panic. Can you tell? Do you know? You open your mouth to say something but he quickly interrupts he just got back from a run so you dismiss it with a shrug, placing the diaphragm on his back now and asking him to give you a couple of deep breaths.

"Okay. Take a deep breathe in, breathe it out. Breathe in, and out."

He complies with your instructions, breathing in slow and deep breaths as you go from one side of his back to another.

"Good job." You remove the earpieces and let your stethoscope hang around your neck as you go back to your table, recording in more info. Hang on did you just, did you just tell a grown 6'4" man good job.

Even Simon is confused. Like bitch.

"Okay, so we're all done with that." You inform him, before going over to one of the drawers and sliding it open. "Now if you don't mind, I would like to have some blood work done on you, just to make sure there are no underlying issues that need to be taken care of."

Simon is silent so you turn to him. "Is that okay, Ghost, is that what the others call you? Would you like me to call you Ghost?"

Goddamn you're too polite. "That's fine by me ma'am."

"Perfect. Now is it okay if I take your blood sample?"

Ghost nods, so you grab the tools necessary and place them on the table next to you.

"Could you please roll your sleeve up and make a fist for me? Thank you." You ask him once you sanitize your hands and throw on a pair of fresh gloves. You grab the tourniquet and catch sight of the tattoos that cover his forearm as you tie the tourniquet around his arm above the elbow. You're curious to know the story behind them but you have a feeling he's not one for storytelling or just talking in general so you remain silent. You tear open the small packet of the alcohol wipe and apply it to the area. The chemical is cool against his skin as you sanitize the area before letting it air dry. Simon can't help but notice how small your hands are.

Simon watches you intently as you work, the way you are so focused and so precise with each step, and yet so gentle. It's almost cute.

"You're just going to feel a little pinch." You tell him in a soft tone, a tone you were used to using on all your little patients before inserting the needle into his vein. As if the man hasn't been shot or stabbed and god knows what multiple times before.

At this point Simon doesn't even notice the needle in his arm, he's too focused on the details of your face. He can sense that you're nervous around him and he feels bad. Even though he's just met you, the last thing he wants is for you to feel scared or unsafe around him. And even though this whole situation is awkward for him since he never was a fan of visiting the hospital, you're their physician, and at the end of the day you're there to patch them up. So he comments on your dark circles, thinking you haven't gotten any rest since you arrived here. "You look tired."

"............that's just my face." You give him that distinct smile, the same smile you have given anyone who ever commented on them as you connect the vacutainers to the needle to draw his blood, your eyes glued to the dark red liquid seeping through the thin clear tube before pouring into the sample tube.

If you thought it was quiet before, well you are most definitely wrong because the silence is absolutely deafening now.

Simon nearly punches himself for his stupidity. Why in the bloody hell did he say that of all things. He wanted to tell you he liked your dark circles but decided to bite his tongue instead. Now he's definitely not going to say another word. Better yet, once he leaves your office, he's not coming back. He's just going to avoid you at all costs in order to save both you and himself the embarrassment. He's willing to bet the others handled this way better than him.

"But I suppose I am a bit jet-lagged though. Haven't really gotten any rest since I got on that plane." You add. "I appreciate your concern."

You most definitely said that to make him feel better about himself, Simon thinks to himself as he stares at the wall and avoids your face. There was no other reason.

Once your done drawing his blood you ask him to hold the piece of cotton pad down onto where the needle was punctured as you open up the drawer where the gauze is located. "Do you have a favorite color?"

Did you just ask him his favorite color? Simon stares at you blankly. Were all doctors this odd?

"I'm guessing you like black?" You pull out the roll of black gauze, displaying it in front of you with the most deadpanned expression possible.

You've got jokes. Simon thinks to himself. If he had looked a little closer he would have noticed the ghost of a smirk on your lips.

"You should see the colors the others picked." You tease as you wrap the gauze around his arm at the elbow, making sure it isn't too tight but also not loose enough to the point where the cotton pad underneath slips out.

Simon narrows his eyes at you. Bloody fucking hell. The others picked a color?

You're pretty sure Gaz requested you get an Elmo print one he saw online once somewhere. Soap asked if there a print of the Scotland flag available. The look of hurt on his face when you said there wasn't so you improvised and gave him both the blue and white gauze. You gave him a Dum-Dum lollipop to make him feel better. The others may have also gotten a lollipop as they left your office, especially after seeing the special treatment that Soap received. Were they jealous? Maybe.

Once you tell the man he is all good to go and that you will call him once you're done getting the results from his blood sample, he nearly jumps out of the chair and bolts out of your office. He prays some unknown miracle happens and that his blood sample magically disappears so that he doesn't have to face you, firmly believing he insulted you and that you thought he called you ugly when that is not what he intended. I am telling you this man does not know how to compliment. They should make a guidebook for dummies specialized just for him.

You watch him disappear out your door with a quirked brow. Well that was fucking weird.

When Simon leaves the area he finds Soap lounging about on a chair with a sucker in his mouth.

"The hell is that?" Simon squints at the sergeant.

"Mph mph." Soap's voice comes out muffled.

"What?"

Soap pauses and turns to see Ghost looming over him. "It's a Dum-Dum."

"A fuckin what?"

"Y/n said they're called Dum-Dums." Soap pulls it out of his mouth, twisting the stick of the lollipop around in his fingers as if he were inspecting it. "This one's a cotton candy flavor."

"She gave you a fuckin lollie?"

"It's pure dead brilliant I tell ya. Why, did she not give ya one?"

More silence. Simon would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't a tad bit butthurt.

"Maybe you scared her." Soap jokes.

Simon lets out a grumbled incoherent huff and walks away.

Soap just shrugs and pops the lollipop back in his mouth.

Simon has a feeling he is going to go to bed thinking about his actions.

Part 2

[enbyfrogwrites]

you're so needy, baby

first actual post, be kind!

tags: mommy kink, sub! choso, smut, begging, afab reader but reader is nb coded, reader is mixed coded but there's nothing pertaining to race tho outwardly, begging, cockwarming, needy!choso, dom!reader, 18+

also i tried my best but there's going to be spelling error and shit, i'm only one person and im sorry. Also decided to end it early because I don’t think that it’s that good. But if you want me to actually finish it, shoot me an ask.

word count: ~1.7k

It started that you wanted to play your game, and Choso kept asking for attention. He kept standing by your side even though you just started your new quest in your game. It was going to take awhile. You kept looking up at him when you saw him shuffling side to side from the corner of your eyes.

"Cho," You voice soft, this was your first forreal day off that you didn't have to do errands or still go on missions. You wanted to play your game. It's been weeks. "What is it that you need, baby?"

Your boyfriend just silently pulled at your sleeve, giving you a pout.

"If you want something, you have to tell me, I can't read minds." You pause your game and full turn to face the poor curse.

"I just..." His voice so quiet and sounds? Whiny? "I really miss you, Mommy."

oh. Oh.

"You miss Mommy, baby?" You coo, your face splitting into a toothy grin. You watch him nod, his face flushing such a pretty shade of pink.

"We...we haven't done it in so long," His voice was most definitely whiny. He wasn't wrong, since you were sent on back to back missions, all you did when you got home was just...sleep. The only thing you two did for the past couple weeks was scattered blows and handies. You understood where he was coming from.

But you really wanted to play your game. You also happened to look down, and see that Choso was half hard in the joggers you bought him. A bright idea crossed your mind, making you giggle slightly. It was perfect.

"How about this," You purr, your hands reach out and caress his stomach through his shirt. You watch as his body tensed and breath hitched. It made you smile softly. He's such a needy boy.

"I'll warm your cock, baby. I'll sit on your cock, and you be good for Mommy, okay?" You watch as his face twist in lust and confusion.

"Let Mommy play their game for one hour, okay? If you don't move and be a good boy, Mommy will let you fuck their hole however you want to, sound okay, Cho?"

Choso's face brightened up, you watched as his cock gave an interested twitch in the joggers.

"So... I can fuck Mommy if I'm good?" His voice was too cute, it was so hopeful and happy.

You nod, your lips giving your boyfriend a small smile of encouragement. "But, you're not allowed to move in me for one full hour. If you're able to do that, then yes." You really wanted to clarify the last part. You still really wanted to play your game.

Choso nodded, his face bright pink in lust and his facial expression showed so much excitement. You get off your office chair and motion for him to sit in it. You watch as he clammers into the chair, his hands fidgeting in his lap. His pants was still on…now that just won’t do.

You decided to pull the chair out from the desk, his hands grabbing on to the arm rests of your chair as you move him back. You move the chair far enough that you can slot yourself between the desk and your boyfriend, with space to move. You bend down to gently tug at Choso’s pants, pulling softly at each pant leg to get your point across. He dutifully lifts up his hips and you pull his pants down. He wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“Oh you, slut. No underwear? You’re so needy, baby!” You laugh, not maliciously but out of surprise. Generally he always kept his underwear on even at home, it was a habit he picked up from living with Yuuji before coming to live with you. He’s so desperate. It was so cute.

Choso nodded, his flushed face deepening in color. “I missed you so much, Mommy.” Your heart fluttered, god he was so cute. You were wearing one of your boxers only, so you swiftly pulled them off and tossed them off to your bed which was next to your desk. You watched as your boyfriend’s cock jumped, his cock almost all the way hard just from taking off both of your bottoms.

“This only works if you’re fully hard, so I’m gonna suck on it okay? Don’t move, okay? Be a good boy.” He gulped, his blush went down his neck and to his chest.

You didn’t wait for a response, you carefully dropped to your knees so you don’t land on your boyfriend’s feet. You looked back up at his face, looking at his lust filled eyes as you carefully brought the tip of his cock to your lips. Choso gasped quietly as you began to go down on him, your brain storing all his beautiful sounds in your memory bank for later. You sucked as much as you could comfortably fit in your mouth, making sure not to swallow around his hard length. After all, it’s just to make sure he’s completely hard not to actually get him off. You pulled back and went down again, doing this action a handful more times. Each time you took a bit more of his length in your mouth than the last. By this point Choso began panting, his mouth was open and he was mewling pathetically at the attention that you were giving him. You watched as his face began to scrunch up, his eyebrows furrowing cutely as he whined softly and gripped the arms of your desk chair.

You decide to pull off, which caused Choso to whimper. “Mommy, you felt so good though!” Choso was adorable, his eyes had tears in the corners from the stimulation.

“I know baby, but I told you I just wanted to just get you hard so you can slide in my hole, remember?” You were teasing him, you hand coming to gently stroke the tip of his cock. You felt his cock twitch in your hand deliciously, making you smile up at him. “Only for an hour, okay?”

You stood up and pulled up your shirt a little, it was baggy and you didn’t want it to catch on his cock or anything else. You leaned down a little bit and kissed Choso, your lips only going for a peck then pulling away. It was adorable seeing the poor curse trying to follow your lips. You turned around and felt Choso’s hands grab at your back, massaging your rolls lovingly as you pulled the chair closer to the desk with one hand. It was nice, your boyfriend didn’t care what you looked like, he loved your fat stomach, all your stretch marks and cellulite. It made you so happy that Choso genuinely love you for you, and wasn’t an asshole or embarrassed by you being fat. It made your heart soft when you felt his right hand snake its way to your front and rubbed at your stretch mark covered apron belly. You loved him so much. Without much prompting, you reached between your legs and aimed Choso’s cock to your now sopping wet hole. You carefully sat down, sheathing his length inch by inch. It took you a couple moments since your boyfriend was so big, but you finally bottomed out and was fully seated in his lap. Behind you though, you hear Choso gasping and felt him grip at your stomach. You looked behind your shoulder and saw his face was completely blissed out but also tortured. Your boyfriend’s face was so flushed, and his lips were parted and had drool partially leaking out of the corner of his mouth.

“Oh fuck, baby you feel so good around me.” Choso gasped out, his eyebrows furrowing as he opened his eyes to look at yours. “Love your hole, Mommy! It makes my cock feel so good!”

You smile softly as you lean back to give him a kiss. You sloppily landed it on his nose, since that was as close as you could get, but nonetheless you turn back around. You shifted a little, getting a bit more comfortable on your boyfriend’s muscular thighs. The moment made both of you sigh, his shaft was hitting your insides Perfectly, and your hole was clenching around his shaft so good. It was then that you realized with a laugh that you were still too far away from the desk, Not too far away, but too much so that you couldn’t reach your keyboard well enough to actually play.

“Baby?” You ask, your head turning around to look at your boyfriend. “You can move me for a minute or two if you scoot the chair up closer to the desk.”

“Move you on my cock?” Choso sounded so excited.

“Yep! Only for a minute or two, then I’ll play my game. But I can’t play this far away from the keyboard.” You blink at Choso as he smiled at you as he did what you ask in a heartbeat. You felt yourself and him scoot across the hardwood floor in a smooth motion, his thighs clenching as he flexed his legs to propel forward. Choso propelled you two enough so you can reach your keyboard and pull it closer to you. He left enough room so your stomach wasn’t digging into the desk, he was so considerate. God you loved him.

“Okay, you can move for only two minutes then you’ll let me play, okay?” You grinned at Choso as you felt him grab at your hips and sides, and hefted you up. Since he was a half-curse, his strength was able to carry you with no problems. He swiftly brought you down, your ass smacking against his pelvis with a loud slap. You grab at your desk as he lifted you up and began a brutal pace. You were left moaning helplessly. Your body jolting with each time Choso meeting you halfway. You look at your desktop and see that two minutes has passed and you reach down and grab at Choso’s legs, making him come to a halt.

“Baby, that’s two minutes.” You grinned wolfishly.

[fieldsofwriting]

And so, the stars aligned.

Azriel x Archeron!Sister reader.

Summary: After the Cauldron had transformed you and your sisters into High Fae, it takes some adjusting. But as life settles down, your left with searing normalcy and dealing with your sisters being grossly in love.

Warnings: None!

This is going to be part of a ongoing series! Feel free to send over any other ideas!

Requests are open!!

part two part three part four Masterlist

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You were happy for your sisters. Truly. Feyre had found Rhysand and made her life here better than anything you could have imagined back home in the rundown cabin you had grown up in. Nesta, well she was still Nesta. But now she had Cassian. And they were annoyingly in love.

But here you were. Sitting in the gardens with your only other single sister, book perched in your lap as you get distracted watching how Elain floats gracefully through the gardens. She had a few smears of dirt across her cheek, and a light sweat sheen made it look like she was glowing as the sunlight hit her. The sound of footsteps echoed as someone approached the gardens. Looking over you saw Azriel standing there- noting how he purposefully made himself known before entering. He doesn't bother to look in your direction at first, his eyes trained on where Elain was kneeling.

"Az!" Elain chirps, quickly standing and smoothing out her dress. Smiling up at the Shadowsinger. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Azriel had the faintest smile as he looked at Elain. "I wanted to make sure you were doing well." Finally he looks over in your direction. His hazel eyes meeting yours as he seemed to share the same sentiment towards you as well. Elain seemed to remember that you were there as well. Looking over at you, she gives an easy smile.

"I think we're doing well. What about you? y/n?" She asks overly sweet. And you knew your sister well enough to know she was telling you to answer and find a way out so she can be alone with Az.

Smiling as well, though admittedly tighter due to her sisters look. You understood her hesitance with her mate. But did she really not even respect the man enough to just flat out reject him? He clearly wasn't accepting her indifference as rejection. "I'm well." You nod, standing and stretching with a slight yawn. "I think I'm going to take a nap."

Elain winks at you, taking Azriel's arm as she tugs him further into the gardens. Rolling your eyes and shaking your head, you head upstairs toward the room Feyre had crafted just for you. And you couldn't lie. It was so nice to have your own room, your own space. A luxury you couldn't have ever imagined the nights you laid on the floor of the old cabin.

You were young when your mother passed. You had barely known what life was like before poverty. Just two years younger than Feyre, it had been enough to ensure that you couldn't read- but like Feyre you knew the Alphabet…at least somewhat. You wondered if you could teach yourself to read now? You look at the book you had in your hands and sighs. Tossing it aside, you just occasionally flipped through the pages to make it look like you were doing anything else but getting lost into your head. Letting yourself fall back onto your bed, looking up at the ceiling. Boredom was going to kill you. Not wanting to wither away just yet. You got up with a heavy sigh and decided to go find Nyx. If there had been nothing good about becoming a High Fae, he would be your shining light. He was the Archeron's pride and joy. You and your sisters argue over being the favorite Aunt. Nesta claims that since she saved his, and Feyre's life, she is automatically the favorite. You and Elain told her that Nyx doesn't know her yet so it's not a fair assumption. Secretly, deep down you know that you're the favorite.

Making your toward Rhys's office- where you knew Feyre tended to be around this time. Gently knocking on the door, "It's open!" Rhys answers and looks toward the door expectantly. Stepping in you give a small smile.

"I have come to steal your son." You joke, walking in and seeing the baby in Feyre's arms. Her and Rhys laugh as Nyx perks up at you reaching his little arms out. You can't help the smile growing on your face as you take him. "Well hello there, Nxyie!" You coo as you brush the hair out of his face. He babbles to you, and you nod along to it. As if it isn't just gibberish.

"Nothing exciting going on y/n?" Rhys asks, standing from his desk as he wraps an arm around Feyre and presses a kiss to her temple. You shake your head.

"You're welcome to join us, we were just about to go out to lunch." Feyre offers, her smile is soft and sweet. She was practically glowing here. Gently you shook your head.

"Nah, when's the last time you guys had some alone time? I've got Nyx go enjoy." You give your sister and her mate a gentle smile. They look at each other- eyes glossing over as they talk to each other. You try and keep the ache in your heart out. Watching your sisters fall in love was the best thing that ever happened to you, to them. You were so insanely happy for them it was sometimes hard to remind yourself that mates take time. And yours would be out there, and you'd find them one day.

Feyre turns to you, "If you're okay with watching him then we'd be happy to take you up on the offer. "

"I can compen-" Rhys begins but you cut him off before he can continue.

"He is my nephew, Rhysand." You hardly used his full name. Giving a playful glare as you turn away with Nyx, who giggles at the movement. "You don't have to pay me to watch him."

Feyre laughs and shrugs, looking up at him. "I told you she wouldn't accept." Rhys hands his hands up defensively.

"Don't say I didn't try." He gives an easy smile to you and Feyre. In a few quick steps he presses a kiss to Nyx's head. "Behave for your Aunt." He tells him gently, then presses a kiss to the top of your head. "And you, call me if you need anything." You nod and smile as Feyre also quickly kisses Nyx's cheek and tells him that she loves him. Hugging you as they leave.

You look back at the infant in your arms. It was strange to how much this little guy looked like your sister, but there was so much more Rhys in him. He blinks his big blue eyes up at you. "Well Nyx. It's just me and you." You sigh and give an exaggerated shrug to jostle him- earning a giggle.

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Laying on the floor, you continue to play with Nyx. His attention currently on a crinkly kids book. And you try to read the book with him- able to make out a few words.

"Pretending to read that one too?"

You jump as you whip around to see Azriel there. HIs face remains stoic, but his eyes have a glint of amusement in them. You wrinkle your nose at the Illyrian in front of you. "Spying on us?"

He raises any eyebrow and crosses the room, sitting next to you and picking up Nyx. Holding him up above him, "Hello Nyx." Nyx babbles in return and Azriel nods along as well. He looks back toward you as he lowers Nyx and passes him back the book. "He says that you were reading to him."

You smile, leaning back on your hands as you look at him. Raising an eyebrow while Azriel continues to look at you- you'd normally shy away under the Shadowsingers gaze. But for some reason today you can't seem to do that right now. "Is that so?"

Azriel simply nods. "But if you ask me, I think you were just fake reading to him."

If there was one person who had picked up on your inability to read. It would have been the Spy master himself. "What makes you think that?"

Not expecting the challenging tone from you, you could swear that Azriel looked shocked for a second. But he leans forward, equally as challenging. "What is your book about?"

Shit. You blink, what would make it so he wouldn't question you? "…romance. Pure. Filthy romance. I got it from Nesta." You lie quickly and pray to the Mother that he believed you.

Azriel nods, seeming satisfied with that answer. "You ran out of the garden quickly." He notes. You could have sworn that as you looked at him leaning back there was a…sadness to his voice. But that would be ridiculous. He was in love with Elain.

"I wanted to give you and Elain time." You shrug, looking back at Nyx who is now smashing two trucks together. You take one of the rubber ducks on the floor, setting it on your nephew's head.

"I went out there to talk to both of you."

You don't dare to look at him. "Is something wrong?"

"…No." He says after some contemplation. Taking another duck and setting it on the babes shoulder. Nyx seemed unbothered by it. Continuing to smash the trucks.

"Then, no harm no foul. Right?" You smile as you look back over at Azriel. And the spy master didn't flinch at your words, but something told you that he didn't agree.

"I suppose." He nods. Getting up and bowing to you. "Goodbye Nyx, Goodbye y/n."

You scoop up Nyx and make him wave, trying to ease the tension. "Say bye-bye Uncle Az!"

And there was a hint of a smile from Azriel before he turned and walked out. ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

a/n: This was a lot of exposition, but I swear that there is more drama coming up!!