#i imagine when he sleeps his eye lights just go out

[chris-prank]

Hii! I just wanted to ask, if youre up to it, how jacce would react to a darling who is disabled and sometimes ends up bedbound for a day or two at a time because of it? Would it be cuddles central? Would he wait on them? What might he cook?

If thats not your speed maybe just something cute about his favorite type of outfits on darling ^-^

I’m totally up to it! 😆

If Jacce had a disabled darling that occasionally ended up bed bound, he would definitely be at their beck and call. The only thing he would be missing is a nurse uniform at this rate (any kind you want to imagine 👀). Plus he would never think of them as a burden, quite the contrary since Jacce considers being of any help to his lover to be a great honor. If his darling condition doesn’t hurt them too much, he would for sure be the first to volunteer for cuddles and give them massages! He would also try to cook comforting food for his lover, either their favorite meal or typical things like homemade chicken broth. Anything to bring a smile to their face basically!

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

As you tried to drift off to sleep, since you really didn’t have anything else to do, you could hear faint whimpers coming from your side. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think a stray had broken into your room. But as you opened your eyes and glanced down you could see Jacce, with his chin resting on the side of the bed, looking up at you with worried eyes. You let out a sigh before speaking up. 

“Jacce I told you I’m going to be fine.” You raised your hand to run your fingers through his hair, “I’m used to this.” 

It didn’t seem to calm him in the slightest.

“Still… I hate seeing you hurting and not being able to do anything about it.” He mumbled into the sheets and you could even suspect a pout. 

You smiled at his response. Jacce’s eagerness to help you in any way shape or form when you weren’t at your best was always a part of him that you found incredibly touching, even if it sometimes came off as a bit clingy.

“Since you’re here, why don’t you slip into the covers and cuddle with me? I was about to fall asleep anyway.” 

And it only took that to light up his face in that familiar puppy-like expression. 

[fragrantdream]

prince xavier

The rustling leaves of the weeping willow shelter you from the sun and the gentle afternoon breeze. You sit beneath the magnificent tree with your legs crossed and head leant back against its’ trunk. The sun starts to waver in the sky, its light turning from bright white to a much more comfortable orange. You can’t help but fall into the clutches of a light sleep while you wait, but after a while the tranquillity of the gardens is interrupted by a restless presence. Opening your eyes, you look up to see Xavier standing before you, the loose white fabric of his undershirt billowing around him like a halo, and his skin tanned rather strongly in of the dwindling days of summer. He smiles down at the disorientated look on your face, admiring the way you look up at him in awe. 

“Have you been well?” Xavier asks with a smirk, sitting beside you comfortably.  

“I should stand to greet you.” You aren’t sure who is watching you, so you do just that. You bow, trying to greet the future king with the proper protocol.  He chuckles at the sight of you standing before him with your clothes stained by the dampness of the ground – a leaf hangs from your shoulder. He stands and returns the bow mockingly, before reaching out and picking up the leaf between his fingers to let it flutter to the ground. 

“Nobody is watching.” Xavier silently hopes that he’s right, and that his minders hadn’t followed him into the woods. He grips your shoulders and pulls you into a hug, which forces you to smile despite your anxiety. You know you aren’t permitted to see him, and you let the fear of being caught flicker over you for a second before the feeling of his head nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck makes you forget. You both stand still for a moment, taking the moment as it is – beautiful, and fleeting. Birds and bugs begin to chirp louder as the sun continues to set, the air growing colder. Naturally, and as you have many times before, you lay side by side for a while to silently watch the stars as they appear. It’s easy to lose track of time chatting about the upcoming winter, and anything else that comes to mind. You eventually light the oil lantern he’d hidden in the trunk of the willow months ago when you’d first met in this meadow. It is the only way you’re able to stay out just a bit longer past sunset. 

You look over at Xavier, now illuminated by the warm glow of the fire with an arm resting behind his head, eyes trained on you as you lay back down beside him. His hands grasp yours tightly, and he pulls them to his lips where he kissed them, before letting them rest on his chest over his heart. Even after all this time, he was yet to kiss you, so although foreign the action was not undesired. Propping your head up on your elbow you look down at him, and he’s surprised you’ve let go of his hand and wonders if he’s done something wrong. You start to think about how it wasn’t long before he’d no longer be your prince, but rather, a king. He’d be betrothed, and running the country. You wonder how much he might change when that happens though you quickly dismiss your doubts because it’s Xavier, and he has a habit of handling anything life throws at him. You find yourself lost in the sentimentality of the moment and lean down to press a kiss to his lips, certain that his father the king would be disgusted at the thought of his son being touched by a commoner. He winds his hand behind your head and sits up, and you quickly realise he wants to kiss you too – you both slowly test the waters, and relish in the feeling after so many years of imagining it. The feeling is completely different from those daydreams, yet it is a thousand times better at the same time. 

Xavier opens his mouth first with a loud exhale that tickles your face and sends shivers down your spine and neck. You both straighten up and readjust for a moment while he moves his open mouth against your lips, waiting for you respond, and you cave in an instant and open your mouth to fully taste him. The remnants of wine and fruit from his lunch linger in his mouth, and the tastes are richer than anything you’d ever had access too before. He whines slightly at the feeling becoming enthralled with your mouth and softly guiding you to lean back against the now dewy grass. You follow his lead, stretching your legs beneath him as he straddles you, lips never leaving your own. This doesn’t last long however before he pulls away, asking if you’re okay as he lays himself atop your body and guides your legs to wrap around his waist. You nod in an instant, hastily pulling him back to you. This pulls forth more prominent groans from his throat as his lips venture to press open-mouthed kissed to your jawline. You open your eyes for a second to watch him move to your neck, before immediately scrunching them back closed when you feel him sucking on your skin. Unsure of what to do with your hands you reach down to grip at his hair, though he grabs hold of your wrist before you get the chance to tug.  

“I must be presentable for dinner with my father tonight.” Xavier reminds you, and you let out a breathless laugh at the thought. He tightly clasps both of your hands together above your head between one of his own, fingers cold yet strong whilst holding you in place. He kisses your upper arm, letting out a sigh and opening his eyes to look at you below him, already completely wrecked. There is something wild and unfamiliar in his expression, even with only half of his face visible in the light of the nearby oil lamp as it grows dimmer over time. He reluctantly lets go of your wrists to feel your waist and chest, imparting only the softest of touches before moving your arms over his shoulders. You run your hands over his upper back and grip onto the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling it up slightly to feel the buttery skin of his lower back. 

You are interrupted by the sound of Xavier's name being shouted from the woods, and quickly reach for the lamp to extinguish it, breaths heavy and eyes wide. He shushes you while standing and offering you a hand to help you up, before guiding you behind the great tree. He adjusts himself and calls out a haphazard “I’m coming now”, before reluctantly walking towards the clearing. He makes it over to his minders but turns back, telling them he’d forgotten something after falling asleep. They dismiss him with a sigh, arms folded and posture trying but failing to intimidate him. He rushes back to the tree and grabs hold of the brass handle of the oil lamp. When he is certain he is out of view, he hooks it between your trembling fingers to leave it with you. 

“Please find your way home safely in the dark.” You press another kiss to his lips as a thank you, hoping that he’d hurry back to his minders before he gets in trouble, though as the crown prince you suppose he is always in trouble. He smiles in return. 

“I love you.” Xavier turns and begins walking back before you can respond, hoping you managed to hear him over the sound of the crickets. 

[aemondapologistfrfr]

I Just Need You

jace x innocent!f!reader

Summary: You seek comfort from Jacaerys during a storm and he does everything he can to help settle you. 

Warnings: 18+ mention of a glass of wine, swearing, masturbation(m), fingering, nipple play, oral(f), face sitting, p in v, loss of virginity, Jacaerys the Generous 

Authors Note: first time ever writing for jace - i’ll allow a public crucifixion if i butchered this 🤗 anon request! also nothing specific about reader but she does live with them on dragonstone

Word Count: 3.5k 

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It had been storming all day and you had hoped that it would let up before you had to retire to your chambers for the evening. But of course, you had no such luck. Your handmaidens had tried a steaming bath and tea to calm your nerves but to no avail your heart still pounded rapidly with every crash of thunder. 

You tried and tried to convince yourself it was just the dragons below but with every strike of lightning you would jump and pull the covers closer. The breeze from the window has been blowing out your fire and the cold has begun to creep in. Slowly your nerves begin to rise again and the shadows cast by the bolts in the sky send shivers down your spine. 

After an hour of tossing and turning fitfully on your bed, you push the covers off and rise. The stone floors chill your feet and only make your adrenaline spike. Grabbing the candle almost burnt out from your side table, you step into your slippers and walk over to your chamber doors. You pull open the heavy door and peek out and sigh in relief at the empty hall. 

Lightning flashes illuminating the stone walls and send shadows dancing far above your head. You hold tighter to your candle and start in the familiar direction as fast as your feet allow. 

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Jace loves the sound of the rain beating against the stone. Sleep has escaped him, not that he cared because it allowed him to have more time to relax and let his mind wander to what has truly been keeping him up. The dress, a generous term, that you wore to dinner was nothing more than a napkin. You had coo’d and preened about how your handmaidens had worked dutifully to make your vision come to life and he wondered if that vision was to be the temptress of this desolate island. 

When you reached across the table he was sure your breasts were going to spill out and he cleared his throat, standing to reach the wine for you. When you looked up at him with your sweet smile he felt his trousers begin to tighten as he filled your cup. Gods and the way you squeezed his arm and let your hand linger there sent his head spiraling. Regardless that the touch was innocent or not it still left him wishing your hands were elsewhere. This line of thinking is the exact reason he’s spread out on his bed with his cock in his fist and his eyes screwed shut. 

His grip is light and teasing as he envisions you looking at him with a tilted head and a furrowed brow, asking if you’re doing it right. His stomach tightens when he swipes against his tip imagining it’s your lips placing a soft kiss on it. “Fuck, just like that.” the breathy words leave his mouth as he jerks his hips up into his hand. His grip tightens when he pictures you wrapping your warm mouth around his cock. “You’re doing-“ there’s a quick succession of knocks at his door. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, grabbing his sheets as the door starts to open. “Give me a mo-

“I’m sorry.” you shut the door behind you and pad over to his bed. Jace groans, shoving a pillow over his cock as you set the candle on his table. 

“What’s wrong?” he tries to control his breathing. He looks over the length of you and wishes he didn’t. Your nipples are poking through your flimsy nightdress and the hem barely reaches past your small clothes. “Are you okay?” his eyes make it back up to your face and he looks at the pout gracing your lips. 

“The fire went out in my room.” you chew your lip. 

“Why didn’t you call your handmaidens?” he doesn’t mean for his voice to sound so clipped but the feel of his cock pressing against his pillow is less than desirable right now. 

“I’m cold.” you whine wrapping your arms around you. He swallows knowing you’re not doing it intentionally but you're pushing your breasts out further and he has to look away. 

“Have your furs escaped you as well?” he looks out his window at the storm still waging on.

“I’m scared of the storm.” your voice barely a whisper. “Jace please,” you push your bottom lip out and he slowly turns back towards you. “Please.” he sighs and pats the empty space next to him. 

“Come on then.” he gasps as you pull the sheets back. “Hold on.” he fists the sheets still covering himself, groaning at the pillow sliding against his cock.

“You always let me under the covers.” you whine pulling on the sheet again. 

“Yeah but- I-“ he mentally berates himself at this situation. He sighs, meeting your pleading eyes once more. “I’m not wearing anything. Just go sit on the couch and I’ll find some pants.” he nods at you. 

“If you prefer to sleep in the nude I can too.” you offer him a soft smile and start to pull up your nightdress. 

“No, no. Wait. That’s not-“ the thin piece of fabric is pooled on the ground before he can finish his sentence. What the fuck is going on? Jace's head spins as he looks at your bare chest and watches you grab for your small clothes next. “Fuck, stop.” he sits up and stops your hand and he groans as the sheet and pillow fall away from him. 

“Did I do something wrong?” your face deflates and he wants to jump out his window at the expression. 

“You’ve done nothing wrong.” he cups your face. “I promise.” he nods. “I’m going to go get a pair of pants and you’re going to put your nightdress back on and we’ll lay down. Okay?” he searches your eyes. 

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” you blink up at him. 

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” he furrows his brows. 

“Cause this looks like it hurts.” you start to reach for his cock. “It’s red and looks like it’s crying.” he grabs your wrist before you can grab him and looks at you with wide eyes. He’s rendered speechless as he blinks at you trying to form a sentence. “Does it?” you tilt your head and start to move your other hand towards it which he stops once more. 

“It does. A bit but it’s not your fault.” not intentionally anyways. “I don’t..” he shakes his head, still trying to find the words. “Fuck it.” he mutters under his breath. “Get in bed and I’ll go get my extra furs.” he watches a smile start to form on your face as he releases your wrists. 

“Thank you.” you pull him into a hug and he freezes. “You’re so warm.” you hold him closer, burying your head in his neck. “Maybe I don’t need furs. I just need you.” your soft words go straight to his cock. 

“I’ll be right back.” he starts to pull away. 

“No.” you hold him closer and start to crawl onto the bed. 

“You’ve abandoned your furs and nightdress for a sheet?” he holds your hips to stop you from sitting in his lap. 

“I’ve abandoned them for you, Jacaerys.” your hand’s make their way to his curls. “For your warmth and embrace. You always hold me when it storms. Why is tonight so different?” you try to scoot closer and he groans feeling your chest press against his.

“Cause my cock is out.” you let out a whine at his words. 

“If it hurts so bad let me make it feel better.” before he processes your words you have your fingers wrapped around his shaft. 

“Gods.” he groans, wrapping his hand around yours. 

“I’m sorry,” you gasp, pulling back. “Did I hurt you?” you search his face. 

“Quite the opposite.” he lets out a breathy chuckle. 

“So you want me to touch your cock?” you tilt your head. 

“I mean yes but- 

“Tell me how.” you wrap your fingers back around him. “I want to help you.” you pump your hand once. Jace's head is soaring trying to figure out if this is real or the best dream he’s ever had. When your thumb brushes against his leaking slit he decides he doesn’t care and stops your hand once more. 

“Let’s lay back.” you nod and follow him up to his pillows before curling against his side. You bring your hand back to his cock and his fingers wrap around yours. “Like you were doing before. You can go quick or slow.” his stomach tightens as you both pump him. “You can tighten your grip.” he gets out between his teeth as you follow his instruction. 

“What about the part that’s crying?” you look up at him as you swipe your thumb against it. 

“Fuck,” his hips jerk up. “You can do that.” he nods. 

“Okay. Let go. I want to try on my own.” he removes his hand and you both look down and watch your hand stroke against him. You try different speeds making sure to swipe at his crying tip every once in a while and your head snaps up when a soft sound comes from his lips. “Am I doing it right?” you chew your lip. 

“Yes. Gods, yes,” he pants and you watch his stomach flex as you stroke him faster. “Fuck just like that.” he tilts your head up to him. “Can I kiss you?” his hips jerk helplessly up into your hand. The second you nod he’s pressing his lips to yours. 

You lean into him more and he brings a hand up to one of your breasts, pulling a gasp from you. “Is this okay?” he mumbles onto your lips and your quick nod has him kneading against you with more fervor. You bring your other hand down to swipe against his tip while you stroke him quickly. Jace pulls back from your mouth gasping as you continue your movements. 

“Oh,” you look down as his cock starts to cry more. “Is this-

“Yes this is good. So good, fuck,” he curses lowly as his pleasure washes through him. “Okay, you can slow down.” his voice breaks as you continue with your pace. “Please, I-“ he whimpers and feels his legs start to shake as his pleasure still lands against his stomach. He grabs onto your hands and pries them off of him. 

“I’ll get a cloth to clean you up.” you hum and go to sit up. 

“No,” Jace shakes his head. “We can just use..” he looks around not wanting you to leave his bed anytime soon. 

“Mm, we can use my small clothes.” you nod quickly and scoot back to pull them down. He catches a glimpse of your slit and he feels his cock twitch. “Oh,” you look at your small clothes. “It looks like my cunny is crying too?” you look up at him and take in his parted lips. 

“Why would your cunny be crying?” Jace chuckles watching your cheeks flush. 

“I don’t know. It felt warm when I was touching you. Now it feels kinda sticky.” he looks down and sees you rubbing your thighs together. 

“I can,” he clears his throat. “I can help if you want.” you nod at him with a small smile. “Come lay down.” he helps you lean back against his pillows. 

Jace presses his lips to yours softly before licking along your bottom lip. He slowly presses his tongue into your mouth and you gasp holding him closer. As he’s occupying your mouth his fingers roll one of your nipples earning him a soft whimper from you. He brushes his thumb against the hardened peak while you writhe beneath him. His hand travels down your body and he lets one of his fingers ghost up the side of your slit. 

“Jacaerys,” you whine, spreading your legs wider for him. He dips his finger into your wetness and slides it up to your slick bud and you jolt looking up at him. “Mm yes,” you gasp, holding on to his arm as he slowly circles around your bud. He leans down and wraps his lips around one of your nipples and you whine. 

He chuckles as he takes the hardened bud between his teeth and feels more pleasure seep out of you. One of his fingers trails down and slides along your entrance and he groans as he feels it fluttering around nothing. His thumb rubs quickly at your bud as he teases your core all the while his tongue is lashing against your chest. 

“Jace, I don’t know, I-” you whimper arching off the bed when he speeds his fingers up. “Something- I, Jacaerys.” you cry as your pleasure slams through you. 

“How did that feel?” he kisses back up your chest to your mouth. 

“Can you do that again?” you whine into his mouth. “I’ll help you with your cock too. Please, please.” you grab his hardened length once more. 

“I can take care of myself.” he chuckles, removing your hand. “We can try something else.” he leans back to search your face. 

“Yeah, anything.” you nod, chewing your lip. You watch him lay back on the bed and he starts to pull you over. “What do you want me to do?” you tilt your head looking down at him. 

“I want you to sit on my face so I can kiss your cunny.” he chuckles watching your eyes widen. 

“Jace.” he chuckles at your scandalized tone. 

“If you don’t like it we can do something else.” he rubs his thumb into your hip. His chest swells as you start to straddle his head and he places his hands on your hips leading you down to his waiting mouth. He licks up your center and you shutter above him. “Is that okay?” he looks up at your face. 

“Yes.” you pant nodding your head. He repeats the action and listens to your soft whimpers. He pulls your hips down and presses his tongue into your center. “Mm, Jace, I-“ you gasp as your legs start to shake. He slowly starts to rock you against his mouth and broken moans fall from your mouth. 

The sounds you're making are going straight to Jaces cock. He takes one of his hands from your hips and brings it down to his leaking cock. His hips jerk into his hand and he groans into you as you slowly start to rock against his face. The whine that comes from you when he encases your bud only spurs him on more. His tongue flicks against you quickly and your body goes taut. 

“Jacaerys, I- please, Gods please,” you cry out as your pleasure washes through you. 

He continues to lash his tongue faster and your whines and gasps become more high pitched. You’re pleading above him and he tightens his grip on his cock wishing it was your crying cunny. He groans when your legs tighten around his head as your pleasure starts to seep out of you. 

“Jace please, I- It’s,” a small scream comes from you and your eyes roll back as your body is pushed over the edge. He pulls back as your pleasure coats his face and his shoots across his stomach. He slides his tongue against your slit once more and your hand tangles in his hair. 

“Okay, okay.” he chuckles, rubbing his hands up your back. “You doing okay up there?” his fingers trace down your spine. 

“I wanna lay down.” you loosen your fingers in his hair. 

“Then come lay down with me.” he starts to lift you off his mouth. “How are you feeling?” you curl against him and he pulls the covers over the both of you. 

“Good.” you press your lips to his chest. “Tired.” you look up at him and he scoots you up to press his lips to yours. “But I just wanna keep kissing you.” you start to crawl on top of him. 

“We should get some sleep.” he chuckles, digging his fingers into your waist. 

“We will.” you press your chest against his. “Later.” he groans and wraps his arms around your back. He lets his hand slide down to your ass and squeeze. “Jace,” you gasp, pressing against his cock. 

“Fuck.” he digs his fingers into you. “I think we-

“Oh,” you gasp as you rock your hips and feel him slide through your wetness. You press your lips against his and continue your movements as his fingers try to still you. “I like this.” you bury your hands in his hair. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” he kisses down your neck. “We should go to bed.” he mumbles, loosening his grip and letting you rock against him again. 

“I want more.” you whine rubbing yourself on his cock. “Jace please,” you softly plead and he lifts your hips up trailing his hand between your thighs. 

“Let me know if it’s too much okay?” you nod, burying your head in his neck. He circles his finger around your entrance before slowly pushing it in. 

“Mm,” you whimper and his breathing deepens listening to your soft noises. “Jacaerys,” your voice cracks when his thumb brushes against your bud. 

“How does it feel?” he whispers, pressing his lips to the side of your head. He listens to your small gasps and rubs his other hand on your back. “Tell me.” he coaxes, pumping his finger faster and your legs start to shake. 

“Good,” you whine. “More.” you plead and you gasp feeling a second finger pushing at your entrance. “Yes, Jace,” you moan at the stretch of the second finger and push your hips down onto his hand. 

“Your cunny feels so good.” he chuckles, starting to move his fingers faster. Your gasps become higher pitched and he smirks hearing your pleasure louder than the storm outside. 

“I want your cock.” you lift up from his neck and take in his flushed face. He pushes his fingers faster and watches your eyes close as the most ethereal sound leaves your lips “Please.” your head falls and he feels you pulse around his fingers. 

“Are you satisfied now?” he smirks as you collapse against his chest with your cunny still fluttering around his fingers.

“More.” you plead breathlessly, kissing across his chest. “Please.” you whine when his hips jerk up. 

“You’re sure?” he rolls your hips into his. 

“Yes.” you nod your head. “Please.” you whine letting him lift your hips, he grabs his cock and slides it up your slit. “Ja- mm,” he slowly presses his tip in, groaning at the way your cunny envelops him. 

“Are you okay?” he rubs your back and you nod your head. “You feel so good.” he pushes another inch in while listening to your whimpers. You softly press your hips down and whine at the stretch. 

“Jacaerys,” you whine and he holds his arm around you tighter as he starts to press into you again as you kiss across his chest. He pushes the rest of the way inside lowly cursing when your walls tighten around him. “Feels so full.” you whisper. 

“Let me know when I can move.” his breath catches when you roll your hips. “Gods,” his fingers dig into you. He slowly lifts your hips and slides you back down watching your face twist with pleasure. 

“Yes.” you shake in his arms as he starts a slow pace. 

He pumps into you listening as more whimpers spill from your mouth as you slide against his chest. He’s trying his hardest to hold off on his pleasure but the feel of you squeezing him and the sounds you make are sending him closer to the edge. You start to push your hips down to meet his and he starts to hammer up into you. 

“Jace, I,” you claw into his chest. “I’m, please, Jacaer-“ you let out a small sob as your pleasure rips through you. 

“Fuck,” he groans slamming up into once more before he spills inside of you. You’re fully collapsed on top of him as his hips still softly jerk up into you. Small whimpers come from you as he holds you closely and pets your hair. “Are you ready to go to sleep now?” he hums, lifting you off his cock. 

You nod your head and he pulls the blankets over you before wrapping his arms around your back, letting you sleep on his chest. He presses his lips against your forehead and rubs your back until he hears your even breathing when sleep takes over. 

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masterlist 🔌

noooooo dont let me fall for jace rn

taglist ✍️

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers @eternalwinters

[r3linx]

⌜char.⌟ park jongseong ⌜synhopsis⌟ reader (and me) just being down bad for jay; just plain, quick and messy rambling about him [sorry for mistakes] ⌜word count⌟ 0.7k ⌜warnings⌟ sfw, gender neutral reader, fluff, pet names [sweetheart], established relationship

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ jay was a great husband material.

no debate needed to convince you otherwise. even just a quick glance at him can tell you the fact, how much of a good person he is. we could say that he is the standard. like right now, he’s so cutely focused on chopping the vegetables on front of him, his gaze fixated on his hands as worked swiftly and with ease.

he decided to be in charge of the dinner this time, he just couldn’t bring himself to disturb you, curled up beside him on the bed, the soft sheets crumpled up under you from all your tossing around. when he turned his gaze towards you, he stopped mid-sentence as he saw your eyelids fluttered close and your breathing calm. a gentle smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, carefully easing himself out of your warm and comforting embrace, his fingers brushing a few stray locks of silky hair behind your ear as he leaned down to plant a sweet kiss to your temple.

now he was in the kitchen, black-rimmed glasses sitting at the bridge of his nose, slipping down a bit as his head was turned down, chestnut-brown hair tickling his forehead. his olive skin shining softly under the cold white lights, making his face sharper and his skin creamier. his always gentle, slim fingers when he touched you, now firmly held the knife handle, wrapping around it as he guided it. his plump pink lips were in a straight line, making his cheeks form that adorable pout he rarely showed. he was like a bright and colorful palette with beautiful colors. all his features, his quirks. made up a color, which made himself, jay irresistible.

you stood at the doorway, just admiring him when his calm voice forced you back into reality.

“-sweetheart? is everything alright? you were just sleeping when i left..” he turned his head towards you now, looking at you through the lenses. his tone was sweet as honey, it soothed your nerves and mind, every single time. you could compare it to light blue, but at the same time, there were times when it turns darker and deeper shade, just as his voice firmer and more demanding, which never failed to make you amused. and his singing voice, so smooth and almost like silk to your ears.

you could list all of these things until hours and would still find facts that you forgot to mention. his eyes so brown, to the point it just seemed black but still, it seemed bright and lively every single time you took a glance at it, full of life and happiness because of you.

and his strong arms, which you didn’t notice until this point that was already around you after quickly wiping his hands off, setting the knife aside, and making his way to you in quick, long strides. muscles defined as he held you in his embrace, one of his palm flat against the small of your back, the other carefully placed against the nape of your neck to slowly guide your head under his chin. his grasp was like burgundy. so fiery, and passionate but still holding the sweetness and the tenderness in it. he was a man filled to the brink with spirit and devotion, but his love was gentle and romantic and not unstable.

it was like he always knew what or how to act and he carried himself with courage and confidence. it resembled to lilac, for some strange reason you couldn’t help but imagine him as shades and colors. he found it absolutely ridiculous, but to you, even colors had personality even if feeling not.

“i’ll finish the dinner okay? you can go lay back..” he mumbled against your hair, his words caressing your ear as his chest gently vibrated against yours.

“i’m not tired, i want to stay…” you replied with a soft smile appearing on your face, pressing a gentle and quick peck at his neck. a faint chuckle escaped from his throat as he gently shook his head.

“then stay.. but i’m doing the work.” you nodded against him, letting go of him and stepping back aside. “you’re doing that again, right? the stuff with the colors.” he asked with a playful tilt of his head to the side but he didn’t spare you even a glance.

“maybe..”

@r3linx II do not steal, modify or translate or repost any of my works. likes and reblogs are appreciated﹗﹗

[volturissideslut]

can you do nsfw alphabets for volturi kings? sorry if this too much😭

𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖚𝖘 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎

The NSFW alphabet is longggg, so im going to do it for one character at a time. I span a wheel and got Marcus, will do the other two in another post if someone requests

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

Marcus is a love bug at heart we all know this, he almost appreciates giving aftercare just as much as sex in the first place. He definitely need to hold you close while you both come down from your highs. He'll stroke your hair and melt if you stroke his, and you'll whisper giggly little things to each other. He's also the type to trace his finger around your skin and just stare at you in love.

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

He loves his own hands, that would be his favourite on himself. Just the way his hands look when his grabbing at you. When he gently hold at your jaw to look you in the eyes. When his hands grasp your own, or play with your pretty pussy. As for his favourite on you it's a tough choice but i'm going to say thighs. Marcus likes someone who has a bit of chub on them. Plush cheeks, a soft tummy, and thighs he can grip into a kneed. If you're turned expect to have many bite marks on your inner thighs. He loves them and just can't resist. And if you're still human he loves the warmth on his mouth when he trails kisses up your inner thighs before eating you out.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Speaking of thighs, he'd love to watch his cum dripping down them. He lives for it, anywhere soft he can smear it just leaves him in awe. Some of his personal favourites include your thighs, tummy, or breasts. Something about the way it drips down you, the way you get covered, practically marked as his drives him crazy. It's relatively thin but theres a lot. Go ahead and scoop some onto your fingers and smear it on your lips or in your mouth, he'll go crazy if you don't let him fuck you again.

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

He's obsessed with you, that's no secret, but something that i personally think is that this feral man loves to sniff you. More so, your panties. That right ladies and gentlemen you heard it here first. Marcus Volturi is a secret panty sniffer.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

The only real experience he has is Didyme, but we all know what happened to her. Marcus is a sentimental man so I can imagine that between her and you he didn't sleep with anybody. He seems like the type to be incapable of casual and wants sex within a relationship rather than affairs or hookups.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary (i know i know, boring) but the way he could push down on your abdomen and feel the pressure on his cock, or the sight of his own bulge through your skin drives him crazy. He's grabbing and grasping and pinching at whatever he can on you. Even if he was eating you out he's love his head squeezed between your. thighs and his forehead resting on your tummy. Also face sitting. He loves you sat on his face and being smothered by you. He never wants it to end and its not like vampires need air.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

To him theres in nothing better than giggly romantic sex. No, he isn't going to be pulling out jokes but if something happens he's content to give a little chuckle and keep on going.

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

He has hair there, thats for sure, he just keeps it trimmed short and nice. And yes, the carpet matches the drapes.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's the most romantic person possible i think. Whispering little compliments, telling you how much he loves you, peppering your face with kisses, the whole lot. He loves setting the mood too with some candle lights and fresh flowers for you. He'll pull out all the stops, he loves how special these moments between you are.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcannon)

Not really. It's not that he's opposed to it or anything he just prefers being with you. It's never the same and when it's comparing his hand to you?? No contest there. Also i dont see him having that high of a libido, it's you that spurs him on whether that be on purpose or him just being turned on by your existence.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Marking. Marking. Marking. He lives for it. To watch his cum dripping off your body, to see bite marks on you that he knows came from him, or any mark in general really. His gripped your thigh too hard while fucking and now theres a big purple bruise? He's sorry baby :( he didn't mean to hurt you, how about he kiss it better? Then a little higher, and a little higher again? How about you sit on his face and he makes it up to you :( He also likes using restraints, like tying you to the bedpost with some cloth. You don't need your hands darling he's going yo make you feel good. You can give him one more right? Oh, yeah, right, overstimulation too. He wants to make you orgasm so may times you forget your own name, your mind goes hazy and tears bead at your eyes. All that exists in your mind is you, him, and the next orgasm he's going to rip from you. In Marcus' personal opinion: fuck edging, overstim is the way to go.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

It may seem a little unoriginal but he likes the safety of your own shared room, the walls feel like a bubble of security, the doors shut out the cold world from this warmth - but this doesn't mean he's not open to other places. One of his favourite memories is the two of you gently fucking in a lagoon. You had gone for a little wonder in nature and found a reserve, somehow ended up skinny dipping and making out in the water. One thing led to another and now he gets turned on anytime you mention going for a swim somewhere.

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

You. Just you. You bend over and he gets a great view of your ass and he's turned on. You look up at him with a little smile and he's going to die if you don't fuck right now. Your wearing a tank top because its hot but your breasts look good and he's revving to go. You give him a kiss in passing and it's not enough anymore. You're laid on top of him cuddling and theres a boner poking into your front. He's just a guy who is obsessed with his love.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He hates the idea of hurting you. While you're human he is ever so careful to not be too rough but still give you the ride of your life. He's not going to pull an Edward and run with his tail tucked between his legs but you're his reason for existence and he wants to keep you around. Even when you are turned and he knows you can keep up a part of his shrivels up inside and dies when he hears your marble skin cracking. Doesn't care if its the other way around, and will literally beg you to ride him so hard he breaks but it's a no go for him the other way around.

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

He loves oral. Especially giving, but he's never ever going to refuse receiving. If he does, have him beheaded because that's not him, he's crazy, or is no longer fit to exist - let alone be king. And as for skill? He's masters it. This man can find the clit and knows how to use it well. Not only that but he enjoys it too. Would genuinely rather spend the rest of his existence with his head between your legs than any other way.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on his mood really. If he's feeling happy and in love then its going o be a sensual pace. Not necessarily slow but not fast either. But if he' s feeling a little frustrated or angry he changes it up completely. Its fast and rough. Its sloppy and messy. It's dirty and kinky. He's biting your lip and bruising your thigh. He's getting his frustrations happy, and who's going to complain about that?

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not often, only sometimes. He much prefers longer sessions in your own privacy but he does get excited by the occasional quickie. Risky fucks getting ridden by you on his throne when anybody could walk in at any moment and catch you. His sense of professionalism flew straight out the window when you walked into his life

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Any risk to you? Absolutely not. If someone walks in during a semi public quickie he'll gauge there eyes out if they saw you. Any risk you you physically is demolished too - not that much can harm you once you're turned anyway. Any risk to him? Go ahead. Ride him so hard his legs dislocate. With your newborn strength take out you emotions on him, choke him so hard you nearly behead him. It just drives him on more. Give him a blow job while he sits in the library. He has little to no shame, doesn't even really want to be in the volturi anymore anyway but he stays out of his own choice because it benefits you.

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

Hello? He's a vampire with inhuman capabilities so he could gor for days. Throw into the mix that you're you and he's so in love and so obsessed?? You're lucky its weeks not years. Realistically the rounds don't last that long because just looking at you sets his off as it is

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't necessarily use toys but he's open to trying them if you ask. What he does have is handcuffs and belts and that type of thing to tie you up. He's also not opposed to being the one tied up. Had the shock of his life when you blindfolded him once, he almost came untouched. That was definitely tries again after

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

While he would like to tease you he is physically incapable of doing it. It feels like he's torturing himself almost because he can't have you how he wants right then and there. He likes the idea of teasing though, so it will last a couple seconds before he gives in. No need to beg - he'd love to hear you of course but its amusing how quickly he gives into your every whim and spoils you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not a grunter, yiu make him feel good and he isn't ashamed to let you hear that. But he also isn't naturally overly loud either. Ladies and gentlemen i present to you Marcus Volturi, whiner and whimperer.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

There has been multiple occasions we are not supposed to speak of when Marcus has cum untouched by you because you've teased him or overexcited him. He's got the stamina of a racehorse anyway and would rather be buried alive than leave you unsatisfied so you still get a good fuck. He's not even ashamed of it, it's just what you do to him

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He isn't small my any means, round 6 inches i'd say. His base is thick with a mushroom tip. Every inch feels good.

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

When he's going about his business it's the last thing that crosses his mind, but he catches eye of you and suddenly he's an insatiable dog. He's in your shared room and sees your underwear on the floor and suddenly if your not here in the next five seconds he's going to combust. Does it really count as jerking off if he used your panties and not his hand?

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

vampires don't really sleep, but he's so content to just lay there in bliss with you for hours afterwards.

Caius vers.

[ghostmoon1]

loooove the fact that you write for roach!!!! our bug boy needs attention too. i have an idea for him if you're interested: adopting a cat. what if he finds a small kitten somewhere where he is on a mission and decides to bring it home to his partner. just imagine everytime be comes home he's like "where is my son????" and the kitten runs to him and climbs on his pants 😭

Hello anon!!

Dearly sorry for how long this took me to write, motivation has been biting my ass lately. But this idea is adoreable, and Roach would be the best ever cat dad. I wrote a lotta this with my own cat sitting on me :D

I hope this is enough and that you enjoy!!

Cat Dad Roach

It was in the middle of a mission, walking along the streets of a small town. He was wandering at the back of the team, watching Ghost and Soap banter with each other before his eye got caught on something else in the street. He tears himself away from the team, who soon notice his disappearance. They watch from a distance as Roach slowly steps up to a small bundle of fur lying on the side of the road. His face lights up as he reaches for the small kitten, grinning ear to ear, melting a little inside at its small meow. He cradled it close to his chest, taking it back with him no matter what anyone said.

When he got back home, you were standing in the kitchen. When you heard keys in the front door and the soft padding of his boots in the hallway, you knew he was finally home, back to you. You make your way through the house, sticking your head into the doorway. 

“Welcome home baby. Missed you” you say with a smile, that smile turning into a face of confusion as you see him quietly slip his bag off his shoulder, a bundle of blankets wrapped up in his arms. You stare at him with an eyebrow raised, silently questioning him.

He slips his mask off and grins, no look of guilt to be seen. Adjusting the blanket, he speaks softly. “Found ourselves a little friend.”

He moves the blankets to the side, revealing the face of the small kitten, peacefully sleeping in his arms. “Gonna name him Steve.”

From that point on, Steve was a part of the family. There was no changing that fact, he has been adopted, and as Roach refers to him; he is now his son. And you hear about it no matter the hour, or where you both are.

Whenever he comes home from a mission, or just walks in the door from ducking down to the shops to grab some bread that you needed, he instantly drops the items on the kitchen counter, gives you a quick hug and kiss before he then struts through the house, calling out “Where’s my son?!”

He continues this for a few minutes until you can hear the tiny padder of paws against the floorboards, and a noise escaping his lips that you can only describe as pure joy. He kneels, just for Steve and lets him climb all over his clothes, it doesn’t matter if he puts pulls and claw marks all over it, they could be replaced. His beloved Steve never could.

He ends up joining you both for cuddle sessions, every single time. While Roach’s body is intertwined with yours, Steve finds his way into some spot, usually someplace on his chest, to feel his warmth radiating through him and to listen to his heartbeat, always nuzzling against him and leaking trails of cat fur.

Now, he's always thinking about his beloved son. Even when you both go out to shop. He drags you to the pet aisles, even if you complain and say that other things need to be done first. No, he is shopping for his son as well. Once you finally drag him out of the aisle, the trolley is now covered in new cat toys, some new treats to try out, a cute new bowl, and oh… don’t forget the outfits. (He also finds a roach outfit… like father like son)

[ And here is a lil drawing done by @gomzdrawfr bc we were talking about this teehee. Thank you again Gomz!! ]

He feeds Steve like he is royalty. He buys him the best foods and treats, plating the food on his assortment of bowls as if it had come from the fanciest restaurants. You have to stand in the doorway and watch as he coos over his son, watching in delight as he bounds over for his five-star meal.

[izgnanik-a]

Drunk Ghoap thoughts

Cw — absolute saps, the fluffiest fluff, downright adorable

After being together for so long, Ghost and Soap just became Simon and Johnny again. There were no ranks, no rules or regulations, no boundaries that they couldn’t cross.

They had become one. One home, one car, one soul. The only thing they hadn’t done was share a single last name. It had been a talk they had a few times, if they’d become the Riley’s or the MacTavish’s or even Riley-MacTavish — it’d be a mouthful for anyone.

They spent their long awaited breaks nestled in the other’s comfort, wading in their silences, and basking in warm mornings.

They always had each other to come back to at the end of every night.

Usually when Simon and Johnny went out for drinks with the others, one would drink and the other would be the designated driver. It was common understanding. So they alternated between which would do the driving.

This week it was Johnny’s turn to drive.

Simon kept in the booth with the others, gentle circles rubbed into Johnny’s knee beside him. It was a sort of anxiety stim he could enjoy while also touching his person. Soundless and, most times, unnoticed by others, he could reach over to check in with the other lad.

Johnny nursed a chilled can of soda, nearly being the head of conversation at the table every time. But he was warm and relaxed, loud and painted in the overhead lights.

And Simon couldn’t help but watch the side of his face. His. Johnny was all his. He would’ve never imagined that kind of thing before Johnny, never would’ve thought someone could look at him the way Johnny does. He thought he was incapable of loving someone like he loves Johnny.

Johnny.

Flickering his eyes from the table, Johnny smiled at Simon, clasping a hand over his on his knee. He rubbed up his forearm. “Alrigh’, Si?” He leaned in to speak into the side of his face.

Simon nodded. “Warm.”

Johnny, mother-hen, reached up to touched the back of his hand to Simon’s forehead. “You feel a little warm. Do you wan’ some of my bevy? Or some water?”

Simon watched him reach across the table to the pitcher, pouring globs of ice and water into a cup, and bringing it to Simon’s chest. He took it in hand, though he didn’t want it, and lowered his mask to sip. He set it down but not before dragging his mask back in place.

It’s not like everyone hadn’t seen his face already , those who sat at the table were trusted friends and work companions. But the mask was comfort, it was safe and warm, and smelt like Johnny’s detergent.

Johnny watched Simon put his glass down. “Better?”

Simon peered into his eyes, glancing back and force, and nodded. Eyes so full of hearts, Johnny could’ve sworn the man was just about to re-confess his feelings for him. He leaned forward, bumping his head against Johnny’s temple, and keening like a purring cat when Johnny gave his jaw a squeeze.

If he could, Simon would tuck his face into Johnny’s neck and sleep there. Curl up in his collarbones, sleep over his heart, and watch the world go by him.

His love was exponential, overflowing, and overwhelming. But he was soft and sweet, gentle when it came to Johnny.

Simon found himself leaning into Johnny’s side when he sat forward, first with his hand on his spine, rubbing up and down. Then dropped that hand on the other side of him, leaning his cheek against the back of Johnny’s shoulder. Johnny’s voice and laughter vibrated in his ribs, echoing against Simon’s face.

If Simon could show any indication that he was in love, it would be him resting his eyes and his head on Johnny’s back while Johnny leaned his forearms on the table unbothered. There was no greater sign of complete and utter devotion and vulnerability than that.

Johnny’s soothing touches broke Simon from his drowsy trance, rubbing his shin softly before squeezing his hand under Simon’s outer thigh. He looked up at his partner with a lazy smile. “Tired?”

Simon nodded softly.

“Wanna go home?”

“I don’t want to take you from this.”

“It’s late. Dinnae think they mind.” Johnny insisted. “Come on.” He patted Simon’s thigh before turning to the table to say their departing ado’s.

Hand in hand, they left the pub with the night sheathed over them, and a slight sway in both of their steps.

“Did you have a good night?” Johnny asked.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Johnny pulled into his side at the crosswalk. “Anything fer you.” Kissing the exposed skin beside Simon’s mask, he looked up at the man knowing he couldn’t resist a proper kiss.

Simon’s mask was already unhooked from one ear the moment he settled back on his heels, and he was leaning in to steal a kiss.

Johnny hummed in contentment. “Let’s get you home.” He smiled against Simon’s mouth, “Then you can show yer gratitude ‘ta me in plenty ways.”

Simon’s face broke into a slight smile, only growing as Johnny chuckled against his tongue. He clasped both hands on Johnny’s neck before pulling away. “Promise?”

Johnny wrapped his arm around Simon’s back and lead them towards the car.

[kisses4kuna]

reader who's afraid of the dark and needs a nightlight to sleep, but refuses to tell a soul next it's embarrassing. satoru x reader & modern/no curses au.

when your boyfriend, satoru, asks to stay the night, you've always come up with every excuse in the book, every lie your mind can think of just to be able to get him to leave your home or be able to leave his.

until one night, you two are hanging out at his house, sitting on his living room floor.

there's a blanket laid out and you've both just been eating snacks, watching youtube and talking, and now it's nearing midnight.

“i should probably go home soon.” you say as you check your phone, realizing just how long you've been here and just how late it is.

“why not just stay the night?” satoru replies, attempting to give you puppy-eyes so you'll fold. (and you hate the fact that it's working.)

you're about to cave but you remember your unshakeable fear of the dark. for a moment, you consider just coming clean and telling satoru, but all you can imagine as a reaction is his laugh, how he'd mock you and call you pathetic. you know your boyfriend would never treat you like that, yet you still find yourself scared.

“babe? you still there?” he asks, a small grin on his face as he gently shakes your shoulder.

you grow slightly flustered at the nickname. despite having been with him for a few months now, he still manages to steal your heart all over again with the little things he does.

“yeah, i can't stay the night 'cause..” you attempt to think of an excuse that he won't be able to refute, but your mind is suddenly at a blank.

“'caaause?” he drags on, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

you realize if you make any excuse now, he'll know it's a lie. and the last thing you want is for him to assume you feel the need to lie just so you won't have to be around him, so you decide to come clean.

“don't laugh, but i can't stay the night because i'm afraid of the dark. i have a nightlight at home and i can't sleep without it.” you immediately look down at the blanket, bracing yourself for his laughing and taunts, but you're met with silence.

you look up at him hesitantly, startled and almost threatened by his silence.

“is that why you never let me stay over and always leave whenever i ask you to stay here?” he asks, genuine surprise etched onto his beautiful features.

“yes...” you reply meekly, a little embarrassed that he had clearly noticed your clear avoidance in the past.

suddenly he lets out a laugh, but it's not the malicious, pitiful one you thought it'd be. it's playful and lighthearted.

“well why didn't you tell me sooner? we can keep the hall light on and crack the bedroom door so you can still see, hell, we can sleep with the lights on if you really wanna. i just wanna be with you, silly. i couldn't care less if you need a little light.” at hearing his words, you start to forget and even wonder what in the world made you so scared to tell your dear boyfriend of your fear? of course he'd handle it with such care, just as he's done with you throughout the entire relationship, what made you think otherwise?

---

bro idk how to end this so uhhh yeah also ik this is lwk dog water.... BUT IT'S MY FIRST REAL WORK be nice guys 😣😣

[lunaandco]

get him back

pairing: gavi x ofc

summary: jimena sees her ex at a party. she does not shy away from the reunion.

taglist: @htpssgavi ; @joaosnovia

masterlist // I do not take requests

Jimena did not leave her home with the idea of ending up tangled on Gavi's sheets. She did not even think of meeting him when she met her friends at the only club in her small town. It was just some local festivity, and all the young people had had the same idea.

Jimena wanted to get drunk, find a nice guy to make out with and disappear into the night with her friends. But rumours spread fast, and soon she caught wind of who was also at the club.

Gavi wasn't known for going to parties, Jimena wa pretty sure that the last time he had stepped on this same club had been by her side, when they were still dating and his debut in first division was still a dream.

Jimena had reached a point in which she did not think of him for longer than she needed to. Only when the World Cup happened, she saw his face evrywhere she went. And she knew everyone around her saw him too. Jimean felt the glances everyone directed at her whenever something newsworthy happened.

Gavi socred a goal for Spain? The guys at the bar noticed if she celebrated or not. There were rumours that prnicess Leonor had a crush on him? Some lady at the supermarket asked her what it was like to have had what the royalty wanted. Even when he got injured, some tried to ask her if he was alright.

Gavi and Jimena had broken up before he even made it to the first team. She wanted to be someone's first choice, and his first choice would always be Barcelona, or the countless hot girls he had been rumoured to be dating.

As insidious as it was, Jimena was glad that the general public considered some random tiktoker to be Gavi's first love: if it was already annoying to be known as his ex only in their small town, she could not concieve how much bullshit she woud have to go through if the rest of the world knew.

However, Jimena was completely over Gavi. She had cried all the tears she had to, she had buried their pictures in a box and kissed half a dozen of other boys as a rebound. Her eyes should not linger on his silouhette when she finally spotted him, the lights of the club reflecting on his clothes. Her heart should not beat when she found his gaze already on her.

Jimena turned around, searching for Nacho. He was a guy she had been stringing around for a while, who she had no intention to actually date, but who would be perfect for her half threader plan.

Nacho was not too far away. He always made a point of being close to Jimena, and when her very famous ex was around, it was not the time to slack off.

Nacho's hand fell on her hip, covered by a shirt purple dress. The Jimena Gavi knew would not have worn something so daring, but the Gavi Jimena knew would not have shown up at the club on his own volition.

Nacho pressed their bodies together, swaying at the rhythm of the baf quality song that was on the TOP50, while his eyes lifted up.

"Your ex is staring," he said. Jimena sighed. She didn't need to look up to know, she could feel the weight of Gavi's eyes on her skin.

"I imagine he is," she said, non-committal.

"I can't believe I am going to sleep with Gavi's ex," he said. Jimena froze in place. That sentence did not sit well with her.

"Excuse me?"

"It's like, the biggest power trip of my life."

Jimena took a step froward trying to get rid of Nacho's hands on her body.

"Actually, I don't think this is a good idea..."

"Aw, c'mon! You're going to leave me like this?"

"I don't want to..." insisted Jimena, taking another step away and clashing with someone.

"I would advice you to leave the girl alone."

Gavi.

His voice was lower, his hand came up to hold her hip. Jimena stopped breathing. How was it possible that he had slipped through the crowd so quickly?

She then noticed that most people around them had stopped dancing. She spotted a couple of phone camera pointed towards them. She shivered, her skin crawling with discomfort.

"Ha. You don't want me to make a scene, do you?" bluffed Nacho. "They wouldn't like that back in you separatist club."

Gavi clenched his jaw, his grip on Jimena tightening.

"Let's go, he said softly on her ear."

Jimena shivered, but allowed herself to be led by Gavi away from the crowd, away from the phones pointing at them. She tried to spot her friends, but she couldn't understand the colored lights, and soon they were back on the open air.

"What the fuck was that?" she asked him.

"You tell me that," Gavi snapped.

"Since when do you go to clubs?"

"Since I'm searching for you?"

"Why would you do that?"

"Because you still have me blocked on everything and I wanted to talk to you?"

"Why would you—?"

Gavi cut their argument short by grabbing her face and pressing their lips together. Jimena froze for a minute, but then she returned the kiss with the intensity they both craved.

"I wanted to get you back," he explained once they parted. "I... have matured a but since the last time we were together and well, I realised I made quite a big mistake by letting you go."

Jimena scoffed.

"Oh, my God," she said. "I'm going to punch you in your pretty face so hard you won't be able to play for weeks."

He smirked.

"If I can spend those weeks with you, I'll call it a win."

Jimena bit her lip, but spotted that people were leaving the club, searching for Gavi, for them.

"I would love to do that in a place where people are not recording us," she offered, and Gavi laughed, pulling her towards the parking.

"I'll see what I can do."

[veryinnovative]

when you are the last existing specimen of your alien race but gets so flustered when it comes to physical touch bc it's a sensation you've never felt before. also it's been millennia since everyoen on your home planet went exist and now you're under the assumption you're being courted by a HUMAN. i loive this. i need to inject this into my BLOODSTREAM

i need 2 take this step by step and i really like the idea of viktor adapting to all his new senses. he has the toddler habit of touches everything and putting it in his mouth, especially because he doesn;t quite know what is considered edible. i think he should give jayce a little nibble. this man doesn't wake up even if the whole world comes crashing down so viktor is deffo...giving his pinky or arm a little humble lick. wonders why it's salty. [he hasnt showered in days]

jayce having to dress viktor is so funny bc he picks some clothes up and gives them to viktor who absolutely has no idea what to do with those and cait is like 'i think you need to help him' and jayce is just muttering under his breath not please and. And. kinda annoyed when viktor doesn't let go of the blanket. little tug of war going on. like what the hell!! that's so against viktor's alien code of conduct!! like viktor scowling at jayce and jayce just scoffs like 'what are you frowning at me for?!' and he yanks the blanket out of viktor's hand,, who immediately sulks while jayce swiftly helps him dress. the sullen look ofc doesnt go unnoticed bc it's as u say..jayce wraps the damn blanket around him immediately which seems to appease viktor immensely.

ALSO LMAO cait: dont sleep with the alien

jayce: I SHANT!!!!

jayce, a while later: but what if in the name of science...

he's attracted to an alien it's so fucking over for him. lights flickering, jayce is like 'sorry i know it hurts' oblivious to viktor having the exact same crisis as him

i need this injected into me im SO SERIOUS. miscommunication trope but jayce has no idea that the lights flickering mean that viktor is So into him, even if his expression betrays very little.

and the thing is. a lot of touching will be done. like jayce doesnt really have a medical background but he's doing checkups bc its not like he can bring viktor to a fucking doctor. he's touching his face, cupping his jaw, very intently watching viktor for signs of pain bc viktor can't talk or say it himself. he very much figures out what pain is when jayce applies pressure to his back and leg and watches viktor contort from the pain. this doesnt result in a gradual flicker but the fucking lantern outside his apartment goes out,, the light BURSTING when v groans in pain and clutches to his leg. i think pain in a human body is x1000 worse and so he's far more receptive to it bc it's a foreign feeling too.

jayce a little freak-out moment who quickly goes to comfort him bc he can imagine that genuinely everything is new to viktor who simple doesn't know how to control his abilities yet in this new vessel + everything must be overwhelming, too. courting gift #2: jayce makes viktor a brace for his injured leg (this fic is just 5+1 the five times viktor assumed jayce was courting him and the one time he actually does)

OKAY BUT TEACHING VIKTOR HOW TO TALK? like they're sitting opposite to each other on jayce's bed,, viktor's bad leg cushioned on a soft pillow. jayce pointing to himself and going 'jayce.' 'j-a-y-c-e' and then he points at various other items to tell their name but also at a bowl of kraft mac and cheese and going 'food' before going back to himself and going 'jayce' and mostly viktor just stares at him and jayce cant help but feel defeat at some point like. 'maybe he isn't as intelligent of a creature as i thought....' so he's rubbing his face, his hair, eyes closed tryign to think very hard about the next course of action before he hears a very raspy 'v....vi-' coming and his eyes snap open and v just,, struggles to use his vocal chords for the first time and conjures as 'vik...tor....' while pointing to himself. and it's the first time in DAYS/WEEKS jayce allows himself to laugh, even if it's in triumph. and the light inside the room flickers when he smiles and he goes to reach out and hold v by his shoulders and goes 'viktor!' and god it's becoming very bright in the room and he lets go quickly like.. 'sorry,sorry. i just. got really excited. viktor. yes. Viktor' and wow there goes the flicker of the light again because how many millennia has it been someone uttered viktor's name. especially like that?

im gonna eat glass

okay so for alien!viktor do we think that jayce was messing with hexcore/tech and that’s what brought viktor into his world? or do we think hexcore is something that pops into existence alongside viktor? or it’s like kryptonite for him??? or something else??? omg my brain is quivering i am so close to abandoning all my responsibilities just to churn out a fic w this concept auuuuUgH 🗣️

me dropping my work immediately after receiving this msg:

ok. Okay. i think . jayce uncovers hexcore/tech and tinkers with it, not knowing that a certain rune sequence in combination with, i don't know, a certain component (time of the day. maybe also blood. whatever it may be. some other artifact they once retrieved, etc etc) triggers it to activate as this one-way passage that pretty much DRAGSSSS viktor to earth in jayce's lab. mayhaps he arrives in a vegetative state as we discussed and comes to be in a span of a few days while jayce studies him/tries not to freak out/refuses to sleep for the entirety of said x days

curious tall alien viktor crawling over jayce......who is sprawled on the floor bc he tripped nd fell in his shock... you know how we as humans can coo on small beings nd just wanna. Touch. that is viktor. jayce also mistakes his thrumming sound for like,, him wanting to Eat/Kill him or smth and tries not to pass out.....vik's long talon-like fingers carefully dragging down jayce's scalp to his face...to his neck......the pad gently pressing into his pulse there bc what is this curious jack-rabbit-y feel.....

anyways...ANYWAYS.. [pulling up a google docs for us]

[nestedfeathers]

CAT NAP! my favorite KitKat rn. wanna squish his wittle cheeks

i imagine he gets grumpy if you wake him up during a nap...

'SH. ... is it so hard for a cat to get a nap around here?"

[pvpcivilization]

ok im going to bed bc its late as hell here but i wanted to doodle parkciv finally

[khioneee]

tap out. pt ii.

warnings. mentions of death, emotional distress, grief and loss, pregnancy.

a few years later, another tap-out ceremony arrives, but this time, the air feels different—heavier, somber. simon’s been gone for over a year, his deployment unexpectedly extended due to an incident overseas. you’d been told he couldn’t come home for a while, but that didn’t make the waiting any easier.

today, you stand among families who aren’t just here to tap out their loved ones but to say goodbye to those who didn’t make it home. tears stream down faces as loved ones gather around caskets, grieving the soldiers they’d lost. the sight fills you with a mix of dread and relief, knowing simon is still out there, waiting.

simon stands in formation, rigid as always, but he has a sense for you. before you even appear in his line of sight, he knows you’re near. but imagine his surprise when he catches a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision, a small bundle wrapped securely in your arms.

his heart hammers in his chest, quickening as he realizes what this means. his breath catches, his eyes fixed on you as you approach. you look up at him, your eyes sparkling, a knowing smile on your face as you watch the subtle changes in his expression—the slight twitch of his eyebrows, the way his breathing picks up as it dawns on him.

both of you had been trying for a baby before he left, and now, standing before him, you hold that precious life in your arms. it had been a struggle going through pregnancy without him, feeling his absence during every kick and every sleepless night. but seeing him now, looking more than ready to meet your child, all the pain fades away, replaced by a joy so profound it fills every inch of you.

‘daddy’s home,’ you whisper softly, tilting the blanket so simon can see her tiny face, fast asleep, a perfect mirror of him in miniature. she’s got his nose, his quiet strength already etched into her tiny features.

with tears in your eyes, you reach up, your hand finding his cheek, tapping him out in the gentlest of touches.

the moment your hand connects, simon moves, breaking formation as he pulls both of you into his arms, holding you close as if he’ll never let go. his voice is thick with emotion, barely a whisper as he murmurs, ‘my loves.’

you knew your husband had a reputation in the military—a man as cold and unyielding as steel, a fortress no one could break. but as he held you and your newborn in his arms, that carefully built facade cracked, revealing a vulnerable side of him that only you ever saw. the tough soldier was gone, replaced by a man whose heart lay entirely with his family.

‘do you want to hold her?’ you ask softly, watching his eyes light up with a blend of surprise and joy.

‘her?’ he whispers, voice catching on the single word, as if it’s almost too much for him to believe.

you nod, smiling through a haze of happy tears. ‘her.’

with slow, reverent movements, you pass your daughter to him, watching as she looks impossibly tiny cradled in his strong arms. simon looks down at her with a mixture of wonder and fierce protectiveness, as though he’s already memorizing every detail of her face.

as if sensing her father’s gaze, the baby yawns, a soft little sound that makes simon’s eyes shine with awe. you catch the faintest smile pulling at his lips, a rare, tender expression that he reserves only for moments like this.

he leans down, pressing his lips gently to her forehead. ‘never gonna let anything happen to you,’ he murmurs, voice thick with love and quiet promise.

while simon was lost in his quiet moment with your daughter, a loud shout cut through the air, breaking the peaceful silence.

‘is that our baby i see?!’

simon’s head snapped up, his expression immediately shifting to something harder. he turned to see soap grinning widely, practically bouncing with excitement. with a sigh, simon reached over and smacked the back of soap’s head, though his movements were careful not to jostle the sleeping baby in his arms.

‘there’s people grieving, you idiot,’ simon muttered, but soap only snickered, completely unfazed.

‘and what do you mean, ‘our’? she’s y/n’s and mine. you’re not part of this relationship, mate,’ simon added, his tone dripping with mock irritation.

but soap, undeterred, just ignored him and held out his hands, wiggling his fingers in a display of exaggerated excitement. ‘oh, come on! let me hold our child!’

simon groaned, looking down at you with a glance that seemed to ask, ‘do i really have to put up with this?’ but he couldn’t hide the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as soap’s enthusiasm filled the air around you.

reluctantly, and with another sigh, simon finally leaned over, carefully passing your daughter to soap, though not without a low, ‘if you don’t keep her calm, you’re not holding her again.’

soap just grinned, taking her into his arms as if he’d won the lottery, cradling her gently and cooing softly.

soon after, the rest of task force 141 gathered around, drawn by the excitement, each member eager to catch a glimpse of the new addition to the family.

you and simon stood to the side, watching with cautious eyes as they took turns holding her, each one adopting a careful gentleness you wouldn’t have expected from hardened soldiers.

price held her with a proud grin, murmuring something about ‘training her to be the next captain,’ while gaz made her giggle softly with his gentle cooing. even the usually reserved roach softened as he held her, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

you glanced up at simon, watching his face as he stood beside you, arms crossed in a show of casual indifference.

but you knew him too well. beneath the mask of stoicism, there was something warmer, a subtle softness in his gaze as he watched his team, his family, sharing this moment with him. this gruff, unbreakable soldier, who had once thought he’d lost everything, had found a new family among them, one that shared in his joys and sorrows alike.

reaching over, you took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. he didn’t say anything, just gave your hand a quick squeeze in return, a quiet acknowledgment. but you could see it in his eyes, that gratitude for a family he never expected to find—a family that had now become part of yours.

[makoodles]

ミi hear you like magic? i've got a wand and a rabbit!

part one | part two

🍓 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, size kink, inexperienced!reader, first time blow jobs, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, riding, jealous ghost, some communication issues!

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

The problem with sleeping with a man like Ghost, you’re coming to realise, is that now that you’ve experienced the reality of sex (and good sex) you can’t stop thinking about it.

In the week following the night you’d spent together, you swear you can feel his phantom touch on your hips, your thighs, your back. It feels like he’s carved a space for himself inside of you, something you’ll never get back – not that you want it back in the first place. 

Realistically, you know that the whole ‘loss of virginity’ thing doesn’t have as much to do with how you’re feeling as the fact that it was Ghost who had taken it. You had long bullied your hymen out of the way with your collection of silly dildos, but nothing could have prepared you for the scorching hot heat of Ghost’s massive cock splitting you open, or his clever tongue licking at you, or his thick calloused fingers rubbing torturous circles into your clit and fraying your nerves apart.

The worst part is, you don’t know if anything is ever going to live up to the way he made you feel again. You’ve tried to replicate his touches, his rhythm, the way he had split you open, but your fingers are too small and none of your dildos can imitate the way he had worked you stupid. To your immense dissatisfaction, you don’t even come close to coming again.

It feels like something inside of you has cracked open, and you don’t know how to stop all of this new yearning, how to stuff it all back inside and pretend that nothing has changed.

The problem is that while you feel as though you’ve been changed from the inside out, you don’t think Ghost feels the same way. Maybe the most infuriating thing is that Ghost seems entirely unaffected. Other than a couple of lingering glances and knowing stares, there’s no indication that he had done anything more intimate with you than grappling at training. 

All you can do is attempt to follow his lead, to be as casual as possible.

It’s harder than it sounds.

You find your whole body straining towards him when he’s close to you, though you try to keep cool. You fail miserably. You can’t even look in Ghost’s direction without thinking of his big fingers hooked inside you, rubbing at your clit, squeezing at your tits. You can hardly look him in the eye without thinking of the way he looked when he was squeezed between your thighs with his mouth on your cunt, the way those big brown eyes watched as you writhed on his tongue.

And yet, you can hardly tear your eyes away from him. You look at him in a completely different light now. He’s the first man to take you, the first one to touch you so intimately, the first one to make you come. He’s still your lieutenant, but it’s like all of a sudden your eyes have been opened to a new aspect of him. He’s no longer just your untouchable superior, the man who’s always so cold and distant behind that death mask – now he’s the man who was gentle with you, the man who kissed you sweetly when he took your virginity, the man who gave you the first, second, third orgasm of your life.

But despite the way you had been offered that new little glimpse into Ghost, he still remains an enigma to you. 

You can feel his eyes on you throughout the week, though it’s never at the same time as when you’re looking at him. And maybe you’re imagining it, but it seems as though he’s gotten freer with his touches, too. A big palm on the small of your back as he steps past you, a quick squeeze to the shoulder. It’s subtle, and you can’t be sure that he’s actually touching you anymore than usual.

But other than the subtle glances and the light touches, Ghost doesn’t make any genuine effort to approach you again. He still treats you like just another member of the squad, no different to Soap or Gaz. 

If anything, he gives them more attention than he gives you, delivering his deadpan jokes and exchanging quips during training. You end up standing to the side, sending infrequent glances their way in the hopes that he’ll give you something.

You’ve never been the fittest or the strongest, but your level of distraction in those few days following your night with Ghost is absolutely mortifying. You’re slow, you’re clumsy, you mess up everything. 

You don’t think you can be blamed when you’re working in the same space as Ghost. You can hardly bring yourself to look his way when he’s lifting weights, unable to handle looking at the flex and curl of his muscles under his long-sleeve black workout shirt. It clings to him, letting you see every little shift of muscle and tendon beneath that stupid top as he works, and your mind very unhelpfully provides a slideshow of memories of him between your spread thighs. 

You know it’s obvious. You glance at him, then glance away, then back again. Your eyes linger, bright and too interested, before you’re able to hide it. You wonder sometimes if your yearning is obvious on your face; you hope not.

But if Ghost sees it – any of it – he gives no indication. 

If you have to be honest with yourself, you’ll admit that you’re disappointed. You had hoped that– well. You’re not sure you can bear to admit what you’d hoped, even just to yourself. It feels silly to admit that maybe you had hoped that Ghost wouldn’t be content with just being your first, that maybe he’d want to be your second, your third. Silly. Almost blasphemous.

You don’t technically have to show up to training, so after only two days of your awkward and uncertain pining in the gym, you stop showing up. The role you fulfil as part of the 141 is a non-combat one, so you know you won’t be missed in their ongoing training. You’ve mostly been working in communications; maintaining secure communication channels and ensuring that information is transmitted accurately and securely. The boys rely on you in the field, and you feel like you owe them a certain level of physical fitness just in case things go frighteningly wrong when you’re out there with them. 

There’s just something so mortifying about the whole situation. It feels as though Ghost had peeled back the layers of you and taken a peek at your soft unprotected insides. You’d been vulnerable in front of him in a way you’d never been in front of anyone before, in a way that you can hardly stand. You had thought that you’d been okay with it being a one time thing, but you weren’t exactly doing a whole lot of thinking at the time.

So yeah, every time he glances away from you, or when he doesn’t even bother to look in your direction at all, it feels like you’re being rejected anew. It’s…. It’s not ideal. But you’re a big girl, and you’ve dealt with repressed desire and stifled yearning for years now. At least now you have a real experience to add to your reserve of imagination the next time you try to get yourself off.

It’s fine. You convince yourself that you were being ridiculous in the first place. He’s Ghost, after all. You feel a little foolish for even having the brief hope that something more might happen between the two of you. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You manage to keep to yourself for most of the week, and the rest of the squad is kind enough not to say anything about it. But when Thursday comes around, you realise it’s not going to be possible to avoid Soap and his persistent insistence that you join them all in the moderately-sized cantina for drinks that night.

Truthfully, it doesn’t take too much persuading to convince you to go. Avoiding training with the squad had resulted in a week of isolation that had left you lonely and wishing for some social interaction. Besides, you’ve never quite been able to say no to Soap, and so you’re dragged to the little cantina for the second Thursday in a row.

To your absolute bewilderment, you find yourself in the exact same position as you had been in the last time you shared drinks with the squad, exactly one week ago. 

Despite hardly speaking to you all week, Ghost had so confidently taken a seat next to you on the same fucking squishy little couch that you had shared last week. You end up partially squashed into the arm of the sofa, with Ghost’s massive hulking body brushing against you with every slight movement. 

It’s galling to admit it, but you feel like you’re on fire. He doesn’t say much other than a soft murmur of a greeting when he first settles down beside you, but then he throws his arm around the back of the couch in a move that’s unexpectedly intimate. 

You try not to read too much into it. While Ghost may be fairly aloof and menacing to those that don’t know him well, to you and the squad he’s always been subtly territorial. His eyes flick around the room semi-regularly, never at ease even in the middle of base. When Gaz goes to get drinks, Ghost’s eyes follow him until he gets back as though he’s expecting something to happen in the few minutes and couple of feet that he’s gone. He does the same when Price steps out for a smoke, and when Soap steps out to the toilet.

So the arm behind you (technically resting on the back of the couch rather than your shoulders) doesn’t actually mean anything. The curious look that Soap sends you doesn’t mean anything either, and you studiously ignore it as you force yourself to relax at Ghost’s side.

You drink the vodka soda Gaz hands you a little quicker than you mean to – maybe it’s because your nerves are already set on edge, but the alcohol goes to your head. Quickly. 

It’s a pleasant floaty feeling, and it eases some of the anxiety that’s been bubbling thanks to the heat that sinks into your skin from his side pressed up against you. By the time you drain your glass, you’re leaning against his side. He doesn’t react, for better or worse; you wish he would give you some indication of where you stand, whether he likes you bundled up by his side or if he’s just tolerating it.

When Ghost’s eyes finally slide over to you from behind the dark pits of his mask, you nearly jolt. His gaze is lazy and half-lidded, but he reaches out to take the glass from you. His gloved fingers brush over yours, and you can’t stifle the embarrassing little judder that runs down your spine.

“Slow down.” He murmurs, setting the glass aside. “It’s still early.”

You had been hoping all damn evening that he would just look at you, but now that you finally have his eyes on you it feels as though you’re pinned down by them. You try not to squirm, once again remembering the way those dark eyes had watched you so darkly as he had hunched over you, rutting into you until the tears were streaming down your cheeks.

Your mind goes blank under his attention and his closeness, the ambient noise of glasses clinking and loud voices laughing and joking and muffled old eighties tunes fading to nothing until the sound of Soap’s loud voice brings you back to yourself.

“Let the lass drink, LT.” He crows, grinning, and you realise that he already has another couple of drinks in his hands. You hadn’t even noticed him leaving for the bar. “She deserves to have fun tonight. Don’t you, bonnie?”

“Sure.” You agree easily, relieved by the distraction and already reaching for the new drink. You’re still all fidgety and distracted, eager to drown yourself in it. “I deserve fun.”

It feels as though Ghost’s gaze is burning right into the side of your head, but you fixedly ignore him. He’s so intense, you’re pretty sure that you look like a dazed idiot under the weight of his attention. It’s the most he’s looked at you all week, and you attempt to hide your face behind your glass as you take a sip of your fresh drink.

He’s drinking too, though he’s foregone his usual whiskey in favour of a dark lager that he’s barely touched. The glass is sweating with condensation, and he swipes a thick gloved thumb over the fog on it absent-mindedly as he watches you.

You watch Gaz and Soap as they joke with each other, trading jibes and jabs and stories that you hardly even hear. It feels a little as though your ears have been filled with cotton wool, as though everything around you is just distinctly muffled. You feel like you’re on another planet, awareness tethered only by the hot, hard line of Ghost’s muscular body pressed against your side. 

Over the last week, you’ve tried very hard not to be a stereotype.

You’ve heard men laughing about girls they’ve slept with who’ve become too clingy, who’ve wanted too much, and wasted their time searching for something that those guys aren’t willing to give. Maybe it’s because you’re so conscious that Ghost has taken several of your firsts, but you’re so determined to not be that person. 

Ghost isn’t exactly a big talker anyway, unless it’s the odd sarcastic comment or ribbing with Soap, so it’s not like you’ve talked about the situation. You had just awoken the morning after with a deep ache in your core and a sore back, though the pain was soothed by the warm embrace you were all wrapped up in. You had been nervous, but you needn’t have been. Ghost had given you nothing. He just rubbed your back with one shovel-sized hand and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder (through the mask, so you don’t know what to make of that) before he rolled out of your bed to pull his trousers back on, grunting that he’d see you later.

So, you don’t talk about it. Not with him, and not with anybody. It feels like so much has changed, yet everything stays the same. The deja vu you’re experiencing from sitting on the couch drinking with him like this is overwhelming, and experiencing him staring at you like this after a full week of distance is making you feel hot and fuzzy and stupid.

While Soap is in the midst of a loud and enthusiastic retelling of a story from his basic training days, you build up the courage to glance up at Ghost. He’s already looking at you, as though anticipating your attention. 

“You’re staring at me.” You mumble, your fingers clenching compulsively around your chilled glass.

Ghost shifts, and you feel the thick muscle of his bicep roll behind your head. He grunts in quiet agreement. 

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t say anything else, uninterested in justifying or explaining himself. It’s like he thinks that he doesn’t need to; he just keeps watching you, his light blond eyelashes drawing low over his eyes as his head tilts.

Self-conscious under his intensity, you glance away again. Soap is still talking, but you can’t focus. Despite the fact that Ghost is big and warm and so frustratingly attractive beside you, it’s hard to ignore the subtle prickle of irritation that’s growing under your skin. 

After all, he had taken your virginity and then proceeded to act as though nothing at all had changed between you for the rest of the week, and now he’s sat next to you with his gaze that heated? What the fuck?

The second drink goes down even easier than the first thanks to your awkwardness. You’re not sure what to make of his attention – you’ve spent the whole week keeping a sense of distance, determined to stay cool and casual. The last thing you want to do is freak him out by seeming like an over-eager idiot that’s gone and fallen in too deep with him, unwilling to lose whatever meagre respect Ghost has developed for you since you started working with the 141.

“I’ll get the next round.” You blurt suddenly, pushing yourself up off the couch.

It’s too abrupt to be casual, and you pointedly don’t look at the half-full glasses in your squad mates’ hands as you hurry away. You probably could have played that off better, but you need a moment to collect yourself away from Ghost’s relentless stare.

You take the opportunity to breathe at the bar, rubbing at your eyes and sighing. The bartender is busy, so you just stand there for a long moment, mentally chastising yourself.

God, this is just embarrassing. You’re a grown fucking woman, and here you are getting so ridiculously flustered over your lieutenant. You never thought that you’d be the type to turn into a silly little mess over the first man you ever sleep with, but maybe it was inevitable. The little embers of that crush you had been harbouring on Ghost since you joined the team have been fanned into a full on flame and you hardly know how to handle yourself.

It takes a significant effort to keep your attention away from the table; you can’t help but want to look, to see if Ghost is still looking your way, but you keep your eyes to yourself. 

When another body appears at your side, you jolt in surprise. You hadn’t expected to be followed, and your first thought is that it must be Soap. But when you glance to your side, you find a stranger standing closer to you than you expected.

Well, he’s not a total stranger. You know him to see around the base, sandy-haired with a too wide smile. You think he might be a second lieutenant, but you’ve never actually had any dealings with him and you can’t think of a name… Daniels, maybe?

“Hello there,��� He says, and even with those two words his intentions are unmistakable. His tone is suggestive, as is the way his eyes scan over your body. “How you doing?”

It’s far from the first time you’ve been hit on by men; it comes with the territory of being a woman in a male-dominated environment. They look at you like they want to eat you sometimes, in a way that sets your teeth on edge. You’ve always danced around the subject of intimacy, embarrassed about your lack of experience and too anxious to actually seek out anyone to change that. What happened with Ghost was unexpected, and just about changed your entire outlook on sex and physical pleasure for life. 

Your first reaction, as always, is to shut him down or ignore him. But something makes you pause, and glance back at him. 

He’s sort of cute. A charming smile, at least. When he sees you looking back, he only smiles wider and steps closer.

“Let me get this next one for you,” He says, gesturing at the bartender to catch his attention. “What’re you having?”

“Uh..” You hesitate a moment, biting your lip. “Vodka soda.”

He orders, then leans against the bar and turns to face you fully. His gaze is appreciative, and for once you don’t shy away from it. You so rarely return male attention that you hardly know what to do, but you manage to muster up an awkward smile.

When the bartender returns with your drink, you feel a momentary pang of guilt. You had almost forgotten that you were meant to order drinks for the table, and you send a swift glance over your shoulder. 

The boys are still engrossed in their conversation, hardly even noticing your absence. All but Ghost.

The lieutenant has half-turned, his arm still slung over the couch where you had been sitting as he stares. The realisation that his eyes are still on you has your spine straightening, self-conscious now about your posture and your body language. 

You look away swiftly, and try not to feel guilty. You’re not doing anything wrong, after all. He hasn’t spoken to you all week despite the fact that he’d nearly done your back in fucking you.

Your experience with Ghost may have been a one-time thing, no matter what you might have been hoping for, but there’s no reason that it has to be a one-time thing for you with anyone else. Even with your stupid vibrators and dildos, you haven’t been able to come close to coming in the week following your night with your lieutenant. You’re starting to wonder if maybe you’re not capable of coming without someone else’s hands on you.

“I’ve seen you around, been meaning to talk to you,” Daniels is saying, and in your distraction you almost miss it. “But it’s, uh… it’s a little difficult to catch you alone.”

You almost scoff, but you manage to swallow it back down. You know exactly what he means; the 141 sticks together and looks out for each other, but it also sometimes feels like you have a couple of overprotective guard dogs. They take watching you seriously, probably due to your non-combat role on the team, and you’ve never discouraged it because you like the way they make you feel safe. 

“Yeah, the guys can be a little protective.” You laugh a little weakly. “But don’t mind them.”

Even now, you can feel Ghost’s dark eyes burning into you from across the room. You wonder how on earth Daniels remains so unaware of it.

“Mm,” Daniels leans in, his white teeth glinting. “Can’t blame them, I suppose. Why don’t you come and join me and some of the lads at our table for a bit? Spend some time with some new people.”

You shift on the balls of your feet, thinking. Admittedly, you’ve never been big on socialising when on base, other than the usual minor exchange of pleasantries. You hardly even know what to do in the face of a man’s interest in you now.

“Oh, I’m not sure.” You demur, reaching up to scratch absently behind your ear. “I don’t think the boys would appreciate me abandoning them for the night.”

Daniels’ smile widens, and you feel your cheeks heat. You feel clumsy with your socialising, as though you’re stretching muscles you’re not used to using. Since you had joined the 141, you hadn’t done too much mingling outside of the squad; they’ve been your only friends and confidantes, ribbing and supporting you in equal measure. In the face of a stranger in the on-base cantina, you find yourself floundering.

“I think they get enough of your time,” He murmurs, leaning against the bar in such a way that his body is angled towards you. “C��mon, I’ll buy you another few drinks and we can get to know each other, huh?”

Maybe the vodka was a bad idea. It’s lowering your inhibitions, making you actually consider his offer. You’re pent up from a week of unsuccessful touching yourself, and you crave physical intimacy. 

If you can’t get a repeat performance from Ghost, then maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible if you looked elsewhere, with someone who might be interested in more than a one time thing.

You glance down at Daniel’s hands where they’re wrapped around his beer glass. They’re big, with strong slender fingers and calloused knuckles. Nice hands, you think, but you can’t help but compare to the enormous thick paws of your lieutenant. Still, you think they’d do the job.

“Well–” You start to say, your tone wavering and uncertain as you consider his officer.

But you don’t get to give him an answer before a massive hand settles on your shoulder. It makes you jolt, startled, recognising Ghost by touch alone. It feels as though it sears straight through your clothes, and your eyes widen.

For a moment, Ghost says nothing at all. He just stands at your shoulder, so close that you feel the muscle of his chest and stomach brush against your back, and stares at Daniels from over the top of your head. The glare isn’t even directed your way, and yet you find yourself wilting from it.

“On your way, Sergeant.” Ghost drawls, lifting his chin and gesturing at him dismissively.

Despite Ghost’s obvious intimidation factor, Daniels doesn’t immediately do as he’s told. He huffs out a short breathless laugh instead, as though he can hardly believe what he’s hearing.

“We’re only talking, Lieutenant–”

Ghost doesn’t even respond. His glower just intensifies, until Daniels trails off and his mouth snaps shut. You get the impression that if anyone else tried to intimidate him just by staring and posturing, Daniels might actually square up and fight. He seems like the type to make poor decisions while drinking – maybe you were going to be one of them. 

But as it is, Ghost has an intimidation factor unmatched by anyone else you’ve ever known. It goes beyond his giant hulking physique and skull mask and low gravelly voice that can sound like a clap of thunder when he’s angry. It’s like he has an aura, something that radiates off him in dark waves saying ‘Don’t fuck with me’. Any sensible person would back the fuck off when faced with his full, unwelcoming attention.

And sure enough, Daniels is no exception. He raises his arms to his shoulders and gives Ghost a mocking sort of smile before retreating backwards. To your mortification, he doesn’t so much as glance your way even as he turns his back on you.

Irritation settles over you like a blanket. It makes your skin itch and your teeth grind, and you turn to scowl at Ghost.

“What the hell was that?” You demand, and your voice comes out sharper than you had technically intended.

Ghost’s head tilts, and those sharp dark eyes find you from behind the mask. The eyeblack is beginning to fade in patches around the inner corners of his eyes – bizarrely, it serves as a reminder that Ghost is just a man, not just a massive wall of muscle with a terrifying glower.

“What was what?” He says. His voice has dropped a notch, deep and rumbling into you even as you step away and turn so that you’re facing him head on.

“You– I was just–” You flounder for a moment, searching for words as you gesture uselessly with your hands. 

You’re indignant over his interruption, and your frustration grows as you find yourself unable to articulate yourself. Where the hell does he get off interrupting you talking to another man? He hadn’t spoken to you all week, and now he feels confident enough to cockblock you?

“Mm.” Ghost grunts. “What were you doing?”

Your jaw clenches. “I was talking. Is that a crime now?”

Jesus, you sound like a brat. You don’t even know where this insubordination is coming from; he’s your lieutenant, regardless of that one night you had spent with him. You’re being too bold talking like this, but it’s like you just can’t help yourself.

His eyes darken, lashes blocking out his irises as his gaze narrows at you. You force yourself to maintain eye contact, to keep your spine straight and shoulders back despite your impulse to crumble.

“Watch that mouth, doll.” He warns, his voice low, and you feel your stomach tighten at both his words and his tone. 

But your self-preservation instincts are still missing.

“You can’t ignore me all week and then get annoyed at me when I–”

He cuts you off as though he’s not even listening to you. “Not here. Come on.”

And with that, he wraps one big hand around your upper arm and begins leading you out of the cantina. He’s not harsh, and he doesn’t drag you or anything, but judging by the tense set of his shoulders arguing with him would be a really bad idea right now. 

You’ve pissed him off, and you don’t want to make his mood worse so you allow your feet to move automatically as he leads you out of the room.

You can feel eyes on your back as you leave, and you feel yourself grow squirmy with embarrassment. No doubt the rest of the squad is watching you get hauled off by Ghost right now. 

Oh god, the Captain is watching you get hauled off — how mortifying. You pray they didn’t catch your little exchange with Ghost at the bar, but you have a feeling that hope is in vain. The 141 are close-knit and protective over each other, but they’re also terrible gossips.

“Let me– Sir, let me go–” You start to complain, testing his grip. His hold on you is iron-clad, and yet still somehow gentle enough to avoid bruising.

When you realise where he’s leading you to, you stop complaining very quickly. You had figured that he was just going to drag you into the corridor outside and give you a talking to, but he doesn’t stop there. He keeps going, until you realise that he’s leading you all the way back to your own damn room

“What are you doing?” You demand in a hiss. You’re so incensed that you swear your hair is standing on end. 

After all that, is Ghost seriously hauling you back to your room like you’re a bold child? Is he angry because of your insubordination at the bar? 

A cold trickle of anxiety enters your stomach, and you steal a worried glance at his face. The hard-shell mask he uses on missions has been traded for the softer black woven balaclava that he usually wears when he’s not in the field, but it doesn’t make him any easier to read.

He doesn’t answer until the two of you have crossed the threshold of your room, the door shutting behind you with a firm click.

Now that it’s the two of you, alone once again in your tiny shitty room, you find your indignant confidence waning rapidly. He’s just so big, the huge masculine frame of him making you feel more ridiculous than ever for your momentary flash of brattiness. Even worse, having him in your space like this is only making your brain go into overdrive, as though your body remembers what happened the last time he was here like this.

You decide that the best defence mechanism to prevent yourself from looking like a fool is to cling onto those last little dregs of anger.

“You’re unbelievable.” You snap, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes. “You’ve been avoiding me all week! And then as soon as another guy speaks to me, you’re over to me like a light. I mean, what the fuck?” And then, remembering the chain of command, you add a very sullen, “Sir.” 

Throughout your mini little rant, Ghost has just watched you. There’s something in his eyes that you don’t know how to read, unable to get a feel for what he’s thinking through that inscrutable mask.

“‘S not true.” He grunts after a moment, and you realise that his eyes have creased in a way that suggests he’s frowning.

You feel like you’re going to explode. “Yes, it is! Daniels was barely speaking to me for two minutes before you scared him off–”

Bizarrely, your words make Ghost snort. You hadn’t even realised how tense his shoulders were until he relaxes, and you stare at him in confusion as he steps past you towards your bed. Your anger fizzles out, leaving behind self-conscious confusion as you watch your lieutenant settle down so that he’s sitting at the edge of your bed with his legs spread wide. 

“His name is Davidson.” He says, and his voice is missing the somewhat dangerous edge it had only moments earlier. “And that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

Embarrassment flares, though you try to stifle it. So you didn’t know the guy’s name – whatever. You would have learned it by the end of the night, you’re certain. You open your mouth, defensive and prickly, but Ghost speaks again before you get the chance to.

“I haven’t been ignoring you.” He says, watching you like he’s trying to figure you out. When you just blink at him, he sighs. “Jesus, sweetheart, just sit down for a second. Tell me what I did wrong, yeah?”

You’re left feeling a little wrong-footed, hesitating in the middle of the room. You had expected him to be a little angrier than this, to chide you for your behaviour. Or maybe you had expected him to be cold, or dismissive.

Slowly, you take a few steps towards the bed. He watches you approach, those dark eyes watchful and sharp, but says nothing as you nervously perch on the bed beside him. 

Despite the fact that this is your room, you’re stiff when you sit next to him. Your brain is in overdrive, providing you with very unhelpful memories of the last time Ghost was on your bed and flooding your body with mortifying heat.

“You’ve barely spoken to me since we–” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, averting your gaze and staring at some point past his shoulder. “Since last week. If you wanted to keep it professional, that’s– that’s fine–”

Ghost’s spine straightens, but he doesn’t speak yet. He just watches you, and lets you flounder awkwardly as you struggle to articulate yourself.

“I don’t want to make things awkward, I just–” You’re tripping over your words, wincing when they come out all clumsy. “I’ve never done this before, so I’ll follow your lead, but I don’t understand the point of sending Dan– Davidson, whatever, away like that if you’re clearly trying to keep things between us professional–”

Finally, Ghost speaks, though it seems like he’s suddenly developed incredibly selective hearing.

“He’s a wanker. Chases around any woman that stands still for too long in that damn cantina every time we’re in there.” His voice is a low earnest rumble, but you’re too agitated to properly hear him. “He didn’t have anything to offer that you’d be interested in.”

“That’s not–”

“Besides,” He cuts clean across you, but so gently, so much so that it surprises you. “I think we long surpassed professionalism when you asked if you could use my cock like a dildo.”

Blood rushes to your head so fast you feel a little light-headed. Right, so he’s decided to cut straight to the chase then. You swallow, and your dry throat clicks audibly.

“Right.” You say. “Yeah, that– um… that’s made things awkward, I suppose.” A brief pause, and then you sheepishly add, “Sorry, LT.”

Ghost just watches you, his brown eyes inscrutable beneath the fan of his pale eyelashes. Under the dark fabric of the mask you see his jaw flex, as though he’s considering his next words carefully.

“C’mere.” He says.

You had been expecting him to say more, and you hesitate a moment before reluctantly shuffling over a few inches. Though he had invited you to move closer to him, you’re suddenly so conscious of crossing any possible boundaries. 

You had never slept with anyone before, and you don’t understand what’s expected of you now. How are you supposed to act, now that you’ve had a one-night stand with your lieutenant? 

“Haven’t been ignoring you,” Ghost says, and he reaches out to place a hand on your knee. The touch makes your eyes widen, gaze darting down to stare at his thick fingers where they wrap around the underside of your knee. “You jokin’? Been watching you all week. Thinkin’ about you all the time.”

That’s a bold enough statement that all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. You can’t deny that he’s been watching you – you had felt his eyes on you regularly, but always from a distance. But… 

“You never–” You start to say, before swallowing again so you don’t say something stupid. “You haven’t spoken to me.”

“Spoke to you during training, before you stopped showing up.”

That’s a little galling, and all you can do is scowl. 

“Stop that. You know what I mean.” You snap defensively. 

Maybe you’re imagining it, but you think Ghost might be confused behind that stupid mask. His head has tilted just slightly to the side in the same way as it usually does when he’s trying to figure something out.

“I was trying to give you space, doll.” He murmurs. “It was your first– I didn’t want to overwhelm you. Wanted you to make your own choices.”

The uncertainty in his voice is unexpectedly endearing, but you’re not ready to let go of your irritation with him just yet. Admittedly you’re losing steam, but you struggle to straighten your back and affect a scowl nonetheless.

“I didn’t want space.” You say, and it comes out a little more childish than you had intended it to. You try not to cringe at yourself. “You just– we never talked about anything, you just woke up the next morning and left and then all week you hardly spoke to me.”

You curse your inexperience even as you speak, feeling like a total idiot. You just wish you knew what was expected of you, what Ghost wants. Was he put off by the fact that he had to guide you, fumbling and clumsy, through an experience that was absolutely mind-blowing for you but probably sub-standard for him?

And oh, that thought makes dread curl in your belly. What if Ghost wasn’t impressed with your… performance? You had no idea what you were doing, only that the way Ghost had touched you felt so good, so much better than you’ve ever managed to make yourself feel with your fingers or toys. And when he had brought you to orgasm, you had lost yourself completely. You hadn’t made any attempt to return his attention, too lost in all the new pleasure you were experiencing.

There’s a pause, the silence between you stretching taut. Ghost doesn’t rush to reply, instead apparently thinking hard before he speaks. 

“I go for a run in the mornings.” He says at last, his voice low and rumbly. 

It takes you a moment to process that. 

“You– what?”

Ghost shifts, and the cheap standard issue mattress beneath the two of you squeaks. “That morning, I… went for a run.”

He must realise how that sounds – maybe the expression on your face tips him off – because he hurries to add on to it. “Creature of habit, love. I didn’t– I don’t do this often either. I stayed the night, we cuddled. I thought–”

He stops rather abruptly, and doesn’t finish so you don’t quite know what he thought. Your confusion has gotten the best of you, and you’re staring at him in agitated confusion. God, he’s bad at communicating.

“Should have stayed.” He says gruffly, and if you’re not mistaken he sounds a little chagrined. “Thought we were fine, until you started avoiding me. And then I thought you just needed time to yourself.” He gives a jerky shrug, clearly out of his comfort zone. “‘Cause it was your first time. Dunno.”

Oh. Well.

Now you’re the one blinking at him. That’s… not what you had been expecting. 

While you thought Ghost had been giving you the cold shoulder, he had thought that he was being considerate. Jesus. You’re not sure how to even begin processing that.

“I didn’t need time to myself.” You say, and you sound pathetic.

There’s a beat of silence during which you feel thoroughly examined. Ghost hardly even blinks as he watches you, his scrutiny making you sweat.

“No,” He rumbles after a moment. “Apparently you didn’t.”

You roll your eyes, honestly a little irritated with him. Even after it’s been made clear that your miscommunication has caused issues this whole week, he’s still so hesitant to just fucking talk to you. 

“Right, well–” You start to say, a little sharp. 

He grabs at you before you can retreat, his enormous hand comically large around your wrist. He’s not holding you harshly, his grip just loose enough that you could break out of it if you tried. But instead of pulling away, you allow him to tug you closer. His free hand reaches for your hip, and quicker than your tired mind is able to follow he’s tugged you up into his lap.

“Jesus–” You blurt, grabbing at his shoulders for balance.

Ghost is built like a brick house, all thick and sturdy with all that solid muscle. He’s broad too, and your legs are forced wide as he encourages you to settle in his lap. You try not to let your reaction show on your face, but Ghost is watching you so carefully that you’re certain he can read every micro-twitch anyway.

“Last week wasn’t enough?” He asks, and if you’re not mistaken he sounds hungry. Maybe you could even delude yourself into thinking there’s an undertone of hope, too.

But maybe that’s a step too far. This is the Ghost, after all. He’s veritably a human weapon, every inch of him battle-scarred and solid beneath the heavy clothes and thick mask. You’re pretty sure that any kind of yearning you hear has been prescribed by your own imagination. But you can’t help yourself.

You shake your head, your breath catching in your chest. No, last week wasn’t enough.

“Then why bother with that idiot at the bar?” Ghost asks, his big hands folding around your hips. “If you wanted to be fucked, you could have just asked me.”

You swallow thickly, your throat clicking audibly. For some reason, you hadn’t expected him to speak so bluntly, but it’s typical of Ghost to get straight to the point without beating around the bush. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to do that with me again.” You say, your voice edged with insecurity. 

There’s a long moment of silence during which Ghost just stares at you. It’s borderline uncomfortable, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. Even with the mask acting as a barrier, he’s still so intense.

“What made you think that?” He asks, his voice low.

You find yourself quite abruptly aware of the position you’re in. You’re sitting perched in your lieutenant’s lap with your legs spread wide, after a week of pining after him like an embarrassing little puppy. You’ve been craving physical contact, yearning desperately for that same kind of pleasure he had introduced to you ever since your night together. 

“You’re difficult to read.” You whisper awkwardly, shifting. You’re hyper-aware of your weight in his lap; even though you know he’s strong, the thought of being too heavy for him is a little mortifying.

But his hands tighten around your hips, keeping you securely in place across his thighs.

“You think so?” His voice is low, a little rough, and the gravel of it causes a little frisson of heat to trickle down your spine. “You been trying to read me? Can’t have been doin’ a very good job, darling, since you’ve been avoiding me all fuckin’ week.”

Your breath comes out tremulously, and you pray he can’t hear the shake in your voice when you speak. Judging by his darkening gaze, he hears it loud and clear. 

“I just– Didn’t know if you would want me again.” You whisper, feeling foolish and inexperienced and clumsy.

Ghost watches you, his dark eyes flickering over your face, before he finally hums. Then his grip tightens around your hips and he pulls you so that your clothed crotch grinds against him. You gasp, your eyes widening when you feel the thick ridge of his cock in his tac trousers, unmistakably hard as your clothed cunt slides over him.

“Feel that?” He asks, his voice dropping into that deep, hungry register that you’ve been hearing in your dreams all fucking week.

“Yeah.” You choke, fighting the urge to grind on him like a fucking slut. If your hips twitch, just a little, you think you could be excused.

You are already intimately familiar with his cock, considering how eagerly he had fucked you open on it a week ago (several times, too), but the way it fills his trousers makes it seem ridiculously big and you wonder, a little wildly, how the fuck it ever fit in you in the first place. It presses against the seam of his trousers, right between your legs, and then Ghost grinds up into you and you swear your vision sparks out for a moment.

“Oh!” You blurt out in a wavering whisper, clutching at his shoulders. “Oh, god.”

“Still think I don’t want you?” He grunts. His hands are like fucking shovels, and he takes a grip of your ass and squeezes until you squeak.

Your head is swimming. Your trousers are too tight, the crotch of them pressing into your clit, and you feel like you can't get enough air in your lungs. 

“I don’t know.” You say stupidly. 

It’s like your cunt knows that Ghost is near, because you’re fucking drenched. You can feel your underwear stick uncomfortably to you beneath your clothes, slick and wet as you feel the shape of Ghost���s cock press into you.

He sighs beneath you, his big palm stroking over your ass affectionately. 

“You think too much, doll.” He mutters, his finder squeezing into the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a stress toy. “Way too fuckin’ much.”

He’s probably right. God, you want to stop thinking. Want to return to that stupid, dazed, fucked-out state of mind he had sent you to when he had stuffed you full.

Hesitantly, you grind yourself down onto the thick bulge beneath you. It feels good, that familiar pleasant little spark jolting up your spine as you hump yourself against him.

“Yeah,” Ghost grunts, his voice thick with unmistakable want. “That’s it. You’ve been wanting this, havent’cha?”

“Yeah.” You admit, so quietly that it’s almost inaudible. “Yeah, I want it.”

But Ghost hears. Of course he does. He lets out a low sound that has your thighs squishing closed around his hips, overwhelmed and running far too hot. 

He has you on your back so quickly that your head spins, and you end up staring at the ceiling for a moment in bewilderment, trying to figure out how you’d gotten there. Ghost is already leaning over you, his dark eyes intent on your face as he settles between your thighs.

You think you should probably be embarrassed about the ease with which you spread your legs, eager to feel his bulky body between your thighs. But you’re already running hot, your chest tightening with want, and you find yourself mercifully relieved that he’s here. The miscommunication between the two of you is going to be solved, Ghost wants you, and you’re about to get what you’ve been craving all week.

He pulls your own pants off effortlessly, leaving you in the underwear that you’ve fucking ruined. You try to shut your legs, face burning hot with embarrassment as you try to hide the sight, but Ghost doesn’t have any intention of letting you hide yourself.

He pushes your legs back open, then presses his masked face to the inside of your thigh. You’re not sure what he’s doing; you remember, with a little thrill, the feeling of his red hot mouth against your pussy, but you don’t think that’s what’s happening here because he’s still got his stupid fucking balaclava on.

“Did she miss me?” He asks, his words muffled by both the mask and the pudge of your thigh.

“What?” You ask breathlessly, thinking for a moment that Ghost is talking about you in the third person.

But then he nuzzles his masked face against the sodden seat of your knickers, and you realise that he’s talking about your fucking pussy.

“Oh my god, you weirdo–” You choke out, but you don’t get any further than that before Ghost is tugging impatiently at your underwear, trying to reveal your cunt. 

He hushes you, almost absent-mindedly, and you hear him take a breath when he finally manages to get your knickers off. He tosses them aside, his dark eyes focused intently on your bare cunt now that it’s been revealed. It’s embarrassing, but you can’t bring yourself to try and hide again. He’s touching you so reverently and looking at you so hungrily that you’re not brave enough to try to deprive him of the sight.

“My fussy girl,” He mutters, low enough that you almost don’t hear him. “Have you been touching yourself? Using your toys this week?”

You shiver, a little embarrassed. You have been using your stupid toys, but they haven’t been working. No matter what you do, you can’t replicate the feelings that Ghost had managed to elicit in you with such ease, and you have a sinking feeling that he knows that.

But the mention of your toys reminds you of something else, too. A recurring thought that’s been practically haunting you, that’s had you imagining Ghost up above you and around you as you’d sucked experimentally on your dildo, sliding it into your mouth just to see how much of it you could take.

“Wait–” You say, and though your voice wavers, Ghost sits back immediately, eyes on your face. It’s like he’s just waiting for your word, an order, a direction. Something in your belly warms, and you take a breath.

“I want to try something.” You tell him before you can lose your nerve. “Sit back down.”

He sits at the edge of your bed, his bulky frame moving far more gracefully than you’d expect for his size if you hadn’t already seen him in action. He’s almost patient, until you catch the way the fingers of his right hand drum against his thigh as he waits for you to do something.

Since you’re already stripped from the waist down, you see no point in remaining clothed on top too. When you pull your top and bra off, Ghost makes a low appreciative rumble deep in his chest that you swear you can feel run down your spine. 

“Promising start.” He says, and you want to smack him.

You shoot him a little scowl, before deciding to just ignore him. You’ve fancied him for an embarrassingly long time, probably since the very first time you had laid eyes on him upon joining the task force, and now he’s sitting on your bed, willing and hard and admitting that he wants you. It takes your breath away a little, especially the way that he doesn’t seem put off by your inexperience at all.

Slowly, you sink to your knees in front of him and watch his eyes widen beneath the balaclava. It’s somewhat gratifying to see his surprise; like you’ve finally got one over on your big bad lieutenant. 

“Very promising start.” He says, and this time he sounds a little husky. “D’you know what you’re doing, sweetheart?”

The answer is, very obviously, no. You have no idea what you’re doing, you’re learning as you go along. But Ghost hasn’t judged you yet for your clumsy fumbling exploration, so you can only hope that he’s willing to put up with this too.

“Sort of.” You say evasively. “I’ve seen it in porn, and I’ve… I’ve been practicing.”

Ghost’s groan sounds like it’s been punched out of him, and it’s rough enough to have you glancing up in surprise from where you’re trying to get his stupid trousers unbuttoned. Your hands are unsteady and unsure, and it’s slow-going.

“Yeah?” He asks, sounding a little out of breath himself. “Which one?” “What?” You’re a little distracted, not paying full attention to his question as you tug at his trousers. You’ve finally got them unbuttoned, and you pull impatiently in an effort to get them off. Ghost lifts his hips to help, though your eager impatience seems to amuse him.

“Which one of your toys’ve you been practicing on?” He asks, the barest undertone of a groan in his voice. “The pretty little pink one?”

You feel embarrassed heat prickle in your face because yes, it had in fact been that one you had been practising with. You’re not quite sure what to make of the fact that you’re apparently so predictable that Ghost can guess which dildo you’ve been sucking at, imagining it was him.

“Maybe.” You mutter evasively.

Ghost lets out a low chuckle right as you manage to wrangle his cock out of his briefs, and then you have to pause for a moment because oh. You had known, of course, that he was big. You had felt him for days after that first time, like a fucking internal bruise that ached at you every time you moved. He was bigger than any toy that you owned, you know that, you’ve felt it, and yet now that it’s in front of your face it seems so much bigger than you remember.

You’ve watched porn with so-called ‘monster cocks’ and it isn’t like that. It’s just… bigger. Than average, that is. At least, as far as you can tell, because it’s not like you have enough experience with dicks in real life to have any idea of what average really is.

Ghost must recognise the momentary flash of panic that crosses your face, because he reaches out and strokes a gloved thumb over your cheek. The fabric is rough against your skin, but you relax at the feeling anyway.

“You don’t have to.” He says quietly.

“I want to.” You insist, swallowing that swell of nerves. 

Now that his cock is bobbing in front of your face, you have to fight the sinking feeling that you’re in over your head. But you’re not willing to back down; not when you’ve been thinking about this all damn week, and especially not when you’ve got the man that stars in all of your fantasies sitting on your bed with his legs spread.

You shuffle forward a little, and try not to feel intimidated at the fact that Ghost’s thick thighs twitch when you reach to take hold of his cock. He’s so big that it feels like he’s dwarfing you beneath him, his bulky form enveloping you in shadow when he leans forward to make sure he has a good view of what you’re doing.

You stroke experimentally over his cock, your fist a little clumsy. Despite your frenzied and very pleasurable tumble with him before, you had never actually gotten the chance to touch him in return. You had been too overwhelmed by the sheer onslaught of sensation he had delivered upon you to even think about returning any favours, and the fact that you’re getting the opportunity now to reciprocate and explore fills your tummy with butterflies.

“Grip it harder, love.” He grunts, shifting his hips so that he can fuck his cock into your fist. “It ain’t gonna break.”

“Shh,” You admonish him, glancing up with a frown. “Let me do it myself.”

Ghost snorts quietly, probably finding your determination silly, but he still his hips and lets you go at your own pace. His dick is big, and you stare at it with some level of wonder as you stroke your fist over him. You can’t help but compare the feel of him to your dildos, only because they’re your only real point of reference; his skin is velvety soft and hot to the touch, yielding despite how hard he is, and you admire the slide of his foreskin pulling down over the crown. 

It’s not the size that really catches your attention though. No, what you really notice is how fucking perfect it is. Pretty and pink, flushed more red towards the tip, the head shiny with just a hint of smeared pre-come. It curves, slightly, to the left, and it feels nice in your hand. You feel a little light headed as your eyes dart over the pale blond downy hair that covers his thighs and the base of his cock. 

You gather your courage, then lean in and lick tentatively at the rosy pink crown of his cock. You had been a little worried about the taste, having no idea what to expect, but you needn’t have been. He‘s a little salty, but nothing inoffensive; he just tastes like skin, and you relax a little in relief.

He groans, his head tilting back to stare at the ceiling. You pause, hoping for some sort of direction, and as the moment stretches out he looks back to you and tilts his head.

“Thought you wanted to do it yourself?”

Bastard, you grumble in your head, before steeling yourself. You know that your grip on him is clumsy, that your stroking is unpracticed, and you can only pray that he doesn’t mind.

You take his cock into your mouth, jaw hinged wide as you try to avoid using your teeth, and attempt to suck with no finesse. You go too fast, try to take too much too quickly, because all of a sudden the head is tickling the back of your throat and you’re coughing, choking, and sputtering. 

You pull back, blinking rapidly as your eyes sting with tears and drool drips unattractively down your chin. You go to wipe your face, but Ghost catches your wrist before you can.

“Slow down,” He murmurs, pulling your hands away from your face so he can look at you. “You in a rush?”

“No.” You grumble, and your voice comes out a little hoarse from the choking. “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Even though you’re quite certain that Ghost already knows that, it’s a little humiliating to admit.

Ghost just hums, his eyes tracking over your petulant expression and the stringy spit that’s trickling down your chin, falling in thick globs above your tits.

“Don’t matter, love.” He rumbles, reaching out to thumb at your chin. You think for a moment that he’s wiping you clean, but then he just ends up smearing your spit all around your mouth. “Play with it as much as you want to. Don’t think too much.”

You swallow, the sound a little too loud in the quiet of your room, before nodding. This is what you wanted – the chance to touch him, to explore his mouth with your hands and mouth just like he had done with you before.

You readjust your grip on his cock; it looks so stupidly big in your hand. You can tell that he notices too, because he lets out a gruff sort of groan before he reaches out, one hand winding around the back of your neck to cup at the base of your skull.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He breathes, his eyes locked onto you.

His eyes are dark, almost completely blacked out by the thickness of his pupil, and he stares down at you with an air of such anticipation that you couldn't dream of keeping him waiting. Gripping him in your hand, you give an exploratory sort of stroke — the skin is velvety soft and smooth, and he lets out a short groan of appreciation when your fingers caress the head of his cock.

You start moving your hand again, adjusting your grip and stroking him off. You wish you were better at it, or at least more confident, but Ghost doesn’t seem to have any complaints. He just grunts quietly, flexing his hips once before apparently remembering what you had said and going still.

It takes a moment before you work up the confidence to bring it anywhere near your mouth again, but finally you lean forward and press a gentle little kiss to the head of his cock. You’re rewarded with a quiet puff of laughter, and his thumb strokes a soothing circle into the back of your neck.

Encouraged, you dip your head and lick the tip of him properly. He tastes salty on your tongue as you take him carefully into your mouth. This time you just suckle at the head, not wanting to push yourself too fast. His taste isn’t nearly as strong as you had been expecting; you hardly notice, really, enjoying the weight of his cock on your tongue and the feeling of being encircled by his big thighs.

It sounds stupid and maybe a little paradoxical, but you feel safe like this; Ghost towers over you even sitting down, and when you’re on your knees for him like this with his thick thighs bracketing you and his clean musky smell in your nose, you swear you never want to leave this moment.

You let out the most pathetic little whisper ever when you suckle at his cock, your tongue licking insistently at the underside of his glans. Ghost is always fairly stoic beneath that mask (other than his occasional bursts of humour and arrogance), so managing to pull out the soft but heavy breaths from his mouth when you suck at him makes pride swell in your chest, warm and syrupy sweet. It also makes something else twist in your belly, tight and hot enough to have your thighs squeezing tight together.

You used to have so many stupid, virginal plans for what you’d do the day you got your hands on some real, non-plastic cock, but everything you’ve ever heard about dicks and oral sex immediately flies right out of your head. You have no technique, and all you do is suck, gracelessly, trying to get as much of Ghost in your mouth as you can. You’re making loud, embarrassing slurping noises, and you’re certain that you’re drooling.

Judging by the grunts above you, Ghost has got no complaints about your technique (or lack thereof). One of his big hands reaches down to cup your face, fingers probing, testing at your jawline as it works.

“Fuck,” He snarls, tilting your chin up so he can see the way your lips are wrapped around the tip of his massive cock, “Knew you’d be good at this. Look at you, messy little thing. Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

That makes you shiver, an electric jolt that shoots right to your clit. You’re not sure what feels better; whether it’s his fat cock in your mouth or the hot wanting intensity in his eyes or the low filthy praises he’s growling.

God, you want to be good at this. You’re definitely no natural, but you fight so hard to push past your uncertainty to make this feel good for Ghost. 

You’re pretty sure he’s lying about you looking gorgeous, though. You’ve never felt less sexy than you do in this moment. Your eyes are streaming over-stimulated tears, your brow is scrunched in concentration, you’re gripping onto Ghost’s thick thighs for both balance and emotional support, and it’s taking everything you have not to choke on him again.

Who the fuck gave him the right to have a cock like this? Complaining about it feels borderline blasphemous, especially when you have first hand experience of just how good he is at using it. You’re making a mess of yourself, slobbering all over him in a way that’s definitely a little gross, but you’re surprised by just how much you’re enjoying this. 

You get a little too eager, because you take him a little too far down your throat and gag. You pull off quickly, choking lightly and still gasping for breath. Maybe your brain is a little oxygen-deprived, because you feel stupidly hazy. 

You take a moment to recover, nuzzling dazedly into the curls of his pubic hair. Blond, of course. God, that shouldn’t be cute but it is.

The thick length of his dick might be intimidating (as proven by the ache in your throat right now), but the velvety balls nestled below seem almost paradoxically vulnerable. You’re fascinated by the sight of them; you might have been amateurishly familiar with cocks from your dildos alone, but his balls are entirely new to you.

You spend some time lavishing them with tiny licks and kisses. Ghost hums in surprised pleasure, the sound swelling to a rumbling purr when you start caressing his thighs and hips with a tender, shy touch. 

Encouraged by his reaction, you return to his cock. It’s jutting proudly up, flushed a lovely pink colour, as though it’s just waiting for your attention once more. It’s already covered in a lather of foamy spit from your attention before, and when you sink your mouth down on him once again you do so with a bit more confidence.

“Like a pro, baby.” Ghost grunts appreciatively. A calloused thumb rolls over your cheek, under the fan of your lashes, and wipes away the moisture that’s gathered there. 

You most certainly are not sucking his cock like a pro, but you appreciate the encouragement all the same. It’s nice to know that you’re not doing a horrific job, at least.

You spare a glance up, half-expecting Ghost’s eyes to be closed. Instead his gaze is avid, sharp, practically electric through that thin window of his balaclava. He’s watching you closely, taking in every detail like it all might be snatched away from him. It’s too intense, and you look back down, focusing on his dick again.

An outraged, possessive noise escapes you when Ghost forcibly tugs your head back, pulling his cock out of your mouth. It twitches a little once it’s been removed from the wet heat of your mouth, all shiny wet and pink, and you lick your lips. God, you want to get back on that, and you don’t understand why he’s taken it away from you.

Ghost lets out a low, breathy chuckle, reaching out to thumb at your spit-slick lower lip before reaching for your elbows and bodily hauling you back up onto the bed.

You practically bounce, falling back on the mattress and squirming to try and get your bearings again.

“No,” You say, and to your bewilderment it comes out on a sob. “I wanted you to come on my face–”

You can tell that Ghost’s expression does something strange beneath his mask because his eye twitches and he takes a deep breath. But he doesn’t put his cock back in your mouth. Instead he reaches back and pulls his shirt off, and you take a broken little inhale because last time he had fucked you, he’d hardly gotten undressed at all. But now you’re being blessed with the sight of scarred pale skin pulled taut over the thick swell of muscles that turn to a softer belly, that pale trail of curls starting just below his belly button. 

“Next time.” He says, and it comes out on the ghost of a groan. “Fuck, love, next time.”

He’s quick to hook his hands under your thighs and haul them apart. You just about have time to spread your legs before he’s muscling his way between them. He tugs impatiently at his balaclava, tugging it askew to reveal his mouth, then he presses his nose into your humiliatingly slick pussy and starts sucking at your clit like it’s a hard candy.

You shriek, your thighs clamping shut around his ears as you writhe, but he clearly has no intention of stopping. The muffled moans he lets out into your cushiony cunt vibrate in the best way, and he’s so brazen about it that it just about takes your breath away. You don’t even know if he can see anything, considering his mask is completely lopsided and his eyes aren’t lined up with the holes anymore, but he’s working with such enthusiasm that it doesn’t even matter.

And honestly, his enthusiastic pussy-eating combined with the sheer visual stimulation he’s providing is really doing it for you. 

You’re probably going to get a crick in your neck from the way you’re craning your head just to watch him hunch over you, that tongue of his peeking out from beneath the edge of his mask just to lick you. He’s built like a fucking god; thick muscles, soft tummy, and cushiony pecs. It might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh god, fuck–!” You choke out, your cunt clenching down hard as Ghost slides a finger into you.

Of course, Ghost’s fingers are also thicker than average. A single one of them feels like what would have been two of your own and you gasp a bit at the sudden stretch. You open up easily, your body welcoming him greedily and bearing down hard around his digits. Maybe it’s because you’re used to controlling the depth, speed and angle of penetration completely when you’re playing with your toys, but relying on Ghost for pleasure feels so damn exotic and exciting. Now you can only tilt your hips and go with Ghost’s pattern of movement; a bit harder, a bit deeper than what you would have done on your own.

He pushes another finger inside and it’s snug in your cunt, two fingers squished together nicely by your pulsing walls, hot and wet. It makes a sticky sound when he pushes them knuckle-deep, and then he sucks at your clit again, hard.

You’re honestly taken aback when your stomach tightens up and a wave of white-hot pleasure washes over you. Your back bows off the bed, you cover your mouth with a balled-up fist, your chest heaves. 

It’s exactly as good as you remember it being the first time, maybe even better, and the noises you make are broken and pathetic as you whine and cry.

Ghost licks you through it, big long laves of his tongue punctuated by sweet little suckles on your clit that feel almost fond. All you can do is lay there and take it, your head spinning a little as you catch your breath and try to figure out how the fuck he managed to make you come so damn quickly when you’ve been failing so spectacularly for a week.

You’ve barely finished coming, still shaking with the aftershocks, when he climbs up your body. At some point he’s shucked his trousers off, and the fact that he’s naked sends a little zing of excitement through your tired body. Or at least, as naked as Ghost tends to get. He’s still got the damn mask on.

He’s breathing heavily; his mouth is slightly ajar, mask tucked up around his crooked nose as he settles on his haunches between your thighs. He’s still staring hard at your cunt, his eyes glued to the way your clit is still twitching. He’s still so damn quiet, and you have no idea what he’s thinking.

When he reaches out to thumb at your clit again you whine. You’re sensitive, and his thumb is calloused and rough. You wiggle, lift up your leg and press your foot to his broad chest to stop him. You may as well be pushing against a brick wall for all the good it did.

Ghost just exhales a quiet laugh, capturing your ankle in his massive fist. He turns his head and kisses your ankle; the gesture is unexpectedly tender, and makes something in your chest tremble dangerously.

He uses his hold on your ankle as leverage to raise your leg, spreading your thighs out wide until your hips ache. You feel so exposed, the lips of your cunt parted ever so slightly, and he’s quick to press his cock against your still-twitching clit.

“Oh, look at her,” He breathes, low enough that you have to strain to hear. “Shite, she missed me, didn’t she?”

His hand is steady as he strokes his cock, dragging it through your sticky folds. The pretty pink head catches on your clit each time, and you let out a quiet whimper. Ghost doesn’t even notice; his eyes are zeroed in on your spread pussy, watching how you flutter around nothing.

“Fuck, she’s been waitin’ for me all week,” He coos, his cock notching at the entrance of your cunt and pressing in just enough for you to feel the stretch as his thumb rolls against your clit. “I know, baby, been waitin’ for you too.”

Jesus, you feel like you’re gonna die. You’re taking all these big deep shivering breaths, still trembling a little from your orgasm and eager for him to just fuck you already, but his filthy talk in your ear is sending you spiralling. You’re so wet it feels like you’ve sprung a leak; you can feel moisture running down your ass and under your thighs, and you burn with both mortification and desire.

Ghost presses his cock in a little further, and your back arches as you groan. Despite the orgasm and the fingering and the fact that you are so fucking aroused right now, the stretch is intense.

“Yeah, she’s beggin’ for me.” Ghost is still talking – at this point you think his words are meant just for himself, because they’re low and a little slurred, his eyes glassy as he stares at the way his cock spears through the slick folds of you. “Listen; it’s like she’s talking to me.”

For a second, you have no goddamn idea what he’s talking about. But then, in the silence, you hear the squelch of your drippy cunt as he squishes his cock against it in shallow little thrusts, barely even pressing the tip inside.

“Oh god,” You whine, high and needy. “Just– stop teasing.”

The bastard laughs, all low and gritty and a little breathless.

“It’s not teasing, lovie.” He says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your jawline. “You’ve been avoiding me for a week straight. I’m just reacquainting myself.”

Then he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth in a move so sweet that it honestly takes you aback. Every complaint in your head flies out the window, and you turn eagerly in an attempt to deepen the kiss. His mouth is so hot, his lips plush and hungry and a little salty. It occurs to you that you’re tasting yourself in his mouth, and your body draws up tight and tense in response. 

“Simon,” You breathe, intending to tell him to get a move on and just fuck you already, but you don’t even get as far as finishing the order.

He groans as though the sound of his given name is a signal, and before you know it you’ve got a huge wall of muscle hunched over you and around you as Ghost holds himself up by his elbows on either side of your head. You feel his cock prodding at the entrance of your cunt and your legs fall even further open, until your hip joints ache.

When he starts to push in, the stretch burns in a way that makes your mouth fall open as you choke on the air in your lungs. You’re wet and pliable and eager, your pussy sucking hungrily at Ghost’s dick in an effort to take him deep quickly, but you had almost forgotten what this felt like. You can’t stop the way your cunt tightens eagerly as he rocks in an inch.

He laughs lowly in your ear, has to swallow back a groan when you clench tight around him, “C’mon, stop pushing me out, darling.”

“Wait,” You gasp, reaching down to place your hand over his belly. “Wait, oh my god, you’re too big–”

His stomach muscles are tensed with the effort he's putting in to keep from rocking into you all in one go, and you spare a moment to admire his patience and his sheer resolve to make things good for you. But even though he’s obediently paused to let you catch your breath, he chuckles quietly at your reaction.

“It’s only the tip, baby.” He murmurs, cooing softly to you like you’re something easily spooked. “You’ve taken it before. This pretty little cunt of yours is so hungry, gotta let her have it.”

You nod, hesitantly. He’s right; he may be big, but you’d taken him before. Only last week. And you had been a virgin then. Well, technically. Not physically, maybe, since you’d long stretched out your hymen on your dildos, but mentally. Though at least last week you had stretched yourself out on your vibrator, and then Ghost had spent so long opening you up with his mouth and fingers.

Ghost rocks forward another inch, and the stretch makes you squeal like a fucking stuck pig. It’s mortifying. How the hell did he ever manage to fit that fat cock inside you?

You slap at his belly hard, writhing away. 

“No, nope, not gonna fit.” You wheeze.

Ghost pulls back, and you can read the disappointed slant of his mouth and he reaches down to grip the base of his cock. Now that you get another look at it, you take a deep breath. It’s still well-lubed with your spit and the pink cockhead is shiny with your slick. 

It’s big, but you know you can take it. You just… you need better leverage.

Your jaw clenches in determination. “I need to be on top.”

There’s a moment of silence as those words settle between you, as though Ghost’s brain is buffering. Then his lips start curving up into that semi-familiar smug smile, and he rolls the two of you over so that he’s laying on his back in your bed with you perched clumsily atop his thighs.

His cock juts up proudly, practically bobbing as it leaks prespend down his length. He settles back, folding his arms behind his head as he watches you – the position makes his biceps bulge in a way that is very appealing and also most likely unintentional.

“Go on.” He encourages, as hungry and wanting as you’ve ever heard him. “All yours, gorgeous.”

All yours, your brain repeats, the words echoing around your skull until you’re certain that your head is empty but for that. You want him so much it makes you feel dizzy.

You shuffle forward until your pussy is hovering over the blood-flushed head of his cock. The cute pink blush has started to darken into a red that looks painful, and you take a little breath at the idea of helping him out with his little problem.

You lower yourself down so that the tip of Ghost’s cock is lined up with your entrance and begins pressing in, stretching you wide and slipping in inch by inch. You gasp desperately as you’re speared open inexorably slowly, tears pricking your eyes as your mouth drops open.

Though you’re the one controlling the pace, it still seems overwhelming, all-encompassing. You can feel your cunt stretching wide and taut around the width of him, fluttering as Ghost groans in dazed appreciation.

You glance up at him, to see that his eyes are a little unfocused, missing the intensity that they’ve had all night. His gaze is flickering from the way your cunt is sliding down on his cock to your breasts to your face, so fast as if he’s trying to take it all in before it disappears.

His oversized hands come to rest on your hips, and you half expect him to pull you down impatiently on his cock. But he doesn’t, they just rest there as though he needs to ground himself. His stomach is tensed so tight you know that his abs will be sore in the morning, and to your delight you can see a lovely pink flush climbing across his lightly-haired chest.

You keep your eyes on his half-masked face as you slowly rock your way down onto the length of him, your breath occasionally hitching. Though he doesn’t rush you, you can feel the way his fingers twitch on your hips and the way his jaw grinds, and all those little tells only increase your excitement.

You’re so full you feel like you’re about to break in half, and Ghost’s gaze on you feels like a physical weight, but you don’t stop. You wiggle clumsily, trying to take him deeper and unintentionally pulling gruff groans out of him every time your body tightens.

Then, finally, you take him to the hilt. He groans, his eyes half-lidded as he watches the way your body sits perched on his lap, little tremors rocking through you as you adjust to his size inside. 

“That’s my girl.” Ghost says, and the praise comes out on the edge of a growl. “Fuck, it’s like you were made for me.”

Tingling heat is growing alarmingly quickly in your lower belly and at the apex of your thighs, and you tremble over him as you use your grip on his shoulders for leverage. The soft sounds of pleasure that are pulled out of his throat every time you roll yourself against him send sparks through your entire nervous system – you’ve never heard Ghost sound so soft and wanting.

One of his hands reaches between you, one big thumb settling right over your swollen clit. You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you try to rock your hips against his hand even as you try to ease the feeling of his girth inside you.

“Would you have gone back to his quarters?” He asks, and the seemingly non-sequitur is too much for your dazed, cock-stupid mind to keep with.

“Huh?” You breathe, tentatively rocking your hips and moaning softly as his cock hits just right inside.

“The guy at the bar.” Ghost clarifies, his voice deep and a little irritated. “The one who was all over you. Would you have gone back with him?”

Oh, you think a little wryly. You should have known that he’d be a big possessive bastard.

“I don’t know.” You say, but you’re barely paying attention. You’ve started to rock for real now, and it feels good. Your rhythm is barely more than a slow grind – you think, distantly, that you should be lifting yourself up and down and fucking yourself properly, but grinding so that he hits deep and your clit rubs up against his pubic bone just feels so fucking intense.

“Waste of your time.” He grunts, his grip tight on your hips as he watches you hump lazily. “Jesus, look at the way you’re sucking me in. Cunt’s so fussy, she was just waiting for me.”

The worst part is, you think he might be right. You had been touching yourself every night this week, trying and failing to recreate the high he had brought you to. The touch just wasn’t the same, and no matter how close you got you just couldn’t fall over that damn ledge.

“Yeah,” You whine, hardly even aware of what you’re agreeing to. The sweet ache of the stretch has almost disappeared now, and you hump back onto his cock with abandon. Your chest is heaving as you pant, and you can feel your own body trying to suck him in further but there’s nowhere else to go because he’s filling you up so completely. 

You tip forward, grabbing clumsily at his shoulders for balance as your face smushes against the cushiony softness of his pecs. God, he’s so strong, it’s like your body weight is nothing to him – he just accepts your whole body leaning into him, humming in satisfaction.

Tentatively, you lift yourself up a few inches so you can ease back down. You repeat the movement a few more times, and then you’ve established a steady pace of fucking yourself on his cock. 

“Simon,” You gasp, and it comes out in a whimper that’s far more pathetic than you had intended. “Am I– am I doing good?”

He’s gritting his teeth – you can see the tense line of his jaw as he tilts his head back, watching your face as you bounce stumblingly on his cock.

“Like I said, lovie, you’re a natural.” He says, exhaling harshly through his nose. “Gimme a kiss.”

When you lean forward to kiss him, the angle shifts and all of a sudden he's hitting the spot that makes your knees go weak. Your thighs are already burning from the exertion of riding him, but you whine desperately.

“There.” You moan into Ghost’s mouth, the two of you sharing air as you pant against each other’s lips. “Oh god, please–”

The muscles in his thighs ripple as he lifts his hips to meet yours as you bounce down, and then all of a sudden he’s fucking into you from below. The strength in his hips almost bodily lifts you every time he fucks up, though you almost thwart his every thrust as you try to grind on him again, trying to get his cock to hit just right again.

Fuck, your legs are tired and your knees are aching, but you can feel that glorious build up in your tummy again. Ghost has taken over most of the heavy lifting now too; instead of relying on you to bounce up and down, he’s drilling into that one spot inside you that sends liquid heat shooting up your spine.

Your mouth is hanging open and you’re pretty sure that you’re drooling all over his lovely, soft chest, but it just feels so good. You don’t understand how he does this, how he makes it feel so good for you. You think, a little wildly, that maybe your cunt was made for him.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you’re so tight,” Ghost grunts, and his chest rumbles beneath your smushed cheek. “Gonna come again for me, sweetheart? Go on, cream on me.”

You didn’t actually think you were that close to another orgasm, despite how good it feels, but maybe Ghost knows you and your pussy better than you know yourself because you feel yourself go tight and gushy, nonsensical gasping and babbling spilling from your lips. The soft squelching noises your pussy makes as his cock fucks up into you is obscene, enough to make your nipples go tight and tingly.

Then his thumb rolls hard against the swollen bud of your clit and you’re gone. You think you might actually scream, but it’s muffled against the now drool-covered expanse of his thick, bulging pecs. 

You let out a choked out wail as your orgasm rips through you like an electric shock, leaving you trembling madly in its wake. You swear you come apart completely, unravelling at the edges as you writhe in his lap, grinding wildly even as he continues to fuck you through it. 

You don’t get even a moment of reprieve, because Ghost keeps going through the waves of your orgasm. He pulls you up to kiss you, sloppy and dirty, and then starts thrusting for all he’s worth. You’re put in mind of bull-riding, and your thighs clench hard as you try to stay seated as he bucks against you.

It's the most unravelled you’ve ever seen him. Ghost is always cool and in control, always meeting everything with smug, arrogant confidence. To see him glowing with sweat, his mouth lolled open under his rumpled balaclava as he snarls and grunts and fucks into you like an animal feels like a drug so heady you know you’re already addicted.

This is not the lazy rhythm of before; he’s uncoordinated and frantic, kissing you hard and messy as he shoves his cock up into you so hard that you’re sure it’s going to leave a permanent impression inside you. Maybe that’s what he’s aiming for. You take it easily, split open and pliant and soft and wet.

You’re oversensitive and shivery, breathing hard and whimpering on every other thrust, but you don’t complain. It only takes a handful of thrusts before Ghost finishes with a bitten off snarl, his jaw clenching and head tipping back as he pulls you off him just in time for his cock to spurt several thick ropes of creamy cum between you. Most of it lands on your belly, dripping down onto your pussy like icing on a cake, but some of it spurts onto Ghost’s own soft belly too.

It makes a mess, but you don’t care. You feel so dreamy-floaty happy right now, your limbs floppy and rubbery as you slump down onto his chest. He catches you easily, and lays you down gently onto the bed. 

You grumble when he moves, but you remember this part from last time. You don’t bother opening your eyes; you know he’ll come back.

Sure enough, he returns within moments, and you feel a warm, wet cloth wiping at your belly and inner thighs. You part your legs, pleased with the feeling of being looked after. When you blink your eyes open again, you see that he’s pulled the mask back down to cover his lovely, talented mouth. You try not to be too disappointed over that. His eyeblack is smeared too; it gives the impression of total debauchery. 

“You alright, love?” He asks, and you realise that you’ve just been staring blankly at him.

“Yeah.” You mumble, stretching your body out like a cat. Now that you’ve been given a moment, you can feel all those little aches flare to life between your legs, around your hips, and up the base of your spine. You wince, but don’t complain.

To your delight, Ghost climbs back into bed with you. He’s a little too big for the standard issue frame, but you’re more than happy to roll on top of him and cuddle close to conserve space. He seems similarly happy to have you all laid out on his chest, because he presses his masked face to the top of your head and inhales slowly.

“Are you staying, this time?” You ask quietly. You think you know the answer after your conversation earlier, but you can’t quite help the little pulse of insecurity.

“As long as you’ll have me.” He says, low in the quiet of the room. His tone is thick with significance, like he’s talking about more than just staying the night, and his fingers are sure and steady as he traces absent-minded little patterns down the length of your spine.

You swallow, heart racing, and rest your cheek against his chest. The steady thump, thump, thump of his own heart soothes you, and you bite your lip. He’s so solid, reliable. You’d trust him with your life, with anything. 

You glance down, your eyes curiously seeking out his now softening cock. It’s laying in a bed of his blond curls at his crotch, and it looks so unthreatening when it’s flaccid. You admire the shape of it absently, feeling a little thrill of excitement at the sight of it. You can’t lie to yourself and say you don’t feel a little possessive, either.

“Are we dating now?” You ask quietly. You’re not able to look him in the eye when you ask it, so you keep your face turned down. You don’t think you could handle seeing his expression if his answer is no.

There’s a pause. His hand halts the sweet patterns he’d been drawing on your back.

“Was that a question for me, or my cock?” He asks. He seems to be aiming for his usual sort of dry humour, but his tone comes out a little guarded, as though he’s actually not sure.

You raise your head, stifling your insecurity, and make eye contact with him. Those pretty brown eyes, so warm when they’re looking at you like this.

“You,” You say.

There’s another pause, and then his hand starts tracing its way over your bare back again.

“Yeah,” Ghost says, and the corners of eyes crinkle. “Stuck with me now, lovie.”

[buckyalpine]

40s Sergeant Barnes with a nurse and a Sergeant kink (and breeding and house wife kink, virginity loss). This was supposed to be a pure smutty drabble but then I got in my feelings and added some fluff and angst but I promise Bucky is still a dirty, nasty little fuck in this. Just with a sweeter ending. The one he deserves.

Listen just imagine what a cute, sexy menace Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes would be just waking up from an injury when his eyes flutter open to the pretty nurse he’s been eyeing from the day he started. You’re not a shy, dainty little thing, nope. Not at all.

You bark out orders like a drill Sergeant and one glare from you is all it takes to get everyone in line and on task without a second thought. Even his superiors are scared of you, biting their tongue when you stitch them up and send them on their way before running off to your next patient.

Bucky was in love.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he rasps, throwing you a charming smirk while you roll your eyes in response, shaking your head. "How'd I get so lucky, got a my little angel tendin' to me"

“I see your injury hasn’t stopped hurt that mouth of yours Sergeant" You quirk an eyebrow while he playfully huffs as you change the dressing covering a gash on his abdomen. You swab the area clean and he doesn't flinch even though you know it must burn like hell, his muscles tensed while he continues to watch you with heart eyes. "Now you know I'm not your little angel, I got 20 other men to fix up, you better be out of this bed as soon as you're all healed up"

“C’mon sugar, you're breakin' my heart" Bucky gives you a little pout with those perfect lips and you catch the twinkle in his eye as he looks over your form with complete admiration. He loved your sassy, take no shit attitude and it's taking everything in him to calm himself down so he doesn't get a hard on right there in front of you.

"You'd tell that to a cat with three legs if it was in a nurses outfit" You try your best to not give into his flirty comments and puppy eyes, knowing damn well he's a heart breaker but he makes it so difficult when he continues to woo you with his boyish charm.

He can't help but chase after you; catching the way your eyes always dart around with anxiety when his group returns from an operation, relief flooding them when you finally spot him. He loves your indifferent attitude, patting him down to make sure he's uninjured but your furrowed brows and the tiny pout on your lips give away that you're worried.

How can he just let you go. Every time you check over him, he needs you closer.

So much closer.

-

"Ms. y/l/n, Sergeant Barnes is requesting you in his tent, he says it's urgent"

You shake your head looking over at the time, quietly making your way over to the tent he's stationed at, thankful that a number of troops were sleeping so you wouldn't be seen as you quickly slip inside.

“And what hurts now” you sass with your hands on your hips seeing the soldier in perfect health, doing your best to assess him without letting him know.

"Always checkin' over me" Bucky chuckles, seeing what you're doing; his words making your cheeks heat up, "Knew you cared about me sugar"

"Well what am I doin' here" You give him an unconvincing huff, struggling to keep your voice steady, refusing to meet his eyes, keeping your gaze on his silver dog tags instead. It doesn't help that he's handsome as hell with a light dusting of scruff covering his cheeks. Bucky's never seen you flustered before and it evokes something in him, all the blood in his body rushing south seeing your fingers twitch.

All he wanted to do was kiss you but now-

“Help your Sergeant out doll” He whispers, taking another step forward till his chest brushes against yours, his hand coming to tilt your chin up, "Will you?"

You gasp feeling his hardness press against your thigh, your heart fluttering wildly as his thumb traces your lips, any semblance of control you had slipping away feeling the warmth of his skin.

“Y-yes Sergeant Barnes”

His lips press against yours, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the way his body was screaming for him to pick you up and toss you onto his cot.

"Sweet like sugar" He lets his hands fall to your waist, pulling you flush against his body while your arms drape on top of his shoulders. You stand on your toes chasing more of his lips and he chuckles at the needy whine you let out when he pulls away for air.

Now let's say your first night together was actually quite tame. He kisses you again and you swoon when he repeatedly checks in with you before going any further. His hand slips under your skirt, letting his fingers toy with places no on else has touched. With each night, he needs you more and more until he can't hold off any longer and neither can you.

-

You sneak into his tent and this time he doesn't hesitate to undress you completely, not when he needs you bare with nothing separating you both. You feel your heart race as he lies on top of you, draping a thin sheet over himself when you shiver at the chill night air. You feel his body heat instantly warm you up, his heavy cock resting between your soaked folds.

"Are you sure, sugar?" He asks, his hand cupping your cheek and stroking your skin.

"Please Sergeant" You whisper and the way you say his title makes his cock twitch. There's something so different about you when you're in his bed, a sweet little bunny giving herself to him completely. It drives him feral with a need to make you feel good, make you cry for his cock and his cock only, to keep you nice and full of him.

You don't look twice at anyone else and here you are completely naked in his tent with your tight little virgin cunt, your legs spread open so he can put his dick in you; there was no way he was ever going to let you go.

"You tell me if it's too much, alright?" His lips tickle your neck as kisses your skin while rubbing his heavy cock through your folds, coating it in your slick, "Breathe for me"

He slips his tags into your mouth as he starts to press in, the initial sting making you bite down hard onto the metal feeling a mix of pleasure and pain. You whine at the way he stretches you open, your thighs squeezing around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Shhh, that's it love, doin' so good for me so good for your Sergeant, look how you're takin' all of me baby" He looks down to where you're both connected as he continues to slowly push himself in till hes fully sheathed inside you. He gives you time to adjust, slipping his tags out of your lips and letting his tongue lace with yours instead, his balls already throbbing with how tightly you were squeezing his cock.

"Please-Sergeant" your heels press into his ass desperate for him to move, gasping when he starts to slowly roll his hips, barely pulling out.

"I got you love-don't worry" Bucky moves as slowly as he could not wanting to hurt you, taking just as much care of you as you had with him countless of times.

But he can only keep up at that pace for so long. Your muffled whines and moans don't help the way his mind is already spiraling. His pretty little nurse all spread out just for him, taking his raw, bare cock in her soaking pussy, squeezing him so tight, he was only a few strokes from cumming.

If it were up to him he would've proposed on the spot, thinking about making love to you on your wedding night, seeing you all shy and sweet wrapped up in soft white lace. If you were his wife, he'd take you apart every which way, not giving a fuck about traditions, taking you right on the dining room table.

You'd be the prettiest little thing for him to come home to, such a good wife all dirty just for her husband. Only he'd know the way your mouth would slobber all over his cock like your life depended on it. The way you'd moan at the taste of his cum. Bucky's eyes rolled back at the thought of you with nothing but some heels and a string of pearls he'd put around your neck while he stuffed you with cum and emptied his balls in you.

"S-Sergeant-I-oh god" You whimpered feeling his cock grow harder, your pussy pulling him right back in, feeling the coil low in your belly pull tighter and tighter as he hit that spot.

Meanwhile Bucky's jaw clenched as he felt his balls pull tight to his body, the tip leaking steadily in your pussy. His mind spiraled into places he didn't think would exist before he met you, rogue thoughts he only entertained when he had his dick in his hand. The harder he fucked you the more he thought about how gorgeous you'd look with a swollen belly.

Fuck, imagine if he got you pregnant right then and there. That nurses uniform would no longer fit you. Everyone would know he knocked you up, your perfectly round tummy carrying Sergeant James Barnes' baby, breasts heavy with milk, God, he wasn't going to last-

“Gonna let your Sergeant pump you full of cum?” He pants, letting his hands grip onto your hips like his life depends on it, the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit.

“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-youI-I'm gonna-"

"M'yours sweet girl, m'all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.

"Want your cum Sergeant" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.

"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, m-gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Bucky right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair; his usual kempt brown locks now disheveled .

“Y’know m’gonna marry you” his scruffy cheek nuzzles into your neck as he continues to stay deep inside you as his cock softens, “after all this is over. Gonna put a ring on that finger”

His words send a different wave of emotions over you, feeling more safe than ever, clinging onto him as tightly as possible. You let a whimper slip out and he pulls away from your neck with an expression of concern.

“What is it love” Bucky coos, wiping away the tears that slip you, stroking your cheek while you bite back a sniffle.

“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” You weren't sure what Bucky would want-there was still a war going on. Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-

"Of course sugar" Bucky presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"

-

And of course he gets his happy ending. Because when it's all over, he gets the ring for the girl he loves. He's on one knee, proposing to you with the sweetest words. He treats you like a princess on your wedding night, making love all night long until the sun is up.

There isn't a surface in the house he's left untouched. Nothing makes him more feral than moaning for his pretty wife, constantly taking her hand and wrapping it around his cock, watching that diamond glint with each stroke.

It doesn't take long for you to feel a little squeamish, knowing all the tell tale signs.

The day you tell him he's going to be a dad is one of the happiest days of his life. There isn't a single night that goes by where he isn't nuzzling his face into your tummy, talking to your little one.

Everything was perfecttt.

[chuluoyi]

Baby gojo and daddy gojo not wanting to share mama gojo😭✋i-

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 06:20 P.M 」

aww this is so cute of course this is the first i worked on after getting back from my weekend break <3 and actually i have this one similar ask too so i combined yours with theirs! here's some cute blinking gojo in phantom parade and okay now let us have some crack and make gojo suffer

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

“bwah!” a nudge.

“myah!” a shove.

and then—

“waaa!” a… slap (?) on the cheek.

“huh?” satoru winced, touching where the baby’s palm just connected with his face, blinking rapidly. so he wasn’t imagining things. this really was happening in front of his eyes.

and it was the baby—his baby.

your giggles filled the air in response.

“hey, you,” satoru took on a very stern look and an exaggerated frown, glaring at his own son. the baby merely babbled at him innocently, blinking his wide crystal blue eyes that mirrored his. “bad, bad minion. this is a very serious issue. you shouldn’t do that, you hear?”

the serious issue being each time he tried to lean closer to steal a kiss from you, your son always found a way to repel him away with his tiny hands.

you snorted at his righteous tone. “he’s just protecting me. even your kid knows you’re a danger.”

a gasp left your husband’s shiny lips, mockingly in disbelief. “me? a danger? i make your life a heaven on earth!”

“heav—pfft—”

“i give you love, food, my body—” he emphasized, pointing at himself for a dramatic effect, and you threw your head back, dissolving into a fit of laughter even more, “—heck, i even give you this naughty baby!”

“wha—no! that’s team effort!”

“still! and now he is staging an uprising against me?” satoru cheekily eyed his child, who was now clutching the fabric of your blouse, tiny fingers playing with the shiny diamonds of your necklace—a gift from satoru too, actually.

“look at him go,” he grumbled, his eyes following each little movement his son made, then dramatically yelped when the boy pawed at your breasts. “hey! no touching! those are mine!”

“please.” you almost choked on your laugh. your silly husband always had a way to make things sound funnier than they actually were, and that was what made you fall in love with him more each day, really. “the milk is his!”

“he can have the cow’s! and more importantly, it’s thanks to me that you’re so milky—”

“satoru! you’re so uncouth i can’t—!”

“see? you’re laughing so much! this proves enough that i make you happy every day!”

later that night, after you put your baby to sleep in his crib, satoru gently poked his cheek, his expression tender despite his pursed lips. “he is out like a light…”

satoru might whine a lot, but ultimately, you couldn’t miss the look of adoration and fondness that made him the father of your child. even without saying it out loud, you knew that he would willingly put everything aside and sacrifice anything—first of all, himself—if it was meant for his dearest, most precious treasure.

knowing he'd do the same for you only served to melt your heart even more. and you felt full—so full, in fact, with warmth and love and anything that was soft.

you really do love him, don’t you?

“look at him, he’s like a shrimp,” your husband pointed out, still gazing at his baby in wonder as he kept poking and prodding at the chonky rolls of his little arms, and you thought, nothing could have been more precious than this.

“satoru.”

“yeah?” he turned instantly at the sound of his name, but before he could react further—

you stood on your tiptoes and planted a swift smooch on his cheek, putting the overflowing love you held for him in it. “mwah!”

“…?!”

for the next three seconds, satoru malfunctioned. the brush of your sweet lips on his cheek was so innocent that he was rendered speechless. heat steadily gathered on his face, turning him pink despite himself.

“you…” he groaned, collecting himself, a dopey smile was quickly plastered on his face to cover up his setback as you burst into hearty laughter. “now you’ve started it…” and then he latched on you with a glint of a joker, launching a full-blown tickle attack.

“a—ah! why?! satoru! ahahahaha!”

. . .

safe to say, your wheezes effectively awoke your son from his slumber, and as a bit of payback, you left satoru in the dust to deal with the crying baby, both of them whimpering in unison since he had absolutely no clue how to comfort the little one.