#if i’m wrong that’d be so embarrassing

[richtkin]

wait shut up. i’m rewatching hannibal again and i think im being delusional (or like crazy slow.) but lemme cook rq.

in mizumono, when will sees alana on the floor, she tells him that jacks inside. and will INSTANTLY takes his gun out. and earlier at him and hannibal’s ‘last supper’, he said it was necessary for jack to die.

so could this be…will going in the home with the intention to kill jack and only jack? because i don’t think his gun is directed towards hannibal. wills already stated that if he were to kill hannibal, it would be with his hands. he wouldn’t hide behind the gun. besides it’s evident that will has strong feelings for hannibal at this point.

so if this is the case, it makes the scenes leading up so much more devastating. because will wasn’t there to hurt hannibal but instead to aid him. will is showing that he’s on hannibal’s side, he’s already made his pick. the fox has come to help, but not to help the rabbit. which makes everything so much more of a misunderstanding.

and it makes hannibal’s actions all the more heartbreaking.

hannibal is under the impression that will had chosen jack over him, but will has been on his side all along. hannibals just too blinded by heartbreak and betrayal to notice..

[fantasylandloser]

Winner

Pairing: Coach!Tashi x fem!Reader x Coach!Art

Warnings: 18+, smut, too filled with shame to proofread, dom!tashi, sub!art, sub!reader, mentions of spanking, tashi is so mean in this, art is basically a prop with minimal lines, idk

*******

Training with Tashi Duncan and her husband was an honor. You knew that. You did your very best to remember that; which was hard to do when she had days like this. 

“Are you scared of the fucking ball?” You shake your head, but you know better than that at this point. 

“Speak up!” You flinch before you can stop yourself. 

“No, I'm not scared of the ball.” You say.

“I would hope not- considering how long you’ve been doing this. That’d surely be a disappointment to your little fan club that you love so much. “ Tashi watched the way your eyebrows tinge only for a moment, at the mention of the onlookers who follow your career closely. 

It was no secret that you had a great appreciation for the love that they’d shown you, but it was almost like you were completely unaware of how quickly it would be gone if you weren’t up to par at all times. 

From afar Art watched the scene play out. You were the player that Tashi was the hardest on. He was sure it was to do with the fact that you were just like her. Well except for the fact that you lacked confidence in your abilities. Another reason she was hard on you. She wouldn’t see your potential wasted. But you worked hard like her, tennis was the love of your life like her. 

He watched as Tashi served to you, intense and laser focused. Then you, playing back with the same intensity and just as passionate. It’s almost magical to watch until you hesitate and miss the ball. 

Tashi’s on your ass before the ball can even hit the ground. “What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you in it?” 

You stammer a reply that Art can’t hear. Probably an apology. His feet are moving closer before he can even think of a reason why. 

“No, tell me. What’s got you so off your game lately? Because you’re not going to fucking embarrass me at your next matches because you can’t get your head out your ass.”

“Tash lighten up.” He’s ignored which is to be expected. She stares at you intensely awaiting your answer. 

“How am I supposed to lighten up when she’s playing like she never held a racket before, huh?” Again she sees the twitch in your eyebrows. Good, you’re angry. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know-” Tashi holds up her hand. She doesn’t want your apology. 

“You know what- if you don’t want to tell me what the problem is,” She grabs your phone which has been continuously lighting up since you started. “I’m sure this will.’

You draw in a breath of air in surprise but you make no move to stop her. Your eyes wide at the invasion, but still ever so respectful even when your privacy is being violated. 

Almost immediately her eyebrows sprout up. “I thought we agreed on no boyfriends for this reason?” she shakes her head continuing to scroll through your phone as if it were hers. Art draws closer to her in interest, now intrigued about your phone as well, 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You’re embarrassed, your grip on your racket tightening as you get angry at the way she’s shaming you.

“Obviously.” She mutters. She pauses a moment, both her and Art sharing a look and you know they’ve gotten to the most mortifying part. 

“Well if something would shake someone’s confidence it would be that.” You cringe, finally going to take your phone back only to be pushed back by Tashi.

“What did we talk about when it came to how you let people talk to you off the court and how it affects your game on the court?” You barely refrain from rolling your eyes.

“I can’t control what other people say” You can’t stop the edge in your voice. 

“But you can control what you say. You didn’t even try to stand up for yourself. This-” She shoves the phone at you with a picture of you half naked with the word unfuckable, in the center of the screen. “Is pathetic. “ You look away when she starts scrolling more like you don’t already know the rest of the verbal assault that had been issued towards you, and then a video of your so-called boyfriend with your next opponent and the lewd graphics that came with it. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?” You don’t mean for your response to be so angry. Or for the hot tears that started burning your eyes to fall. But the frustrations of your day had started to take a toll on you. So when you finally snatch your phone back from Tashi and get ready to storm off you miss the pleased look on her face. Art doesn’t though, he almost shakes his head knowing it was her intention to rile you up in the first place.

She raises an eyebrow at him, and just as she expects him to, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close. The perfect good cop. “It’s okay, kid.” You’re tense in his arms, it reminds him of the times he’s tried to comfort Tashi and she wouldn’t allow it, but after a few moments of him rubbing your back you finally relax. .

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” You start, but Tashi interrupts. 

“Apologize for standing up for yourself and I’ll make you run until you pass out.” You wipe your eyes roughly and nod. Stepping away from Art’s hug and trying your best to put your game face back on. 

“You got that out of your system now?” You nod again, but after a pointed gaze you speak.

“Yes.” 

“Good now let’s talk about how you respond to this kind of bad sportsmanship.” 

******

The outfit Tashi has you in, is just barely appropriate, You look focused, despite the whistles you’ve received on your way in. You look a little angry actually. 

Art glances at Tashi beside him, who looks all too pleased. “What’d you do?” 

“I didn’t have to do anything.” She’s almost bragging. He follows her line of sight to Tashi’s opponent and sees her and your not boyfriend smirking at you. 

He wants to ask Tashi if she thinks this will shake your confidence more, but then he looks back at you laser focused as you stretch and he decides not to question it. 

The match starts off intense with your serve. Your opponent looks surprised and even though she quickly recovers. Art can tell that this will be a win for you even though he knows Tashi despises that kind of over confident thinking. 

As the match continues Tashi is gripping her seat for support. So enthralled in the game and invested in the fearlessness you’re displaying she can barely contain herself. 

At one point during a break you’re caught trash talking your opponent. Tashi is sure to get you for it later. Even though the only thing she hears clearly is “enjoy my sloppy seconds” with a saccharine smile on your face. The deduction you receive is definitely worth it. 

When you win as expected. Tashi is nearly buzzing and Art can’t hold back his excitement either. 

****

“See this is what happens when you’re a winner.” Tashi tells you. She quite literally holding Art’s balls as he fucks into you. 

“Winners are fuckable, tell her Art.” He gasps, feeling her squeeze him. 

“Fuck-” He breathes. “Did so good.” You spasm around him at the praise, pulling a loud groan from him. “Knew you were gonna win, kid.”

Your whines and whimpers are muffled by Tashi’s hand. “Fuck her faster, she’s gonna come.” Art obeys immediately despite the fact that he is much too close himself. Your eyes roll back at the change of pace. 

“There you go.” She squeezes Art’s balls once you start cumming so that he can too. He tries to pull himself out of you before but he can’t and leaves a sticky mess all over your cunt. “Fuck”

Tashi mounts you before you can stop twitching, lining her pussy up with yours, holding your leg over her shoulder. “Now next time I tell you to do something,, you’ll listen to me.” She starts slowly, spreading the mixture of both you and Art’s orgasm on both of you. 

“Isn’t that right?” You nodding makes her speed up, giving you that look of disapproval. 

“Use your words.”

“Yes, yes, yes I’ll listen to you.”

“Yeah I know you will, because now you know what good girls get.” She continues to grind against you skilfully.

“And next time you don’t listen to me-” You feel your core tense up again. “I will spank you until you cry.” Just like that you’re gone again. The masochistic side of you envisioning the picture that will haunt your fantasies until you get it. 

You don’t realize the loud moan you hear is you, until Art is kissing you sloppily to silence your cries. ‘You like that don’t you?” You hear Tashi say. You want to tell her yes but you can’t with Art’s tongue down your throat. You think she knows the answer anyway.

The contrast between the way that Tashi is fucking you so vigorously and the slow kisses Art is giving you puts your head in a spin. On top of that your overstimulated clit is making it hard for you to think at all. 

“Coach please-” You beg. “My pussy can’t;” You’re cut off immediately. 

“Who knows what's best for you? Me or you?”

“You!” By this time tears are flowing down your face, as you feel another orgasm building all too quickly. Art wipes them, then moves his hands down to pinch your nipples. 

“Exactly. Now cum.”

[chelseeebe]

seven minutes in heaven.

a/n: pure self indulgent smut here i really have no other way to describe this lmfao. i wrote this all in about three hours so please excuse any mistakes bc i had to get the idea out while it was still fresh in the mind. don’t get me wrong i love dominant eddie but let’s be real he’s just not, is he? he’s a fumbling little virgin and i love that

18+. smut. alcohol. sex with someone in the room (don’t do this. this is fiction.) eddie is so pathetically down bad for reader and also a virgin! they’re in college rather than hs bc i’m too old to be writing about teenagers here

‎♡‧₊˚

eddie’s insanely nervous when the bottle starts spinning, anticipating the dread of having to get in that tiny closet with well.. literally anyone.

he wasn’t exactly well versed when it came to sexual encounters. he’d barely just kissed a girl for the first time last year and had been successful in avoiding any and all games of this nature. it’s not like he didn’t want to, he just didn’t want to embarrass himself nor disappoint whichever poor soul had to stuff themselves into that closet with him.

it spins and spins until it lands on chrissy and some dude he’d just met tonight. breathing a silent sigh of relief as he now gets a further seven minutes to think up some excuse as to why he couldn’t kiss his match.

his ringed finger circles the top of the glass bottle, clinking against it in some unrecognisable beat. maybe he could run to the bathroom as soon as they came out? at least he’d have to miss another go, be free of the embarrassment a little while longer.

eddie’s eyes glide around the circle, eyeing up the potential matches. there’s robin, who absolutely not interested in him and especially not anyone of his gender. nancy, she’s cute but one hundred percent not his type and he’s sure that the fact both of her exes are sat in the room would mean they could get out of kissing. a few other girls that he’s sure would kiss him but they wouldn’t be thrilled about it. then there’s you. sat with your legs crossed, skirt riding up your supple thighs and a shirt that hung low enough that you shouldn’t have even bothered wearing one.

he only notices that he’s staring when steve makes some lewd comment about the noises coming from the closet. tearing his eyes off of your chest and onto the rowdy man.

oh shit, what if it lands on a guy? at least maybe they could just shuffle off and pretend to make kissy noises, see that’d be easy.

before he’s able to jump up and run off, chrissy and the unnamed guy stumble out of the closet, giggling with their cheeks flushed.

oh god oh god oh god.

‘ya have fun in there?’ steve bellows, clearly intoxicated and obviously way too eager to have his turn. why couldn’t he just be more like him, eddie thinks.

steve spins the bottle again. going round and round and round until it stops, the lipped edge facing you.

please no. please literally anyone other than him.

if he was clueless with the other girls he wouldn’t have a fucking clue what to do with you.

‘oh shiiit,’ steve hisses as he sends the bottle flying again.

it slows down just before him, thinking he’d escaped once again until the glass stops. pointing right at his gormless face. he blinks at the bottle, trying with all his might to send it flying again through some undiscovered telekinetic energy or some shit.

it doesn’t. obviously. because he’s not fucking superman.

‘come on,’ you speak, stood before him with your hand extended. oh fuck. he’s not sure he can even take your hand. it’s far too clammy and he’d expose his super-virgin status.

he groans getting up from the floor, gingerly taking your hand and following you through the corridor to the closet. his heart in his throat the entire time. he thinks he might just throw up. unsure of if it’s from the anticipation or just sheer terror of having to try and kiss you.

with your fucking tiny skirt and your perfect tits pressed against him. there’s no way he won’t pop a fucking boner. oh god, what if-

‘you okay?’ you ask, shuffling into the small space opposite with the tiny flecks of light shining on your smile. he hadn’t even noticed you’d shut the door, too caught up in his own head to realise that this was now and he was going to have to do something before you ran out of there laughing.

‘yeah- yeah,’ nodding frantically as he attempts to collect himself. maybe you didn’t wanna kiss him? you’d make some polite excuse about having a boyfriend or something and then you could stand and make small talk for the excruciatingly long seven minutes.

‘good,’ you mumble before closing the already tiny gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a haste.

eddie’s head is empty. absolutely nothing going on inside. frozen in time as your lips move against his. he should do something. he just doesn’t know what.

‘what? you never kissed a girl before?’ you scoff, pulling away slightly. are you mocking him? or is this flirting? fuck, why don’t they make books for this kinda shit?

‘y-yeah i have..’ he mumbles, arms still limply hung around his sides. if you could see his face right now, he’d be comparable to a ripe beetroot.

‘so kiss me back then?’ you giggle, connecting your lips once again, soft hand coming to caress his warm cheek.

okay, yeah. just.. kiss back.

he does what he thinks is right, eyes fluttering shut as his lips move with yours. this is good, he thinks. it feels right.

your other hand reaches out to grab his wrist, moving his hand to rest on your waist. giggling into his mouth, your breath tasting like alcohol and a hint of mint. it’s sweet, addicting almost as he chases the taste with his mouth.

adrenaline racing through his veins when your hand leaves his wrist and tangles into his hair, fingernails tracing along his sensitive scalp. he has to restrain himself from moaning into your mouth. it’s an entirely new sensation for him, makes his cock twitch in his tight jeans. he can’t stop thinking about how much he wants you to just tug it, pull his head back with your delicate fingers.

your knee slides between his legs, thick thigh nudging the growing bulge in his pants. letting out the most embarrassing noise into your mouth. before he even has time to curse himself for it your tongue slips into his mouth, using the opportunity to push your chest further into his.

deciding now to be brave, his hand shakily meets your shoulder, holding you in that exact position. he could stay here forever, he wouldn’t need anything else in life. ever.

your lips pull back slightly and he whimpers. literally whimpers in response to the sudden lack of attention. feeling your smile grow against his now swollen lips. who the fuck whimpers? if he hadn’t already established his virgin-ness, he definitely had now.

‘is that good, yeah?’ you breathe, the words almost sending him into cardiac arrest. they sound as if they’re dipped in honey coming from your sweet lips.

he nods quickly, unable to form a coherent response without looking like an utter fool. opening his eyes just enough to see you staring up at him through your lashes. if he weren’t leant against the wall, he’s sure he’d collapse into a puddle of goo.

‘what if i do.. this?’ palm sliding down over his neck and heaving chest before stopping at his belt buckle, waiting for a sign to continue.

his adams apple bobs as he swallows and you take it as a compliment and sliding your hand on top of his very obvious boner.

he’s a goner.

grip tightening on your shoulder as his breath stutters. willing himself not to cum in his pants right then and there. he would never ever live that down. not with that meathead harrington who would definitely pull him up on it the second you left.

‘oh yeah?’ you remark, smirking in the darkness at his pathetic stature. slowly moving your fingers as you palm him through his jeans. your hardened nipples brushing against his chest because of fucking course you weren’t wearing a bra.

there’s no way he’s making it out of this cupboard alive.

‘h-holy shit,’ he chokes out, eyelids fluttering as he fights off fainting. his head is fuzzy, sorta like how he felt when he got high and jerked off except so so much better.

‘maybe we could.. continue this later?’ muttering quietly so as to avoid anyone outside hearing.

he’s well aware that you only have at most a minute or so left before someone rips open that door and reveals the pitiful mess he is. the sentence doesn’t register for a few seconds until he realises what you meant.

‘y-yes,’ he finally responds, overly eager, ‘please,’ ashamed at how desperate he sounded. he’s sure that he’d kill someone for just one extra minute in here with you. not entirely sure how he would be able to hold on until later.

you don’t reply with words, mashing your lips together one last time before someone hammers on the door, signalling that his seven minutes in actual heaven were over.

‘get out you horny fucks, i want a turn!’ steve jokes from the other side, making you spring apart before he comes crashing into the room.

you smile at him again, seemingly so innocent when he knows you’re anything but.

the bright light of the hallway makes him blink before you bound off back to whoever’s room you were playing him. leaving him with the worlds most awkward stiffy and absolutely no way to hide it from the prying eyes of the fellow players.

‘god damn munson, are you alright?’ steve laughs at his outwardly flustered appearance. eddie is so fucking grateful that the boy is too invested in getting his turn to pay full attention to the obvious tent in his jeans.

sliding into his spot, discreetly moving one of the cushions to his lap. he doesn’t give a shit about the game, too busy wondering just when later would be.

it goes on and on.

robin and nancy head off to the closet, receiving a few woos from the gaggle of people.

then it lands on argyle and jonathan, the larger man having to drag jonathan into the closet with an excited wiggle of his brows.

steve’s fuming at every turn that isn’t his, throwing his hands into the air when it lands on anyone other than him.

and then the bottle goes spinning again, stopping on you. eddie’s not sure if it’s jealousy that it could land on anybody else or desperate hope that it lands on him again.

it doesn’t, goes flying right past him and ends up stopping right in front of steve who jumps up, absolutely ecstatic that he finally gets to go into that damn closet.

eddie’s eyes meet yours, ducking his head slightly and hoping that the searing envy wasn’t so apparent on his features. you give him a little shrug and that same damning smile before getting off the floor.

‘c’mon then big boy,’ rolling your eyes as steve pulls you into the closet.

eddie’s seething with jealousy and he’s not even sure why. you weren’t his like, this wasn’t an exclusive contract that meant you could only play the game with him. near enough drawing blood as his teeth dig into his bottom lip. it’s the thought of it. of steve and his big hands and his exuding levels of confidence. infuriating him to no end.

‘you good bro?’ jonathan nudges his elbow, completely unaware that he had been glaring at the same stain on the carpet for what must have been minutes.

‘me? yeah.. i’m good,’ standing to grab himself another beer. thank fuck the boner had subsided. at one point he had seriously considered disappearing to the bathroom to relieve himself but a few thoughts of his sixth grade math teacher naked had killed it completely.

he pops the top off with his ring, taking a long hard swig of the beer, counting the seconds until you’d reappear from the hallway. this would be the perfect time to grow some goddamn balls and show you how he felt. he could slide right into the spot next to you, maybe even extend an arm around your shoulder. you know, really hammer it home.

‘it’s been seven minutes,’ he blurts out instead, appearing more as a jealous weirdo than the cool, outgoing guy he so wished to be. stupid. internally cussing himself out.

‘you were in there for eight minutes, dude,’ robin laughs, shoulders shaking at his eagerness. great, now everyone in the room knew he was a possessive, jealous freak.

‘hah.. yeah right,’ shuffling back to his spot with the worst attempt at playing at cool that he’d ever seen. swallowing the gigantic lump in his throat and watching the doorway like a fucking hawk.

‘seven minutes stevie.. that’s it,’ your voice echoes and you finally reappear, pulling at the strap of your shirt, readjusting it to its rightful position on your shoulder.

‘holy shit,’ steve remarks, his stupidly perfect hair all messed up, red cheeks to match. eddie longs to grab his collar and pummel his fist into his face. he doesn’t of course, that’d make him look really normal.

instead he chooses to read the label of the beer bottle rather intently, ignoring the feeling of your eyes boring into him. perhaps later would never arrive and he’d just have to move on with his life.

the party dies down and eventually the game gets abandoned, party goers slinking off home or to the bedrooms or as argyle had, passing out on the couch. now would be the perfect time to scarper off to his dorm, not like anyone would notice he was gone. you certainly wouldn’t. not with steve hanging around your feet like a lost puppy.

when the music cuts out, he knows it’s time to go. later was quite clearly not coming. and neither was he. well, he would. just when he got home.

‘well, i’m going to bed,’ you announce, pushing yourself from the couch, staring directly at him. is that a hint? is this later? god, he doesn’t know.

hesitating just a moment too long as steve interjects first, ‘me too.. you don’t mind if i crash here, do you?’

your eyebrows raise slightly, still staring him down. waiting for a response well, for anything from eddie.

‘i-i’ll take the couch, if that’s okay?’ thinking that maybe your lack of response was also a hint? it’s really not clear and he just wishes that you’d directly tell him what to do.

‘sure.. knock yourself out,’ you shrug, a tinge of disappointment in your voice. so it was a hint. you wanted eddie to volunteer to stay in your room, he gets it now! now that it’s way too late.

‘great! well, i guess we’re roomies,’ steve smirks, gazing over at you. disgustingly smug in the way his hand lingers on the small of your back. that should be him. if only he wasn’t such a bumbling idiot he might’ve been the one leading you up the stairs. fingers sprawled out on your back and a mischievous grin to match.

he takes his spot on the couch, shuffling out of the denim jacket that had clung to him all night. he’s sure he can hear a distant banging, some muffled moans and a squeaky mattress. or maybe it’s his subconscious playing cruel, horrid tricks on him. whatever it is, he hates that it’s got him excited. it’s incredibly disgusting and perverted but he can’t help it. he’d sported a slight chub for most of the night which was definitely not helping right now.

tossing on the uncomfortable couch until his head is buried in the cushion and he can’t hear it anymore. certainly rock solid as his eyes squeeze shut. oh fuck. the bathroom seemed like a perfectly valid idea now, that wasn’t weird right?

just before he can convince himself to get up and go the stairs creak and he can hear a soft padding of feet climbing down. freezing in his spot, hips pressed into the soft cushion so as to not give away his precarious position. it’s just someone getting water, at least he hopes.

‘are you a fuckin’ idiot?’ your voice whispers harshly from the doorway, muttering curses under your breath as you stumble across the room to the couch.

‘w-what?’ he speaks, turning his head but leaving his body flat against the back of the sofa. now he definitely didn’t want you to see that.

‘you were supposed to- fuck, where are you?’ groaning as your toe collides with the coffee table, still blindly feeling your way to the couch.

‘here,’ he calls, holding his arm out for you to find.

using his voice to finally find the stupid couch, fumbling around as your leg slings over his sideways turned thighs, ‘why are you lying like that? move,’ speaking in hushed voices, trying not to wake the gentle giant on the opposite sofa.

your bossiness certainly doesn’t make matters any better, his dick straining against the denim as he reshuffles, lying flat on his back. he’s grateful that you’d straddled his thighs and not his raging boner.

‘you were supposed to say that you were staying with me, you idiot,’ sitting tall atop his legs.

his hands are suspended in the air, hesitant to touch you. or touch the wrong part of you even. eddie’s brain reboots when you shuffle upwards, mouth running dry as the cogs turn ever so slowly to formulate a reply.

‘i- wha? i thought.. you and steve.. uh, in the closet?’ his eyes somewhat adjusting to the darkness, just about making out your figure and your furrowed brows. oh god it’s so hot- you’re so hot when you’re mad. his mind flashing back to that dingy closet and how fucking good your hand felt in his hair.

‘no,’ you grimace, ‘i don’t want to fuck steve, i want to fuck you.. are you stupid?’ coming to place your hands on his chest. sure that you could feel his heart pounding through his shirt. ‘he just touched my tits a little and besides, i hid in the bathroom until he passed out.. you are stupid.’

his mouth opens and subsequently shuts again without any words forming. there weren’t any. yes. yes he was stupid. quite clearly. most people probably would’ve gathered what was going on when you’d fondled his balls and very obviously stated that you wanted to fuck him later. well, eddie wasn’t most people.

‘you do?’ is all that he manages to squeeze out, sounding like a small child. eyes shining bright in the little light leaking through the curtains.

‘oh my god,’ you complain, leaning down to connect your lips, wanting to shut him up if nothing else.

even now, he’s still taken aback but he’s not completely brain dead yet as his hands find your hips. see? didn’t even need your guidance this time.

your hips grind down against his, pyjama shorts riding up as you move. eddie’s positively gutted that he can’t see them in this light, he knows they’re soft, can feel that at least. he’s more confident now, a new air about him that just wasn’t there mere hours ago. he thinks that maybe it’s because there isn’t a room full of his friends listening to your every move outside.

that or the sheer level of arousal coursing his veins.

but his tongue is the one to slip into your mouth, noting that you’d definitely brushed your teeth and he wished he’d done the same. your fingers walk the length of his chest, coming between your bodies to his belt buckle.

this is it. he’s going to lose his virginity. and to you no less. oh fuck.

you pull away, tapping on his chest with your other hand, ‘sit up,’ forefinger hooked into one of his belt loops.

he obliges immediately, shifting to sit back against the arm rest. making sure to hold onto your waist as he does. you feel so soft, his fingers melding into your skin perfectly. the cold metal of his rings leaving tiny indentations as his grip tightens. he’d do anything you asked him to, especially if you were poised above him like this.

your hand goes back to working his belt off, unbuttoning his jeans and working them down his thighs. brushing against his length with your fingers. he’s almost panting, head lolling back instinctively, stifling the ungodly moan that had found itself in the back of his throat.

‘look at me,’ you whisper, still tracing the veiny cock beneath you.

his head shoots up, looking back into your eyes. desperate to please you, abiding by any and all instructions that you barked just incase he fucked this up. he would have to pack his bags and flee the country if he did. not sure that he would be able to live with himself.

‘are you a virgin?’ you ask quietly and he feels his cheeks flush immediately.

was it that obvious? the fact that he’d popped a boner the second you’d kissed him was probably a dead giveaway, actually. you don’t seem to care.. he has no reason to lie. unless this is all one big prank and you’re actually about to climb off of him and start laughing.

it’s totally shameful but actually that’d probably still get him off.

‘yeah..’

you nod, taking your eyes off of his to look down at his cock. there’s a tiny wet patch which had actually most likely been there for hours when he thinks about it.

‘you want to, don’t you? we don’t have to.. could suck you off or something?’

‘n-no no, i want to.. trust me, i want to,’ sounding as desperate as humanly possible. over his dead body would he would fuck this up. now he’s not sure how long he’ll last but he’s sure it won’t be long.

‘okay.. good,’ you smirk, bringing the waistband of his boxers down. his cock springs up to his stomach and his eyes flit shut. was his dick small? is that something you cared about? he didn’t have much to go off here except from porn and even he knew that wasn’t exactly realistic.

he can hear you spit into your hand and he’s back to full attention, watching as it drops into your palm and trying his hardest not to cum right now. with your chin shining and your lips wet, it’s all too much.

and when your tender hand covered in your spit wraps around the base of his cock, he chokes on nothing. fingernails leaving crescent moon shapes in your hips, certain that he’s probably hurting you but unable to let go without busting a nut.

you pump your hand a few times, watching intently as he struggles to stay with it. it’s heaven. no no, it’s better than heaven. better than anything he’d ever experienced in his entire life. and the man had gotten creative with some of his masturbation sessions to say the least.

a snore rips through the room and it’s then that he’s reminded of the other man passed out on the other side of the room, ‘shit.. sh-should we carry on?’ nervously taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

‘just be quiet, he won’t wake up,’ ignoring the drunkard and continuing to pump your hand.

eddie’s unsure if it’s you or if he’s feeling things but he can feel a something wet on his thigh. not brave enough to take his hand down there to find out.

‘you sure you want to?’ leaving your hand at the base of his cock to move yourself upwards.

‘y-yes.. please,’ nodding like a maniac.

that’s all the confirmation you need to shift your shorts out of the way, sitting straighter on your knees and positioning his tip at your sopping entrance.

he’s not prepared one bit for how intense it feels. the sensation sends shockwaves through his entire body, sending his head spinning.

lowering yourself down onto him with a soft sigh, hands now finding his shoulders for leverage. eddie’s about to start levitating. you’re so warm, enveloping him inside just right. the second you move, he’ll probably start crying.

his eyes struggle to stay open, rolling to the back of his head. moaning far too loudly when your hips move forward causing your hand to clamp right over his mouth. as if that wouldn’t make him cum ten times faster.

‘shh,’ you hiss, working your hips at a steady rhythm. soft squeaks leaving your own mouth with every bounce but keeping your eyes steady on him. enjoying the sight of him coming completely undone underneath your body.

your hand leaves his shoulder for a second, manoeuvring his hand onto your chest, ‘touch me,’ mewling when he gets the gist and starts palming your tit. the feel of your hardened nipples underneath his palm only sending him hurtling faster towards his already fast approaching orgasm.

he’s one second away from blurting out that he’s in love with you. which he doesn’t think is far off of the truth to be honest.

you trust him enough to not start babbling and take your hand from his mouth, grabbing onto his shoulder again to quicken your pace. clit catching against the patch of pubes he wishes he had time to tame. it was driving him fucking insane, knowing that he was the reason you were panting and cursing under your breath.

there it is. that familiar sensation of something tightening in his stomach, except a hundred times more intense than anything he’d ever felt before. quickly shaking his head to give you some forewarning though it’s pretty useless.

‘f-fuck, oh fuck,’ lifting his hips from the couch to empty himself into you. eddie could’ve never imagined that this is what you would feel like. pure ecstasy vibrating through his limbs, spurts of white hot pleasure exploding behind his eyelids.

his thighs shaking as he collapses back into the couch, still mumbling a bunch of sorries as he attempts to float back down to planet earth. he’d lasted a measly few minutes and for that, he wanted to curl up and die. if it weren’t for the fact that you were so fucking sexy and so warm and so perfect- he probably would’ve lasted at least a couple minutes more.

eddie’s eyes stay closed as you climb off of him, readjusting your shorts as you settle on his thighs once again, ‘you back in the room yet?’ chuckling quickly, leering down at him.

a strangled laugh falls out of his lips, daring to look at you. ashamed even though he knows it’s not that bad. sure he’d lasted longer than at least one other person out there.

‘sorry.. i swear, gimme like.. like ten minutes..’ doing everything in his power to convince you not to leave. because truthfully if you stayed like this, he probably would be hard again in a matter of minutes.

‘hey.. it’s okay,’ you lean down, chest flat against his, ‘don’t worry ‘bout it,’ head perfectly tilted to gaze up into his eyes. maybe he wouldn’t need ten minutes at all. not with the way you’re looking at him like that, doe eyed and whispering sweet words of encouragement into his ear.

‘wanna.. uh,’ the words stick in his throat, ‘wanna get you off,’ blushing despite the fact his dick had literally just been buried inside of you. it’s ridiculous really.

‘you can.. don’t worry,’ pressing your lips to the stubble beneath his chin.

his cock twitches at the sensation and he truly realises how completely pathetic he was. fully at your mercy but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[peppermint-toads]

*not proofread at all not even a little*

simon had finally, finally left you the fuck alone.

he’d been staying the night at your apartment for days on end, not that you minded. not really, at least.

you only started getting frustrated when you started getting… frustrated.

he’d left to go do some grocery shopping because you had “no fucking food in your house.” he needed to eat. sue him.

you played it casual, shrugging and throwing a sarcastic apology at him as he left. as soon as the door slammed shut, you were running to your bedroom and flinging open your nightstand drawer.

you grabbed your pink vibrator, a nice g-spot one.

this had to be quick. you’d never live it down if simon came home to see you in the midst of that. you got right to business, holding the power button until the familiar buzz overtook you.

you didn’t hear simon reentering. cheeky bastard only caused a ruckus when he was leaving.

“forgot it’s sunday love, shops are closed by now,” simon chuckled to himself. you didn’t respond, and you were nowhere to be seen. ah, your door was closed. you probably just wanted a nap.

simon approached, and his heart dropped when he heard cries of pain? he was immediately reaching for the door handle, but then the pain morphed into a sound he’d never heard you make. it was whinier than a cry of pain. it gave him pause.

“holy fuck! yes, yes, yes, yes!”

oh.

simon was totally not supposed to hear you climaxing.

he heard rustling behind the door and the squeak of your mattress as you got up. he’d memorized every creak the floor made and you were heading straight for him.

he took a few steps back as to hopefully look casual.

you opened your door with your eyes squeezed shut, arms reaching into the air as you stretched, shaking off the last bits of stress that washed away with your orgasm.

when you opened your eyes you were met with a rather stiff looking simon. why was he feeling so embarrassed? he’d gone to war for chrissakes and can’t handle just hearing the female orgasm?

luckily, you were completely oblivious.

“shops are closed. it’s sunday.” he repeated, more meekly this time.

“oh, okay. i’m sure there’s something in there. i’ll whip somethin’ up for you after i shower.”

you shoved past him and into the bathroom. the squeak of the shower head was mere background noise to all the thoughts racing through simon’s brain.

he stood paralyzed for at least two minutes.

the sliver of mussed sheets he could see through your cracked door was all too tempting.

he sat on your warm bed, and he swore he could smell you. he looked over at your nightstand. no. he shouldn’t. he can’t. that’d be wrong. so, so wrong.

andddd he’s reaching for the drawer.

he sees the toy, can see the slick on it from where you’d hastily shoved it back in just in case simon came home before you could clean it.

it was still warm. he looked at it, imagined the almost painful moans tearing from your throat. and he laughed. he laughed! the absolute gall of this man.

he’s sorry, it was just so small compared to him. he’d hate to imagine the struggle you’d go through taking him. he actually doesn’t hate it. he really loves it. loves it so much actually, all the blood in his entire giant body rushes right to his cock.

he leaves. immediately. he runs, literally runs, back to his apartment to rub one out. he returns to your apartment about an hour later with takeout in hand.

“didn’t want you to have to cook anything, love,” he lied. and you were none the wiser

[hoodoo12]

Sweltering

First and foremost, fuck this heat. I've always preferred colder to warmer, and nowadays the summer is just a hellscape. Therefore, a story.

It's too hot outside, and The Ghost with the Most thinks he has a way to cool you down. NSFW.

It was stupid hot. Inside with no air conditioning was worse, so you were out on the patio in your backyard in nothing more than the thinnest tank top you owned and underwear. You’d brought a fan that was specifically labeled “for indoor use only!” out, plugged in by multiple extension cords that also said to only use them indoors, and had it going full blast right at your body.

You were sweating through what little clothing you had on. Your brain felt melted. The ice cream sandwich you thought would help cool you down did nothing.

Without warning or fanfare, Beetlejuice appeared at your side.

You hadn’t called him. You just never re-said his name after the last time you’d summoned him, and now this was the arrangement. He just came and went how he pleased, like a tom cat. You hoped he didn’t fuck around like an unneutered cat, but you were also realistic. There was never any label to the thing you had with him, although there was something to be said in that he kept returning.

“Jesus! You’re wearing that suit? It’s over 95 degrees out here!” you complained at him. Then you took a lick around the edge of the ice cream, because it was melting faster than your brain.

The ghost looked down over himself.

“Well fuckin' good day to you too,” he grumbled. “And what’s wrong with my suit?”

“I already said it was so damn hot! How can you wear that in this heat?!”

He rolled his eyes. “Because I’m a dead guy, sweetcheeks. I don’t feel the heat. I don’t feel the cold. It’s all the same to me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, in both disbelief and a titch of jealousy. “Must be nice.”

He shrugged. “I suppose. If you mean not feeling much of anything.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “You don’t feel much of anything? Then why’re you sporting a boner behind your fly?”

Instead of being embarrassed, a reaction that would have surprised you, he rubbed his palm over his crotch as he leered down at you. “My dick’s hard because you’re laying in front of me basically nude, baby, with sticky white stuff dripping all over your hand.”

Your ice cream! In the seconds you’d forgotten about it, it melted just as he said, leaving trails down your hand and wrist. With an inarticulate cry of surprised dismay, you immediately started to lick the mess off your hand, mostly managing to smear wet sugar over your skin instead of actually removing it.

“You know, I’ve got something just as chilly that’d fit in your mouth.”

Your tongue still in your palm, you flicked a glance at him. You’d expect nothing less from the ghost watching what you were doing with keen, hungry interest. Beetlejuice hadn’t stopped rubbing himself through his trousers and you saw him give himself a squeeze that was none to gentle.

“Oh?” you replied innocently. “You think something like that’d cool me down?”

“Fuckin’ heat you up, more like,” he growled. “I know how much you like suckin’ my cock.”

This hadn’t been on your agenda today, but his unexpected arrival did make you think dirty thoughts. Shoving the remaining bite of the ice cream sandwich into your mouth, you gave up trying to clean off your hand and spun in the lounge chair so he was between your legs. Looking up at him, you grinned even as you reached for the button and zipper on his trousers.

As your fingers undid the fastenings, you said, “This is all for me then, huh? Sucking you off is all for me, because you don’t feel much of anything?”

You dug into the front of his pants--he never wore underwear, so you didn’t have to contend with that barrier--and eased his cock out. Grub-pale and heavy in your hand, it did have a distinct chill that wasn’t unpleasant in this blasted heat.

Beetlejuice looked down at you with half-lidded eyes, drawing a thumb over his lower lip. “I think you know the answer to that, babydoll. Now you just gonna sit there? That sandworm isn’t gonna suck itself.”

Even as you rolled your eyes again that he called his dick a sandworm, you obediently opened your mouth and he rocked his hips. Because you were holding him by the base of his cock, it was the perfect position to slip between your lips and onto your tongue. You loosened your jaw; you knew he tended to pop himself forward once in your mouth and--

Beetlejuice thrust, his cock filling your mouth almost to your throat.

--yep, there it was.

The second he was encased in your mouth, you sucked him hard.

He groaned. A hand went to the back of your head and fingers entangled into your hair. You gave him a few sucking strokes, and on one of the outward pulls, he yanked back a little so your face tilted backward.

“Look up at me,” he ordered.

You barely contained another eye roll. Instead, you concentrated on doing as he asked, keeping your eyes trained upward as best you could bobbing on his cock. Along with the movement, you alternated swirling your tongue around him and applying heavy solid suction. He’d been correct; his cock was chilly in your mouth, although not quite as cold as the ice cream had been and nowhere near as tasty.

The ghost continued to groan and now gasp at each sensation you wrung from him. He tipped his head back, and you saw his throat work as he swallowed.

Without warning, you pulled off him. He gasped again, for a different reason, and dropped his gaze back to you. His mouth was open and he looked a little stuporous, as well as surprised.

“Look at me,” you ordered him.

He swallowed again and nodded quickly. You quirked an eyebrow at him as if to silently say he better not forget to keep his eyes trained downward. Then, keeping your eyes locked on his, you went back to work with even more vigor.

There was a little more intimacy, with direct eye contact. As much intimacy as sitting outside in basically nothing, sucking a basically fully clothed ghost’s cock could be. You laughed as best you could with that cock down your throat at what you must look like and what the neighbors would think if they happened to see you. Beetlejuice continued to moan and tightened his hand in your hair, as if he thought you were laughing at him. His hips rocked forward to shove himself in a little deeper.

The head of his cock choked off your air supply and cut your chuckle short. Now it was his turn to cock an eyebrow at you, daring you to say something or stop. Without taking your mouth off him you narrowed your eyes and worked him even harder.

You sucked, your swirled, you didn’t swallow any of the thick spit blowing him built up in your mouth. It ran out of your mouth and soaked your chin and neck; when you deep throated him it drenched his rat’s nest of pubic hair and trousers. Pulling back after keeping him fully inside you raised your eyes again. He locked eyes with yours even as drool beaded on his own lower lip. It became too heavy to remain there, and a thin droplet of it fell.

He licked his lip then. “Your fuckin’ mouth baby,” he muttered.

“Uh-huh,” you were able to reply, since that was easier than actual words. He seemed to want to choke out some words, however, so you slowed.

“Told you it was better, didn’t I?” he reminded you. “Nice isn’t it, something that’s cold in that hot mouth of yours that doesn’t melt right away? Fuck, baby, you gonna edge me so you can keep going? You gonna want to keep my cock in your mouth as long as possible--”

That was exactly what you didn’t want. Already his babbling grated on your nerves, like he was the one in charge here. You took him as deep as possible again, with your nose pressed into the wet hair over his pubic bone. Beetlejuice interrupted himself with an open-mouthed groan. You’d have smiled at the power you had over him, but that would break the suction.

Keeping his cock exactly where it was, you used your tongue to press it up against your hard palate for some variety in sensation and paused a second to breathe through your nose. You couldn’t tilt your head up enough to look him in the face again, but from the now involuntary jerks his body gave and the rhythmic tightening of his fingers in your hair, you didn’t need to see his expression to know that he was damn close to blowing his load down your throat.

As if on cue, he rasped, “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come--”

You left off the heavy suction for a second.

“Down your throat or on your skin, baby?”

His come would have a distinctly different taste in the back of your throat than the ice cream you’d eaten, so you answered him by releasing him and pulling back a bit. You caught his eyes again, dark even in the sunlight, and grinned up at him. His hand left your hair and went to his own cock.

Beetlejuice gave a slightly different groan at seeing you displayed in front of him. His hand stroked his length easily due to the amount of spit you’d laved him with. You gathered some of the spit that had dripped to your chest and smeared it, making yourself shiny. With the breeze from the fan, your nipples peaked. The grin didn’t leave your face.

The ghost jerked himself off, and broke the rule about keeping eye contact with you. His eyes were riveted to your chest. That was okay; you couldn’t help watching his cock disappear and reappear in his own hand, his pace increasing the closer he got to finishing. When he leaned over and used your shoulder for balance, you knew his end was inevitable.

He squeezed the head of his cock between his thumb and forefinger, then gave another frantic jerk and cried out as he came. Thick, off-white come spurted onto your upper chest, and it was just as chilly as his cock had been. You gasped as it painted you, and you couldn’t help taking one hand to smear it thinly over your skin. It was only slightly less tacky than the ice cream that had melted earlier. His nails dug into your shoulder, and you shrugged it to remind him that you were still a breather and didn’t really appreciate the pain.

Once his cock stopped pulsing and the last of his ejaculate dribbled out, he blew his breath out like he’d run a marathon.

The spunk you’d smeared was even cooler when the air from the fan hit it. You knew the sensation wouldn’t last long, but it was nice for the moment.

“You’re pretty hot, baby,” Beetlejuice complimented.

You gave him a look. “Yeah. I know. That’s the whole problem.”

He smirked and took your upper arm, hauling you to your feet.

“Why don’t I try to cool you down--now gimme a chance to explain, baby!” he said over your attempt to interrupt him. “My entire body is just as chilly as my dick, sweetheart, so me laying on top of you or you laying on top of me is gonna help. And when I say my entire body, I mean my tongue too, so just imagine what that’ll feel like tickling up between your legs. Cool you down from the inside out.”

When he put it that way . . .

Beetlejuice grinned as your expression softened into compliance.

“Come on baby,” he continued. “Let’s get inside where I can really concentrate. Unless you wanna continue to give the neighbors a free show?”

“What?!” you squawked, scrambling for your bra to cover yourself.

He laughed and didn’t let you grab it, pulling you along with him into the house and up to your bedroom. As far as a sweltering day went, at least a corpse-cold lover helped make it better.

fin!

[llamagoddessofficial]

The sirens are always rescuing Mc. But what if, for once, Mc was the one who came to the rescue of a siren...?

Amazing commission, courtesy of the delightful @our-brightest-stars. I love any chance I can take to write more arctic-based stuff!

---

You could immediately tell, upon entering the room, that they had been talking about you. 

Despite the sweet smell of coffee, the air was heavy. The chatter you had been hearing through the door immediately stopped, like you were a teacher that’d walked into a room of gossiping school kids. Four of your colleagues were gathered together around the kitchen table, mugs clasped in their hands - Evan, who you already thought was a bit of a dick, put his hand up to his shut mouth and cast a wide-eyed look to Leo and Tom beside him. Antoni, who you considered something of a friend, had her back to you but sank sheepishly into her beige turtleneck sweater regardless.

You bit the inside of your lip. You could tell from their faces what they had been discussing before you interrupted. You had gotten to know their expressions pretty well, after so long occupying the same cramped arctic research station together.

... Yeah, figured they’d find out eventually. If anything, I’m surprised it took them this long. 

You wordlessly made your way over to the coffee pot, shoes squeaking against the rubber floor. You put your rucksack onto the counter, grabbing your flask out of it, skin prickling from their staring. There was still a significant amount of coffee left - a bonus of working with people who were also coffee addicts was they generally respected the ���never leave the pot empty’ rule. 

You filled your flask. The coffee still had some steam coming off it. Stars, the silence was deafening.

“... Uh... going out?” Antoni asked, plaintively, as you screwed the lid back on and pushed the sealed flask into the mesh on the side of your bag. At least she had the decency to sound ashamed. Leo didn’t do a very good job of hiding his snicker.

“Yeah.” You hefted the bag back onto your shoulders, doing your best to not make eye contact with any of them. 

Evan, clearly, couldn’t contain himself. “Gonna go track down mothman?”

You felt a flush of multiple emotions at the same time. Some embarrassment, some shame, all of it quickly washed away by aggravation. Heat rose to your cheeks, but you held your tongue. You wanted to point out what a stupid fucking thing it was to talk about tracking mothman (a cryptid from West Virginia) in the high arctic, but it was obvious he was baiting you, so you kept your mouth shut.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been made fun of for what you believed in. However... the words stung that little bit more, when it was coming from your fellow scientists. 

“Evan,” Antoni sounded exasperated, “don’t be such a prick.”

Evan raised his hands. “What? So I’m not allowed to ask questions?”

You didn’t respond. You walked past them, headed to the main corridor; you weren’t going to let this spoil your plans. “See you guys later.”

As you left the room, you vaguely heard Antoni and Leo starting to berate Evan in low whispers. Someone definitely called him an asshole, cut off as the door closed behind you.

You sighed. The hallway felt a lot longer than usual. You passed through another set of doors, heavy metal ones, into the cold ‘buffer’ room between the warm research station interior and the outside world. After double checking you had all your gear, you stepped out of the doors, outside into the sun.

People didn’t realise how beautiful the arctic could really be. If you told someone to describe the arctic, they would probably just talk about the ice. And yeah, sure, there was a lot of ice, it would be unreasonable to say someone was wrong for thinking of that. But that was like describing a forest as ‘just trees’. The arctic at this time of year was endless slopes of rugged greens that rolled and swayed and disappeared far away into the horizon and beyond, carved into shape by ancient lakes and glaciers scraping the ground piece by piece once in a millenia. It was a sight to behold. Trees couldn’t take root, only the hardiest shrubs survived, and you were little more than a stone’s throw from the vast sub-zero ocean.

That ocean, a haven for the rarest kinds of sirens, was your goal. 

You tugged your backpack into a more snug position on your shoulders, and continued trudging through the stones and bare grasses. Even now, with the sun high in the air and all but the most stubborn chunks of the ice gone, the arctic was... well, the arctic. It never got warm enough to be comfortable and it was a good idea to just keep moving if you wanted to make it to the shoreline with enough time to actually get some footage before sundown.

You loved your job. Some would call you crazy, for willingly spending months at a time in the arctic circle studying sirens. You’d always been interested in sirens. The mystery and culture wrapped up within them, the inherent danger, so little information could solve so much. Siren studies was one of those areas where even the most fractional of discoveries would be groundbreaking and important.

... Sirens weren’t your true passion, though. Your true passion was what Evan had probably just discovered, and shared with your teammates - why you were lugging such a giant cold-resistant camera kit in your bag with you.

You quietened your thoughts with a swig of warm coffee, and an increased walking pace. 

Would some people call your Youtube channel conspiratorial? Sure. But cryptids were where your heart really lied. Cryptid study, cryptid research, cryptid sightings... you were incredibly proud of the modest following of like-minded people you’d built up online over time - there was no doubt your qualifications definitely gave your word some weight in the tight-knit community. Honestly, you considered your research work simply a way to fund your true passion. Every day when you had the free time, you took your camera out with you, out into the beautiful arctic land. There was so much to look out for. What would you find? You were giddy. If you found something truly incredible, your channel could blow up, and you could do Youtube full time. Today your mission was just to get some footage of the sea for a voiceover section you had planned.

... There was never a small amount of side-eyeing from people you knew, when they found out what you were passionate about. You weren’t sure what was worse; the ones who rolled their eyes and made stupid comments, or the ones who nodded along but looked at you like you were a particularly imaginative child. At least the more aggressive ones were honest about how they really felt. 

Sirens, in a way, felt like they proved that you were right to keep wondering what else was out there. They were incredible creatures, not even fractionally understood, dangerous and magical - they perfectly straddled the line between science and fantasy and there was so much of them that couldn’t be explained by those who (so frequently) brushed you off. How did their songs lure people? How do their bodies consist of such strange combinations of beings? How do they effortlessly sink hunting boats? Why did so many cultures have matching stories of them that perfectly apply to real life? In your world, honestly, the existence of sirens meant that a lot of other cryptids didn’t seem like too much of a stretch.

You had dedicated your life to researching sirens. By studying them, you could follow a path that was suitably scientific enough to shut up the assholes who didn’t take you seriously... but also gave you the time and resources to pursue your real passion.

You had to admit, you took pleasure in people discovering you were a scientist and a strong believer in certain cryptids. The visual erroring on their faces was wonderfully karmic to observe.

There was plenty of time to spare on the arctic research station. Experiments were frequent but didn’t take literally all day. You were left with ample opportunity to do whatever you pleased. Like, for instance... go out and film for your Youtube.

Aside from wanting to take pictures and film some B-roll, you just generally enjoyed being able to be outside. It was all well and good in the spring and summer, but when autumn and winter rolled around you’d be lucky to be able to see out of the windows. There was nothing as endless as the darkness of an arctic winter; the screaming winds, the days as pitch black as the nights, the many weeks cooped up in one place because the outside of the facility was literally one of the most hostile environments on Earth. It was good to stretch the legs - soak up as much serotonin as possible before the winter months came.

After a decent amount of time walking, immersed in your thoughts, you found yourself able to see the flat expanse of the sea poking just over the snow-topped hills. You were finally approaching the shore. Even from where you stood, you could see the massive ‘islands’ of ice floating silently away in the far distance. It was a truly magnificent place to be.

You rifled through your pockets for your hearing protection as you came close enough to the water to smell it, eventually having to pull off a glove for the dexterity. Even just a few metres from the sea you had to be aware of sirensong. Sirensong was always something of a risk but it was an even stronger risk while you were somewhere as remote as the arctic.

... But just before you got your protection into your ears, you heard something. It sounded like scrabbling, a weirdly desperate scratching. You stopped walking, turning cluelessly and searching for the source of the noise.

A few yards to your left, a patch of snow was wriggling.

No. It wasn’t snow. You blinked in surprise; it was an arctic hare, a surprisingly large animal, lean and white and with beady little black eyes. The animals this far north were always so much bigger than you expected. When it saw you notice it, it scrabbled and flailed in a way that only a frightened animal could, clearly desperately trying to run away. 

Something was stopping it. Upon closer inspection, from where you stood, you could see it had one back leg trapped in a small crack in the ice.

... Huh. You moved nearer, putting your hearing protection back into your pocket. The hare flailed again, wildly kicking its front legs, it reminded you of an injured bird trying to fly. Then it totally stilled; as if it could hide from you after all that movement.

“... I really shouldn’t help you,” you said, dejectedly, to the terrified animal, watching its little whiskers twitch, long ears pinned back against its skull as it tried to act indistinguishable from the ground. “Survival of the fittest, and all.”

The hare’s beautiful eyes stared up at you. You could see its little chest going up and down, heart beating wildly under its soft white fur.

...

You scanned the horizon. There was no one around for a long while. Sure, your GPS tracker told your coworkers where you were at all times in case of emergency. But until they thought there was an emergency you absolutely weren’t being followed anytime soon.

...

You pulled your bag off your shoulders, kneeling down and tugging your ice pick out of its strap holder. 

“No one will know, right?” you told the hare. It was just one hare. Even though leaving it was the logical thing to do, you couldn’t genuinely bring yourself to abandon this animal to die slowly and painfully while lodged in the ground. Besides, it was just one hare, wasn’t it? And it wasn’t like it had been caught by a predator, or something. It must’ve got its foot caught by accident; this was simply a terrible stroke of bad luck. If you freed it, it could go on to be eaten by a fox or wolf. Better that than to just die and freeze solid.

Using your ice pick, you carefully went behind the completely still creature. You were impressed by its dedication to stay totally still even when you were close enough to potentially reach out and stroke its fur. You had to be careful it didn’t spin around and bite you - you gently chipped away at the ice, extremely cautious not to catch its tiny bony leg. The entire time you dug, the hare was as still as the ice itself, unable to shake its instinctive need to stay small.

It really didn’t take long at all. A few careful draws of the sharp end of your axe against the compacted ice... and suddenly, like a gunshot going off, the animal sprinted away from you. Its powerful legs sent up a spray of snow, some of which went straight into your eyes - by the time you staggered to your feet, hurriedly wiped your face, sputtered and looked back up again, the hare was completely out of sight.

... Well. That was definitely a story to tell. You sighed, grabbing your bag and hoisting it back over your shoulder. At least -

- splashing?

Your head snapped toward the sea, in the direction of the sound. Against the total silence of the icy glassy sea, the splashing was loud, loud enough for you to hear it several metres away from the beach. It sounded frantic, almost aggressive. What the hell? What was going on today? You pushed your hearing protection onto your head, and half-ran-half-jogged toward the shoreline. The bare rock, grass and drifts of stubborn snow sloped away into loose pebbles that crunched and slid underfoot, mirrorlike water lapping slowly at the tide line only a few metres away. Lumps of ice, mini-glaciers of their own, floated silently and ominously by. This was water that would easily kill you if you fell in.

You scanned the shoreline, searching visually for the source of the noise you’d heard only moments ago - and soon you caught movement in the corner of your eye, just around a ‘corner’ caused by a rocky outcropping that jutted up a little higher than the rest of the landscape. Behind the outcropping, you could see large ripples spreading out, fast and random like something was fighting just behind where you could see. It was easy to pick up, considering the rest of the shoreline was so millpond still. 

Immediately, you jumped into action, running across the pebbled beach and scrambling up and onto the rock face. You weren’t even sure what you were expecting to see. Was it a person in distress?

... Except you could instantly tell it wasn’t a person, when the hidden section of the beach came into view, and you immediately saw a massive sleek outline that was easily twice as big as a person. It was for sure some kind of animal. But it took you a few crucial seconds of mind-whirring confusion to figure out what it was.

... Oh my stars. You ducked slightly, as if that would help.

It was a skeleton orca siren. A huge one. Partially beached, right there on the shore.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. All the breath left your chest at once. An skeleton orca siren, right before your eyes, bigger than you ever could’ve imagined, arching white markings and strong bones unmarred by any scars that could show a loss. Its sockets were sharpened with frustration - its body was against the shore at an angle, you could tell from how its tail was still able to cause those waves that the sea probably deepened extremely suddenly. It was thrashing, clawed hands digging into the ground, the force of its thrashing sending up showers of both stone and sea. 

Your breaths were controlled. The closest you had ever gotten to seeing a siren before was spotting their distant tiny shapes breaching near your boat, or the blurry low-quality images from underwater cameras. You’d never seen one in person so close you could touch it.

Clearly, you weren’t all that sneaky. Its rounded skeletal face whipped around, and razor-like white eyelights in pitch dark sockets landed on you.

Both of you were the rabbit this time. You froze, all your hair standing on end, nerves prickling. The siren froze too, waves stopping, it glared your way. At least... you felt like it was glaring. It was impossible to tell, its skeletal features were devoid of any of the usual emotional tells you relied upon. Whatever it was thinking, it was definitely staring, claws curling into the ground. Just its arms, twice the thickness of yours, could almost definitely snap your body in half.

Man. Chills spread across your whole body. Good fucking thing you put your hearing protection in, huh? 

You took a slow moment to take it all in. From the shape of the dorsal fin, you could tell it was male; male orca had a tall, almost triangular fin, while females had a much more sloped and curved appendage. Those sharp white eyelights cut into you, he was taking in you just as you took in him, clearly analysing every part of you. There was something so terrifying about his gaze - the eyes of a predator.

He watched you. He seemed... alert. Very very alert. 

...

Your heart was thundering in your ears, the only sound you could hear in your hearing protection. You unglamorously pulled yourself over the rock outcropping, scrabbling down it, and - against all advice you’d read before - approached.

He was beached. You had to at least see if you could help, right? It was one thing to have an inner battle about leaving a hare to die, it was another when the potential victim was a creature just as intelligent and sentient and aware as a person. He was laid at an angle, but still laid, the highest point of his back coming up to about your ribs. He had lost the advantage of movement. You nearly tripped over yourself as you moved closer, nervous feet skidding in the loose rocks.

... As you approached, he seemed to get... calmer? His eyesockets lost their sharpness, his eyelights grew in size. It was the opposite of what you anticipated. He wasn’t any less intimidating, though, no less scary. Your eyes kept darting to his teeth.

“How the hell did you manage to do this?” you asked, though you weren’t expecting a response, unable to hear even your own voice through the protection. “Where’s the rest of your pod, you dumbass?”

Was he smiling at you? Surely not. You dropped your bag to the floor, a few feet from him, digging through it until you pulled out your thick waterproof overclothing. Some other items tumbled out as you removed the gear but you paid them no mind. The waterproof outfit was like a boilersuit, it could be put on over the top of your other items and zipped to create a (theoretically) waterproof layer. Normally, it was a pain in the ass to get on, but you felt that you were on a time crunch and had somehow manifested almost superhuman speed.

You zipped up the suit, now protected in case you got wet. The closer you moved to him, the more you wished you had time to stop and fully admire him. The water on his bones and skin made him almost appear like he was shimmering. 

“... Ok,” you said, despite not being able to hear your own words, “easy big guy. Don’t bite. I’m just trying to help. I’ll get you back in the sea, and then I’ll go back to the land, and we can go on our way.”

He didn’t say anything. Because of course he didn’t, he was a siren, why did that thought even cross your mind? You blinked and shook your head, as if dispelling the thoughts physically. Of course he couldn’t talk. Something about his face felt so intelligent, somewhere deep down you had seemingly decided he could understand every word you said. And even if he did speak, it wasn’t like that’d be of any use to you. 

Something about him was eerily calm, even as you moved around him, coming close enough to his side to be within touching distance. Surely, a stranded creature like him would be thrashing and fighting when you came nearer, just like the hare? Surely he’d be making angry, earsplitting sounds that you’d be able to feel in your chest? The wind was picking up, tussling your hair. The siren stayed perfectly calm. 

“... I’m... I’m gonna need to touch you. Ok?”

...

... You reached out, and traced his skin with the tips of your fingers, extremely gently. It was cold. You immediately pulled back, turning and watching his face.

You expected something. Anything. A jump, a twitch, a lurch. Maybe even an attempt to fight you off. You expected him to swing around; hell, you expected him to even look at you. Any kind of a measurement of his reaction to you. Your legs were itching to leap back and flee.

But there was... nothing. No response from him at all. 

You came in again, this time putting your palm against his back, just beside his fin. It felt like electricity was running up your arm.

Nothing. Like he didn’t even care you were there. He was looking over his shoulder at you with a bizarrely soft look. Like he wanted you there. You felt very, very strange. This wasn’t at all what you were thinking would happen.

It felt like such a naive thing to even consider, but maybe... maybe he knew you were trying to help? 

Well, you didn’t have time to ponder the implications or reasons. You knew he was alright with physical contact. Now, you needed to figure out a way to get him back into the water.

You started by trying to pull - it only made sense, right? It kept you away from his front half, where the damage could be done. You looped your hands around the strong muscular base of his fin, using it like an anchor, digging your feet into the stones and throwing your whole weight backward. There was an extremely faint rocking of his body, literally about as much movement as someone trying to pull a car and only succeeding in making it bounce. Unperturbed, you tried again, pulling as hard as you could -

- the loose stones slid out from beneath your shoes. It kicked up the smell of wet seaweed and salt; if you hadn’t had your hands on his fin, your legs would’ve gone out from under you.

“Fuck,” you said breathlessly.

Did the siren laugh? Your head whipped around, he was looking ahead again. You felt like you saw his body move. 

... It must’ve been some other kind of vocalisation. You stood and turned around, trying again, this time pushing with your hands braced against the same spot. You pushed as hard as you could, nearly forgetting to breathe out, feeling your shoulders and wrists starting to twinge in pain. 

Once again, before you could make any meaningful progress, the force of your body made the slippery stones dislodge. You stumbled, all but falling flat onto his back, regaining yourself last minute and turning and looking over your shoulder at the siren’s head. 

“You just gonna sit there and stare at me?” you asked, breathless and only half joking.

He was looking back. You really really got the feeling he was smiling at you. 

You tried to push again, since it felt more solid than pulling. Yet everything you tried, the stones dislodged. The ground itself was fighting you. Frustrated, you dug your boot into the stones, trying to dig down and see if there was sand underneath, but there was just more and more loose wet rocks. Like the beach was making fun of you.

... Wait.

You thought back to the hare. Chipping at the ice around its leg.

You let go of him, scurrying back to your bag, then returning just as quickly with your pick in hand. The siren cast you a questioning glance, but still did absolutely nothing to stop your nonsense. Quickly, you dropped to your knees by his side, holding the pick by the head and jamming the wooden handle into the pebbles around where his tail met the floor. They came loose, of course.

You dug fast, using big scooping motions to pull the rocks out further each time. When you found a particularly large and difficult stone you flipped the pick and used the sharp edge to hoist it out of the ground. Seawater would occasionally slip into the gap you’d made, as the tide made the most minute waves you’d ever seen.

Excitedly, you ran around the siren, to dig on the opposite side. You didn’t notice how you ran perfectly within range of his arms, yet you dropped to his other side unharmed.

Your knees hurt. You were certain they’d be bruised. But you kept digging, and digging. You weren’t really doing anything more complex than making a ramp underneath him - but you were excited and flushed nonetheless, tired muscles full of hopeful vigour.

Suddenly, his tail splashed, you felt his whole body moving like an earthquake. You jumped away as far as you could, this time successfully falling flat on your ass - just like that, the siren drew away from you, moving backward into the water as he regained his grip and pushed himself. You were shocked by the speed and agility with which his huge body turned... and how he almost instantly disappeared, under the waves.

Holy shit, you thought, heaving, finally letting go of the pick as you stared out into the rapidly calming waters. It was like he’d never even been there. I actually... I actually did it. I just unbeached a siren. I...

Speaking of waves. Exhaustion, like a sudden tsunami, washed over you. Your shoulders sagged and your knees screamed in pain, you lifted your hands up to your face to see you had great crescents of red irritated skin on your palms. You were probably going to get blisters. 

... The cold started to finally twinge at your fingers. You managed to draw yourself up to your feet, but you flopped right back down to your knees once you made it to your bag. 

You opened it up, looking for your gloves, a lovely warm feeling filling your chest.

Amongst the dry kit, you saw your camera bag.

...

Wait. Your eyes widened.

... You forgot to take a picture. 

Welp - that was the lovely feeling gone. Immediately, you let out a frustrated shout, falling onto your back and putting your hands over your face. You forgot to take a picture. What a fucking moron! You’d just been closer than almost anyone ever to a massive orca siren, and you hadn’t even thought to get your camera out. He’d literally been a sitting duck, you could’ve photographed every side of him, every scar and mark, stars you could’ve filmed a segment for your channel. But the idea hadn’t even crossed your mind, you’d been so determined to save him. 

You’d probably never get another situation like this in your whole life. The universe threw the greatest possible chance at you. And you blew it.

... You dragged your hands down your face, staring up at the mottled sky. It wasn’t yet sunset, but you could tell the sun was beginning to inch toward it. If you wanted to film you’d have to do it right now.

...

... You couldn’t tell anyone back at the station about this. You folded your arm over your eyes. They wouldn’t believe you; they discover your ‘conspiratorial’ beliefs, tease you about it, you leave in a huff and then you conveniently come back a few hours later with an elaborate story about how you unbeached an adult orca siren? Yet strangely, you have absolutely no proof of the matter, despite having a camera on your person the whole time? You weren’t even sure if your followers would believe it. Sure, they’d believe you encountered a siren. But unlike what the rest of the world wanted to think, they absolutely weren’t stupid - they’d be hard pressed to believe you RESCUED the animal and didn’t think to record.

Eventually, you sat up. You were really and truly gutted. But there was no point fretting; not when you had daylight to use.

Might as well just get some of that B-roll.

///---///

Looking at the comments was always nice. When you weren’t busy, and couldn’t get outside, your second favourite thing to do was scroll through the comments on your videos. Of course you always got the occasional idiots who called you nuts, but those were few and far between, most were people being sweet or recounting their own experiences that you always read with complete rapture. 

You imagined some might find it hard to believe that being tucked up in your tiny warm station room was your second favourite activity. Walking around in the wind and cold was much more fun. But that, of course, didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy curling up on your desk chair with a blanket and a mug of tea while reading people’s encouraging responses to your passion projects.

You’d only posted your most recent video, the one about your siren encounter, about an hour ago. You scrolled, delighting in the serotonin that came with having an active comment section.

... Eventually, you came across a longer one that caught your eye. You paused sipping your tea to read it.

@bluesaphii1996

I grew up somewhere where we constantly see sirens in our waters. I absolutely believe you saw a siren, because I’m like 99% certain I can see a siren in the sea behind you at 14:51. Look just to the left of your shoulder, about 2/3s of the way between the beach line and the horizon. Its head pops up for a second before it rolls in the water and dives again. Either that or it's a VERY weird seal. But I’ve seen enough sirens to recognise their behaviour. That siren is 100% watching you when your back is turned. Be safe!!

...

You had to read the comment three times over. 

Huh? What? 

Immediately, sitting up and setting your mug aside, you clicked back over to your video and skipped to the timestamp in question. In that part of the video, you had set up your tripod, and you were talking to the camera with the sea behind you. You stared hard at the screen.

... You weren’t really used to looking at the ocean. You were pretty certain that someone who grew up by the sea would be a lot better at seeing strange movements in the water than you were. 

But sure enough, just like the commenter had said, you could just about make out a shape in the water. It broke the surface, then disappeared down again.

You had literally put your hands against that siren. You’d know it anywhere. That was definitely him; watching you from the water, many minutes after you’d rescued him and he could’ve swam far away. 

...

You sat back in your chair. You weren’t entirely sure how you were supposed to feel about that.

... Probably not excitement. 

You just couldn’t help it. A massive grin was spreading across your face. You were absolutely, utterly delighted.

Despite everything, you did get him on camera!

[livelaughlovesubs]

Make me your god, I can give you everything~

Wuwa boys + hierophilia!! Plot: they worship dom!gn!reader as their god

Warning: hierophilia, blowjob (implied), hair pulling, clothes sniffing (implied), dacryphilia

Nini!rant: I hope I included all of them? Also I’ll not write for yuanwu cuz I have absolutely no clue what his character is like, and lingyang bc he looks and acts childish. Anyway, I’m not up to date with the game, so the character’s personalities might be a bit off :(

Aalto

- He’d be the puppy kind, a very smart himbo (?)

- a loyal follower of yours, believes you are a being above since you are so graceful and divine

- you could do no wrong, and he’d believe your every word, he’s bound to your voice

- obeys everything like a good servant, even though he’d be a bit cheeky just for the sake of it

- he likes doing stuff that involves personal stuff of yours, like doing the laundry, cleaning your chambers

- should you trust him with your stuff? Well he definitely won’t steal it but maybe sometime else?

- “want me to do this? Oh, lord…! Well, anything for my deity~”

- could be a little demanding at times, begging and asking for a reward if he did something well (or thinks he did)

- “god, please give me some of your blessings?”

- overall a fun good boy

Chalcharo

- he is loyal, like really loyal, and faithful

- so loyal that it gets annoying at times, always wanting the best for you

- would have a hunch of overprotectiveness too, thinking he did well taking care of the dirty work for you

- in other words instead of waiting for a command, doing things by his own initiative

- he likes staying by your side and protecting you, if there’s not much to do he’d stare at you, thinking he’s sneaky when he isn’t

- wouldn’t voice it but wants you to praise him and show him your full attention afterwards

- tell him he’s a good boy and your most trusted follower and he’d be seeing the gates of paradise

- if he didn’t actually help he wouldn’t know and still expect that, so it’s up to you whether to punish him or not

- if you allowed him to, he’d love to lay his head on your lap or straddle you (he’d never admit)

- “I worship you, my lord, the dearest, please let me be useful to you.”

Jiyan

- pretty similar to chalcharo? BUT more shy, he blushes so sweetly whenever you compliment him, or touch him

- he’d flinch all surprised and embarrassed too

- a veeeery good boy, sometimes does things by himself but mostly waits for your order

- since he’s so cute, he’s very fun to tease, leading to him being red faced all the time

- but he doesn’t mind, he liked the feeling to being loved by you, a divine presence, to shower in your attention (who doesn’t?)

- headcanon that he’d enjoy taking care of the flowers around the house/ church/ wherever this is taking place

- you think he looks very cute a tad messy and sweaty after tending to the garden

- you once stroked his hair while whispering something about wanting a drink, so he suddenly got up to get you one

- but bc you were still holding his hair you accidentally yanked on it

- it felt so good he moaned, “ah-ahhnnggg~” now he has dirty fantasies about it almost every night

Mortefi

- take jiyans embarrassment and multiply it by three, that’s how he feels when he’s showing his devotion to you

- not because he thinks the act itself is humiliating, but that he’s not doing enough

- nevertheless doesn’t want to trouble you, since that’d be beyond him, so he always brushes it off

- he’s content with reading the holy books and scrolls in your presence, and knowing you gift him with the occasional glances

- sometimes he gets so engulfed in reading you really just want to tease fuck him from behind

- if you did do it… he’s so honoured..! And so, so lucky! But he wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes for a while

- wants to do so much more but again, wouldn’t tell, you’ll need to reach out to him

- it’s your judgement whether or not he deserved your care, he will try to gain it, but not expect it

- would deny wanting anything physical at first, but melt the moment you touch him, even if it’s through gloves

- “f-forgive me lord, for being greedy.”

Rover

- sweetest and most diligent follower ever

- way more bold and direct than the others, would seek you out when he wants your attention

- and that’s like, always, so expect him to be clingy

- mostly quiet, just gently appreciating you caressing him in any way

- he liked putting his head on your lap the most, second only to more intimate stuff

- a little like a lap dog? His duty is to entertain you, if they are all members of some church for example he’d be a rookie

- anyone would be jealous that a newcomer gets to spend so much time with you…! And he’s so smug about it too

- smiles a lot! Really warms you up! Makes you want to make him cry as well-

- seeing that soft and tender face of his twisted into a writhing one as he cries out, “m-more!! Don’t s-stop.. my lord” must be pretty great

Scar

- so bold it’s unreal, he’d barge into your room whenever which would be seen as disrespectful but he’d also get on his knees immediately and pray to you

- beg you for your affection, he’s soooo needy with his god

- also definitely tries to seduce you, and if he was doing that with anyone else he would have been kicked out

- you seemed to find it fun so that’s why he kept his position

- many think you are too lenient with him, and too benevolent considering how cheeky he is

- demanding attention, skipping chores to wag his tail around you, touching you all comfortably as if you allowed him so

- it’s like he’s trying to get laid by his deity

- the only one who’d be daring enough to be sarcastic with you, and bratty

- just fuck him stupid maybe then he’d learn how to behave

- “ah, hnNghh~ l-lord, so rough..! GentleEEeeeKKK!!”

Geshu lin

- actually the only one who’s somewhat on equal standing with you? Or rather, he acts normal with you in comparison to the others

- converses with you, plays traditional games, many would agree that he seems a bit like your right hand man

- but to you? You see him as just as desperate as the others

- there’s no way to hide those eyes full of worship and yearning, and admiration

- gets so jealous when you spend too much time with the others, he’s the worst one, and it shows in his actions

- cuz then he’d be more demanding, louder too

- wouldn’t expect you to touch him or anything, and thinks it’s too disrespectful to touch you without asking, so he’d be shameless enough to straight up ask

- even if it’s some lewd places, places that are otherwise forbidden to these loyal pups of yours

- he still has his needs after all, whenever he first sees you he’d get on his knees and give you his greetings

- “good morning my lord, may I use my mouth to express my love and adoration?”

[thee-horny-thicky]

This might be a weird request. But I was looking for a Muzan or douma x reader. However whenever they get intimate- the female never moans. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy it she just isn’t very vocal which annoys and gives them a complex. The fact they can’t even get a human girl to moan annoys and frustrates them. She’s shy, little insecure (chubbier side) so never moans. Also doesn’t get off on general just touching etc. it excites her but doesn’t get her soaked.

Congratulations, Anon. You've been selected for 'Drafts Thicky Should Finish and Post Program!' I chose to do Douma for one because that's what past me chose to do. Anyway, enjoy!

Much didn’t hurt Douma’s pride. But you, a little human maid, succeeded easily. You were supposed to be a distraction, a way to get his dick wet. Then, when he was done with you, he’d turn you into a meal. You had a cute face and ample curves that’d keep him well-fed. At least, that was the plan, until you rejected him.

“I’m honored,” you’d said, a blush consuming your plump cheeks.

He remembered grinning smugly, thinking he had you in his trap. Then, you’d continued speaking, wiping his smile away.

“But I must decline your offer."

With that, you’d bowed and scurried away, leaving a shocked Douma in your wake.

Your rejection had lit a fire under Douma, spurring him to chase you until he finally got you in his bed. Somewhere along the way, he’d grown attached to you, the game of cat and mouse being played throwing a wrench in his plans to fuck and eat you. Through hours of stalking and harassing, he’d gotten to know you, and your gentle, bashful demeanor reminded him of Kotoha, when he’d first stumbled across her. Maybe that’s why, after he just finished fucking you, he had no interest in consuming your flesh. Or perhaps, it was because his mission felt incomplete. He’d bedded you, yes, but you barely made a peep. Your lip stayed firmly between your teeth, and when he managed to coax a sound out of you, it was only a few whimpers.

Worst of all, Douma didn’t think you came.

So, there he lay, stewing in frustration and humiliation, tangled in the sheets, his nude body pressed against yours. He had half the mind to snap your neck right there, for all the effort you were making him put in. But if he did, he’d have no chance to redeem himself. So, instead, he voiced what was on his mind.

“Was I not good?” he blurted, the question sounding absurd coming from his lips.

He was Upper Moon #2, irrefutably handsome, powerful, intelligent, and had a legion of loyal followers. He’d given many pleasure before you and would continue to give pleasure to many after you. Douma was more than good enough, he was amazing, and yet you had him questioning himself.

One day, you’d pay for that.

You looked at him, face flushed, lips swollen from his kisses, and eyes glossy. You looked thoroughly ravished, except you hadn’t fucking come.

“It felt good,” you said with a small smile, meant to be reassuring, but doing nothing for him. “I-I just don’t…”

You trailed off, then shook your head, looking away as your cheeks grew hotter. “Never mind. It’s silly. I…I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Tell me,” he ordered, feeling borderline desperate.

You sighed, then refocused on him. “I…I just don’t have intense orgasms. Really, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

He stared at you, not fully understanding. Never had he been with a woman who didn’t have a noticeable orgasm. Douma analyzed everything he’d done to you, which was rather tame compared to past encounters. He limited it to fingers and cock, too consumed with want to do anything else.

Oh.

Oh.

At that moment, he had a revelation, suddenly feeling like a dumbass. Penetration alone wasn’t enough for many women.

His gaze remained locked on yours, and the longer he stared, the more embarrassed your expression became. “Just forget I said anything,” you said pleadingly.

Absolutely not.

Instead of obliging, he sat up fully and crawled over your prone form. First, he kissed your neck, relishing in your soft gasp. He smiled against your skin. Already, you were proving his theory correct.

“Silly me, not savoring you properly,” he murmured as he kissed down your body, stopping at your breasts.

You squirmed, trying to escape his touch, but he held you in place

“Y-you don’t have to do this,” you panted, before whimpering when his tongue swirled around your pebbled nipples.

As he sucked and nibbled, he could feel your heartbeat quickening under his palm, smell your arousal, sense the blood pumping through your veins. The results he was getting just couldn’t be denied.

“But I want to,” he said, before switching to the other breast and giving it the same attention.

You moaned, back arching, hands tangling in his hair. Any protests you had died a quick death.

When he had his fill of your full tits, he resumed his descent, kissing your soft belly, then your wide hips, and finally your thick thighs. The smell of your wet heat had his mouth watering. He parted your legs, taking a moment to admire the slickness that greeted him, before leaning down and swiping his tongue along your slit. When your taste hit his taste buds, he groaned. You tasted so sweet. He imagined your flesh and blood would be just as flavorful.

When he spread your lower lips to have full access, he blew air onto your dripping sex, chuckling at your whimper and pathetic shoves. Teasingly, his tongue darted to sample some of your juices. The rich, tangy taste made his restraint snap. Not even a second later, he speared his tongue inside your core, nearly drooling at just how delectable you were, at the sweet sounds you were finally making.

“Oh!” you gasped, gripping the sheets and arching into his mouth.

He ate you with gusto, his eagerness reflecting his hunger for you, literal and metaphorical. Each move he made resulted in his nose bumping your clit, stimulating you further. Your shyness started to disappear, and soon, you were shamelessly grinding against his face, chasing the pleasure you’d been deprived of earlier.

Silly Douma, thinking his cock was the best part of him. Clearly, it was his mouth. Not only was he an excellent conversationalist, but his tongue could bring pleasure to any woman, a fact you were reaffirming.

He kept a firm grip on your thighs and hips, keeping you still as he feasted. To send you hurling toward the edge, he rubbed his thumb over your clit in quick, firm circles. Moments later, your body was tensing, your pussy clenching around his tongue as you came.

“Don’t stop, please!” you cried as you experienced your peak, moaning at the top of your lungs.

He had no intention to. He licked and fingered you through your orgasm, drawing out your pleasure until you were a sweaty, panting mess. He was content staying between your legs the rest of the night, finally sampling your flavor and pleasing you. It was a win/win, and most importantly, saw the return of the ego that defined him.

TLTR: Reader only has intense orgasms from having her pussy ate

[slamminslamminmcgill]

please. please i need house to call me a faggot and a tranny while balls deep in me. please.

YES ANONS GLORY TO THE LAW OFFICES OF SLAMMIN SLAMMIN MCGILL 🫡⚖️

warning: transphobia, homophobia, slurs, degradation, humiliation, fucking medical ethics violations i guess, hair-pulling, drug abuse, mentions of pregnancy, misgendering kinda, not to doxx myself but im using my own medical info for ease of writing specifics

anatomical terms: vagina/pussy/cunt

“Okay, current medications. Let’s see what’cha got…”

Clinic duty was never enjoyable for House. It was really just a slew of NPC’s for him to verbally abuse until someone showed something interesting. A weird rash, an inexplicably high fever, or, in your case, a discrepancy in your suspected genital anatomy.

“This… says you have a birth control implant. So either someone fatfingered your actual prescription on the computer, or—“

“It’s… accurate.” You replied sheepishly, lifting your arm to highlight its location. “I actually do have one.”

The doctor looked perplexed, almost angrily so. Like you’d just spat in his face and dared him to call your bluff. He aggressively limped towards you and gripped your arm entirely too hard. With his other hand, his two fingers prodded around for the implant until he got it.

“Well!” He scoffed, rolling the stick underneath your skin, pressing on either edge to seesaw it within you. “Thank god you’re not reproducing. Imagine some poor preschooler having to bring your fruity little ass in for Mother’s Day. Kid would get turbo-bullied on the playground. Good on you for being responsible.”

He hobbled back over to the computer to return to your file, leaving you stunned, speechless, and sputtering. What is this guy’s fucking problem? What in the actual ever-loving fuck did he just say to you? And why was it... kinda hot, in all honesty?

“Ah, there it is. Testosterone cypionate. Jumped the gun on that one. If only I had scrolled down. Alphabetization makes fools of us all…” He continued reading the details of your dosage. “0.6 milliliters biweekly, self-administered intramuscular injections. Ooh, so you’re a masochist too.”

Your reaction was an unfortunate reflex, on par with if he’d tapped your knee with that dinky little hammer, only much more embarrassing. You had no chance of stopping the pathetic whine that escaped your vocal cords. “Mm~!” You gasped, then coughed, hoping to sufficiently cover the sound, and shouted, “What?! N-No, no I’m not!”

“Oh, please, you are not a good liar.” House tapped his cane on the exam table, right between your legs. Not touching you, not even close. He just wanted to imply that he could. “To administer a masculinizing dose of testosterone in patients assigned female at birth, they can either self-inject, or they can rub themselves with what’s essentially lotion. So why would you choose stabbing yourself in the leg unless you want to stab yourself in the leg? And why would you want to stab yourself in the leg? Because you’re a pain slut. Am I wrong?”

No. No, he was not. Well, that isn't why you chose injections, but you were a pain slut. Of course, you didn’t wanna admit that to him. That’d just make you even more pathetic. Oh well, it’s not like you needed to say anything anyway. The mortified look on your face was proof enough.

“So! What brings you in today? Bruised butt-cheeks from your Daddy taking you over his knee too hard?”

You rolled your eyes at his snarky comment, trying to stick up for yourself and what little shreds of dignity you had left. “My STD test results.”

“Oh, sure. Figures you would need to know that. Can’t have Typhoid Mary taking backshots at the circuit party. What types of sex are you having?”

Used to these questions every time you get tested, you rattled them off nonchalantly. “Vaginal, oral, and anal.”

“Not letting anything go to waste, huh? I like it. How many sexual partners do you have currently?”

Wait a minute. You just needed to hear the results. What’s this guy doing? “Uh… didn’t the nurse already ask me these questions?”

“I’m sure someone did. I just want to hear you answer them.”

You crossed your arms and stared straight through him, silently, baring an expression that sufficiently said cut the shit without the need for any verbal assistance.

Dr. House pouted. “You’re no fun.” He opened the folder he had came in with, what he was initially supposed to give you. He had just been dilly-dallying to kill time. “All negative. You’re clean. Well, in this one aspect, you’re clean. Morally, you’re about the furthest thing from it.” Again, he smacked his cane on the table, in between your legs, this time in rhythm. “Just. My. Type.”

You squirmed, trying to shimmy backwards away from his cane. You cast your eyes downward, obscuring the profuse blush on your face. He didn’t need to know that he was getting to you. Still, it was flattering. You cleared your throat. “Uh… Thank you? I guess?”

“You’re welcome. Oh, and one more thing. I saw that your chart lists recreational ketamine usage. Is that true?”

“Yeah, actually. Why do you ask? Are you gonna tell me to quit?”

“Ugh, please. I’m a doctor, not a narc. Here, watch.” Dr. House reached into his pocket and took out a jar of pills. He opened it, poured a ridiculous amount of pills into his palm, and dry swallowed them. “See? Now we’re both junkies! But, you do have a point. It’s my Hippocratic duty to look out for my patients’ well-being. The street supply of ketamine can be mixed with dangerous additives like fentanyl or crack, which would put you at risk for overdosing. You want a scrip for the good shit?”

Oh? On god? Ethics and potential felony charges be damned. The weirdly hot doctor wants to hook you up with substances? Weapons grade ketamine? You’d be an idiot to pass it up. “Oh! Sure, thank you!”

“It does come with a pretty hefty co-pay though.”

“Oh…” Your face dropped. “How much?”

“Bend over.”

—

“Ahhh, modern medicine is amazing, isn’t it?”

Dr. House sighed in pleasure as he rutted into you from behind. Your legs were cramping, held apart in an awkward position. Your arms were cold against the metal slab of the table, and so was your face, buried within them to cover your shame and soundproof your moans. Apparently, that “copay" he mentioned was just a euphemism. Some dumb excuse to get you to trade pussy for premium drugs. And you were dumb enough to do it. Just his lucky day. Keep your face down, keep your mouth shut, and just let him use you. The high will be well worth it.

"Hey, faggot," He spat, and yanked you up out of the darkness by your hair. Your eyes stung, shocked by the fluorescent clinic lighting. "I'm talking to you. Are you always this rude to everyone who fucks you?"

"S-Sor—Sorry! I'm sor—fuck! Fuck!"

"Shut the fuck up, whore," House clamped his hand over your mouth, holding you even tighter against him. You couldn't move, you couldn't speak. Your only function was getting him off. "If we get caught, you don't get your ket. Now, mmm, fuck yeah, tell me... Isn't modern medicine amazing?"

Without the ability to verbally agree, you nodded.

"Do you know why I'm saying it's amazing?"

You shook your head.

He chuckled devilishly before growling in your ear,

"Because I can blow my load in a tight little tranny boy's cunt without worrying about knocking him up."

[lvrrgirlll]

Tolerate It (series)

Synopsis: Life as Patrick Zweig’s controversially young girlfriend should have been a dream, but it was anything but. He was a broken man. You were a girl who knew all too well. Who’s to say whether you’ve got it wrong now…

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Paring: Patrick Zweig x reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: smut, oral sex fem!receiving, p in v, bit of possessiveness, implied that reader is female, age gap relationship, angst, references to cheating, mentions of sending nudes

Notes: Thank you all so much for the love on the last part!!! Trust I have a vision for this story long term, I promise…we just gotta let it cook! As always, enjoy! :)

Previous part

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Part 2: Bloom and Grow

2019:

Since the whirlwind night you spent with Patrick, the two of you had become somewhat inseparable. He spent the rest of his time in New Rochelle staying in your apartment when he wasn’t playing. He broke it off with all the others he had been seeing casually at your request to try to see where this went. He wasn’t opposed. He didn’t have many better options anyways.

He continued with tour for a bit, still broke, but with some support now from you. It helped that you liked to spoil him. Not that you were in much of a place to, but you didn’t mind helping him out financially here and there. You understood it was hard on tour and he needed to make ends meet in between matches. He felt like such a failure, though. A washed up, 32-year-old tennis player dating an 18-year-old college student…a 32-year-old man paying for shit with money from his 18-year-old girlfriend. He was grateful for you; so sweet and good to him, but it didn’t change the fact that he was embarrassed.

“Class earlier was stupid, I mean, a lot of it is just a waste of my time really. They’re teaching me shit I already know…” you complained to Patrick on the phone. He murmured half-hearted ‘damn’s and ‘sorry’s in response, but you could hear his exhaustion through the phone. “Pat, you okay? You sound tired…we can talk later if you want.”

“No, no. Don’t worry, baby. Just had some bad matches today, that’s all. Doesn’t usually happen to me…” he chuckled sarcastically “you could say my ego’s a little bruised.” A frown crossed your face, but, of course, he couldn’t see your expression through the phone.

“I’m sorry about that…you work so hard. I’m sure tomorrow’ll be better,” you attempted to reassure him, hoping it’d at least make him feel like someone was in his corner. “Did I mention I’m out of school next week. It’s our fall break. I could come visit you on tour?” He was quiet for a moment before replying.

“You didn’t mention that actually…that’d be nice. I won’t be far, actually. The match is in the city…I could stay with you and commute?” He seemed to perk up at the idea of seeing each other in person again. After all, phone sex could only go so far.

“I’d love that,” you replied simply. It’d be nice to be with him again. You’d been missing him more than you’d let on.

Your relationship was an interesting one. The dynamic was odd. He clearly held more authority, being 32 after all, but you were the one with a more stable lifestyle. He also didn’t have anyone to tell about your relationship, nor did he really see a need to. On the flip side, you were so excited about dating such a man, but you didn’t want to tell anyone for fear of judgment at the age difference between the two of you and for fear that, him being a very minorly famous tennis player, you could garner him some sort of bad reputation he didn’t want. Of course, Patrick knew better, crucially aware of the fact that his fame in the tennis world had long faded. But he found it cute how you saw so much in him. Maybe he could do with seeing more of that in himself.

2029:

“Mrs. Zweig! A comment please, how do you feel about your husband’s retirement after such a long career?”

Cameras flashed between a somewhat uncomfortable silence as you thought over your answer, considering the conversation you and Patrick had had about this interview hours before.

“I’m very proud of him. He’s been playing a long time and has gotten to a point of success that we both feel accomplished in. I think now it’s time to focus more on living life and being normal people.” You spoke in reply. It was a bit off the cuff, but was close enough to what you had rehearsed.

“Mr. Zweig! You made your way back to a grand slam just a few months ago, how can you justify retiring when you’re on such a career high?”

A certain look flashed across Patrick’s eyes. None of them would catch it, but you did. ‘He doesn’t really want to retire,’ you thought.

“It’s uh- well…to be honest, I’m getting old,” he chuckled a bit, trying to seem informal “and I’d like to be able to spend more time on my family.” All the words were there, but his heart wasn’t exactly in it. He was a tennis player, after all, not an actor.

You knew he didn’t want any of this. Was doing it because it was this or your marriage would fall apart. And he couldn’t take that after everything you’d both been through.

2019:

Months had passed, and you and Patrick were surprisingly still going strong. He didn’t call as often, and neither did you, busy with finals, but you texted enough and you knew he missed you. He told you so. It was your two’s recent fixation…he’d say he missed you, you’d ask how much, he’d say “so much” with a frowny emoji, and then you’d send him a picture of your tits. He also tended to reply about 10 minutes after that with a brief “thanks.”

When he did call, it was a lot of the same. Tons of ‘I miss you’s and ‘wish I were there’s, which you found sweet. Maybe you were a bit foolish, but you were 18 after all.

He visited in December to celebrate the holidays before you went home for your real break. The visit was nice. In not seeing him for some time, you realized just how much you had missed him too.

“I’ll have to start asking you for pictures…” you mentioned half jokingly to him.

“Yeah baby? You miss me that much?” He asked cockily, looking at you with a shit eating grin. You both made out for a bit, pulling away occasionally to talk more about your respective lives or remark how much you’ve been longing to be together again, when suddenly Patrick’s phone buzzed.

It didn’t concern you, really. Phone’s buzz all the time. It was his reaction when he glanced at it that concerned you. It buzzed again…and again…and again. The fact that he wasn’t checking it after the first glance had you more worked up.

“Are you gonna check on that…?” You asked, worry seeping through your voice.

“It’s nothing- just my coach. Don’t worry.” He answered smoothly, running his fingers through your hair. This excuse, however, was more concerning than anything. You knew he didn’t have a coach…he couldn’t afford one. He must’ve let the fact that you knew that slip his mind in his time away.

You chose to ignore it and pretend to believe him, smiling then and kissing him again. “Missed this so much…” he whispered in between kisses. His hands found themselves tugging at the hem of your shirt as he broke the kiss, looking into your eyes with that same darkness you saw that first night. You nodded, a silent agreement, at which he pulled your shirt above your head, marveling at you. You reach back to take off your bra, smiling up at him, half because you genuinely had missed this, and half so as not to let on that you were extremely skeptical of what those messages were. “Missed these too,” he remarks as you are finally fully topless now.

He takes off his clothes in record time, reminded of how irresistible you were, and in need of release now. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t happy to see such desperation from him. It sort of quelled your racing mind. You reminded yourself that at the end of the day, he was yours, and you were his. You were broken out of your thoughts at the feeling of his lips trailing down your neck. “I need you baby…” he mumbled against your soft skin. ‘That’s good to know,’ you thought to yourself. You let out a sigh, more at your own worries than his words, but you couldn’t deny you were enjoying this regardless. The two of you make your way to your bed, where you first found yourselves months ago, and waste no time.

He trails kisses down your neck to your chest, down your stomach, and finally to your thighs. He looks up at you like a man starved, eyebrows furrowing as he silently begs permission to touch you. He knew he didn’t need to…but that was just how he was. You thought it was gentlemanly; yet another reason you were probably overthinking the messages. You nodded yet again, not in the mood for words for a number of reasons, and he was eager to oblige. Bunching your skirt around your waist, not even bothering to take it off, he pulls your panties to the side, observing your dripping cunt. “She’s so wet for me…you did miss me, huh?” It felt more like he was talking to your pussy than you…but you didn’t mind. He runs a finger through your folds, teasing your needy hole. He leans in, placing gentle kisses around your thighs, but not where you need him most.

“Patrick, please…” you practically moaned, looking down at him hopelessly. You weren’t exactly sure if you were asking him to touch you or to stick by you, but it didn’t matter in the moment. You just knew you needed him. In every sense of it. He looked up at you with a devilish smirk before diving in, his nose brushing against your sensitive clit as his tongue lapped at you. You moaned at the sudden surge of pleasure you felt. This was what you needed. He slurped away, eventually adding one, then another one of his fingers to help finish the job. You felt your high coming quickly, and suddenly something came over you. You weren’t usually like this, but your thoughts had taken over, bleeding into the pleasure you felt. “Pat…,” you asked in between breathless moans.

“Mhmm,” he hummed in response, looking at up you while tonguing your clit. The buzz of his hum was hard to ignore, but you somehow kept your focus.

“I’m yours, right?” You looked at him again with a hopeless expression painted across your features.

“Mhmm,” he hummed again, smirking into your pussy.

You gasped, then replied through your moans. “S- say -fuck- say you’re mine. P- please.” He looked up at you, stopping his work suddenly. His eyes were lidded, as if he was drunk off of you. He offered you a lazy smile, then crawled up from your thighs to prop himself up directly on top of you.

“Baby,” he cooed tenderly, leaning down as if doing a push up to kiss you sweetly, “of course I’m yours. I’m all yours, doll.” He kissed you again, the stubble of his beard scratching you a bit, but in the best way. From this new position, he lined himself up at your entrance, looking down at you. “Y’ready for me?”

“I’m all yours, Patrick…” you whispered in response. That was enough for him, then slamming his hips into you at a rigorous pace. Pleasure like this was a lot to handle, you weren’t used to him, since he’d been gone so long, but this was exactly what you had been craving. His gaze didn’t waver from you, as he thrust in and out, maintaining eye contact as you fell apart beneath him, reaching your high as that invisible coil in your stomach snapped. “Oh- fuck, I’m yours Patrick…all yours- fuck.”

His release came not long after yours, pulling out and pumping himself onto your stomach with a smooth grin gracing his face. He collapsed beside you for a moment, catching his breath before getting up to go get a washcloth. “Here you go baby, lemme clean you up,” he murmured, wiping the warm, damp washcloth across your stomach and thighs. “I’m gonna jump in the shower real quick…wanna join?” He smirked at you, eyes hopeful, but you shook your head. You were tired anyways. And an unknown answer to a question was still lingering in your mind…

“All right beautiful, I’ll be out soon,” he said, kissing your forehead before heading to the bathroom.

You waited ti you heard the water running to reach over to the nightstand, checking his phone. You weren’t surprised, unfortunately, but from what you discovered, you were very hurt.

“Miss you all the way from Savannah. When are you coming back to me babe?”

There were pictures underneath that message, but you couldn’t bear to look. To think that after all of that, he could’ve been seeing who knows how many people on tour…it broke you a bit. You wanted to scream or cry or throw something, but you didn’t. Hearing the water turn off, you knew Patrick would be out any minute. He always took such quick showers. You closed his phone quickly, putting it back on the bedside table and rolling over as if nothing had happened. You intended to continue to act that way as long as you could…so he was sleeping around on tour…maybe you had just gotten it wrong? Maybe you weren’t as exclusive as you had thought?

[causenessus]

love notes

part 0.7. THERE'S LIFE IN THESE WALLS

“and when you talked to me, all i heard was words i couldn’t say a thing, i only made it worse and i know it’s hard when you feel this way in love with my best friend but i can’t say a thing”

from dræm girl by no vacation, left in the nishinari art district, osaka

the first time he’d come into the darkroom with her, she had been nervous. it was still the beginning of their first year in college and the first time they had talked since high school graduation. yet despite how long it had been since she’d last seen him, everything she’d felt for him in high school came rushing back the moment she recognized him wandering around the photography department.

she’d accidentally frozen the moment she saw him. no matter how hard she willed her feet to move, she couldn't seem to move and her panic only increased when he saw her. his face lit up slightly and he approached her and she only stood there like an idiot, clutching onto her bag strap for some kind of emotional support.

“hey, i was looking for you,” he’d said. his voice was enough to make her mind go blank, and his actual words only made her feel like she had short-circuited.

“oh– really? why?” internally, she pointed out every single flaw of her response; how quickly she’d answered, how stupid her words were, and how her voice was so high he probably found it annoying.

“yeah,” he nodded with a small smile, “i heard from akaashi you were going to the darkroom today? i’ve been trying to get him to take me with him because i wanna learn about the process but he’s been busy and he suggested asking you if you’d let me watch.” it’d been a semi-truth, although she didn’t know that. akaashi would have taken him if he'd asked him, but he hadn't. he was interested in how photo processing worked, but only because of her. he wanted to learn about the process from her and he wanted to learn about what her interests were. in short, he was finally doing what he’d avoided doing throughout all of high school; get to know her.

“oh. yes. sure, that’d be fine,” she tried to formulate a lax response but on the inside, she was the complete opposite. the idea of him watching her made her want to curl up in a ball and disappear, but she tried to reason with herself that she knew what she was doing. she’d been doing this for years; she had plenty of practice and knowledge. if there was one thing she excelled at, it was anything about cameras and photos.

‘but that’ll just make it even more embarrassing if i mess up in front of him,’ she’d immediately countered herself and wanted to hit herself. but instead she tried to push down her anxieties and act calm. there was no reason for her to be anxious, and if she didn’t think about messing up, she’d reduce her chances of anything going wrong.

despite her best efforts to make small talk on their way to the dark room, she'd given up when she realized he was better at coming up with questions to fill the awkward silence. “what do you take photos of?” he’d asked after her last failed attempt to start a conversation.

she'd taken a moment to think before answering, “honestly? everything. i take pictures of whatever interests me. i do a lot of portraits for other people and i’ve been trying to get into engagement photography because it makes good money, but it’s definitely not my favorite. street photography is really cool because you can capture so many raw emotions. you never actually know what your picture will look like until you go back to examine it, because no one else knows you're even preserving the moment, you know?” he only nodded silently which made her face warm. “sorry, i rambled without thinking.”

“no, it’s okay. i asked you because i wanted to know,” he responded with a smile. “i was just curious. i heard you were offered a position as a sports photographer and it’s what you seemed to be doing all throughout high school so i was surprised you didn’t take it. but i’m guessing it wasn’t your thing? street photography sounds really cool, too. i actually do street art with atsumu sometimes, you know.”

“really? i didn’t know that!” the enthusiasm in her voice made his smile grow. he found it cute, he thought, how her nervousness had gradually given away into excitement as she talked about her passions. it was a far cry from how stiff they’d been during their first three years of knowing each other, and he hoped that she continued to grow more comfortable with him. “that’s actually what i’ll be processing in the darkroom today. i think it’s really cool how people can leave their marks on a city. to be honest, i haven't found a lot of graffiti in osaka yet but i like the idea of how even if we move away from here, or especially when we’re long gone, there will still be parts of us left behind through what’s written on these walls. there’s the couples who write about their love, or leave their lockets on bridges to immortalize their love even past the amount of time they'll be together and in the same way caveman left drawings on the wall, or egyptians wrote in hieroglyphics, graffiti is like a modern version of that. there’s so many emotions behind it,” she explained as they neared a door. on the front of it was a sign that read DARKROOM printed in large, capital letters.

“that’s a cool way of looking at it. i don’t think i ever made that connection but i’m gonna be thinking about that the next time we throw something up,” he replied as she unlocked the door, letting him walk in first. “and atsumu and i have seen a lot of art while we’ve been out. you just have to look in the right places. i can take you to some of my favorite spots sometime, if you want.”

“that would be nice,” she says, thankful that it goes dark as she shuts the door behind them, hiding the tint in her cheeks. “i’d really like that– actually. and uh, this is just a sort of buffer room because we want as little light as possible getting into the darkroom. i know it’s small,” she immediately clarifies, seeing how he turns, looking at the cramped space they’re standing in, the only light being a dim red emitting from a corner.

“oh, i get it. when you open the outside door, all the light comes in here but when you go into the actual darkroom, there’s no light entering,” he notes, seeming to find her in the dark. there’s no way he can really see her, and yet she can feel the weight of his gaze.

“exactly. and i usually leave anything i don’t need on this counter. we’re technically not allowed to have phones in the darkroom, but most people keep it on them anyway. and it's kind of becoming an outdated rule because now you can print using your phone but i still leave mine here. just out of habit,” she explains, slinging off her bag and placing everything on the counter. “i promise it’s brighter in the actual darkroom. it’s all red lighting so it feels a little satanic but you get used to it,” she smiles when she hears his huff of laughter as she grabs her roll of film from her bag. “there’s overhead lights, too, but we never know who else might be working in there or if anyone left anything out, so we leave them off unless there’s an emergency. are you ready?”

she sees him shift in the dark. “actually, before we go in, honestly i don’t know anything about the process. do you think it’d be easier to explain it to me beforehand so that i don’t slow you down while you work?”

“oh, sure,” she says, looking at the roll of film in her hand, “i don’t think you’d slow me down, but that’s probably a good idea. just so you have a brief introduction to everything.”

she keeps talking, and he thinks that he can get used to this. it had taken him a talk from osamu at graduation after three years of walking on eggshells around each other to finally open his eyes to the realization that nothing would happen between them if they never talked. he'd worried the entire summer about getting the opportunity to talk to her and how it would actually play out but today had gone better than he could have ever imagined. he’s heard her talk more than he ever has before, and best of all, she’s talking directly to him. it’s just them; no one distracting his attention away from her and no one to tease him for the way he’s looking at her right now, admiring the way her eyes shine even in the dark with life and passion about what she’s talking about, watching the fingers that are pulling at the edges of the roll she’s holding with skilled, steady hands he’s seen so often holding a camera, hiding her face behind it.

“are you even listening?” she’s looking up at him, a forgiving, teasing smile on her red lips. it pulls him out of this thoughts and he finds himself distracted by them instead.

“yeah, totally,” he says, trying to focus on her eyes instead. “something about chemicals?”

she thinks of the moment fondly as she’s approaching the dark room by herself. she’s just split up from akaashi, who walked with her to return some equipment he borrowed. she approaches the door, taking in a deep breath. she loves working by herself in silence, but unsurprisingly, he’s always in her head and she sees him in everything. when she opens the door, she always remembers watching him walk in first, and the way he looked at her while she tried to explain the process of developing photos to him.

and she thinks about him everytime she puts down her bag, she thinks about the roll she took out and developed with him, both the negatives and processed versions of them still hanging on her wall. and when she puts down her phone, thinking about what he texted her this morning, she notices the white plastic bag on the opposite side of the counter.

her curiosity gets the better of her, seeing a small slip of paper in front of the neatly tied bag, and she steps over to read the note in the dim red light above it.

“you’re always holding that camera up to your pretty face. always looking at the world through the lens of a camera. why don’t you stop and appreciate the beauty of it for a second?” ♡ rin

prev. | m.list | next

bokuto came by y/n's apartment to force akaashi to take a break but while they were out for coffee konoha sent akaashi the "i'll vibe with you" meme and just completely broke him

akaashi is really going through it. double majors suck

suna has never used so many smiley faces in his life bc he didn’t know how else to express how texting y/n was making him feel <3

he was also late to practice because when y/n told him she'd be in the darkroom all day he went to buy food for y/n and then had to walk across campus to the arts building to leave it there for her (that's why he said "good to know" and then had to come up with an excuse for what he said <3)

and heads up y/n’s gonna really fight with calling him rin because she’s so worried he’s just trying to appease her so she has this whole kind of what if situation planned out of “if i call him ‘suna’ and he forgets ONE TIME to remind me to call him rin HE DOESN’T ACTUALLY WANT ME TO CALL HIM RIN AND HE HATES ME”

that will come up in like 9 chapters from now

guys i promise if ur not feeling these chapters THE PACE AND EVERYTHING IS ABOUT TO KICK IN BEAR W ME

also i thought i was doing well balancing written parts and full smau chapters but i realized all the written parts just came later in the story so forgive me pls

the way i see it, you can basically read this chapter’s song recc as the first one suna left on a wall for y/n <3 since this chapter has to do with a little bit about their first real interactions

this bullet point is specifically for @eggyrocks who has an amazing love notes playlist you should listen to!!! their amazing music taste is responsible for last chapter and today’s song reccs and ALSO the upcoming importance of title fight because they shared with me an amazing album (hyperview) AND I JUST NEED TO SAY EGGY it’s so amazing how your brain works bc the only title fight song you added to your playlist was trace me onto you AND THAT’S THE SPECIFIC TITLE FIGHT SONG THAT WILL COME UP LATER IN LOVE NOTES (i’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense i’m going to try and explain it again, but basically out of the entire album, trace me onto you is the only one i’m actually using in this smau and i just think it’s so cool that it’s the only one you added to your love notes playlist!!! and thank you for your playlist because although i already had a song planned out to go with each chapter, since you made your love notes playlist i’ve changed some of them out for your songs <333 and this song was especially important with it being the "first lyrics" suna left behind or whatever and i think dræm girl fits SO WELL)

taglist: @0moonii @iluvmang @bluebeanbee @wyrcan @oyasumeii @froyaoya @gyuijns @nbcvs @milkteade @guitarstringed-scars @makkir0ll @mylahrins @cherrypieyourface @vivian-555 @sharkerino @r0seandth0rns @staileykout @lunavixia @thvvluvr @elliott0o0 @wolffmaiden @rockleeisbaeeee @toges-cough-syrup @cnnmairoll @ryeyeyer @hibernatinghamster @localgaytrainwreck @lemonocity @bows4life @sereniteav @madiexuberant @eclecticeggknightpsychic @phoenix-eclipses @sonicsolos @httpakkeiji @brkfclub @snail-squasher @starry-magicshop @cr4yolaas @kitnootkat @zzzlevislothzzz @iluv-ace @iluvaquaphor @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @applepi25 @twiishaa @girlkissersco @sleepystrwbrryy @encrypta

[rainychaoloveshack]

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ 𝐔𝐩 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞. 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

staying up late with silver, watching a movie.

content. silver x gn!reader, reader is mentioned to be a night owl (staying up late often), tooth-rotting fluff, very light angst

☂︎ wc. 950 ☂︎ a/n. third post silver, then scourge! bing bam boom. PROBABLY VERY OOC! not proud of this one, i gotta study silver more :(

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!!

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

┊ ⋆ ┊   .   ┊   ┊

┊    ┊⋆     ┊   .

┊    ┊       ⋆˚              

✧. ┊         

⋆｡˚ 🌨 ˚｡⋆｡🌩˚☽˚｡⋆ 

☂︎

The exhaustion is hitting him, you can tell. The way his eyes are drooping, trying to focus on the movie in front of you two. You nudge him, making sure he doesn’t fall asleep yet; the movie’s just getting good.

“Huh?” Silver turns to you, tilting his head and blinking rapidly, trying to wake himself up for you. “No, I’m fine. Fine.” He mumbles, leaning back and rubbing his quills downward; a grooming motion you’ve seen before with other hedgehogs, mainly Shadow.

You ended up getting lucky today. Silver had opened a portal to this dimension to come and take a visit to Sonic and his friends, but afterwards, Silver decided to pay you a visit, right in your cozy abode. Lucky, lucky you.

… Ah. Maybe there's a sort of time dimension jet lag hitting him?

“Dimension jet-lag?” Silver giggles at your joke, right ear flicking in your direction at the sound of your laughter. “No, silly! I just don’t stay up as late as you. I wish I could,” He frowns, leaning against your shoulder. “You make it look cool. All… ‘night-owly’ every night.” Night-owly?

Both you and Silver end up cracking up like idiots at the absurdity of both your words, bodies trembling slightly with laughter as the movie tunes out between you two, all of your attention just focused on each other.

He’s not wrong. It’s so usual for you to stay up past midnight, and you almost don’t notice when you do it nowadays. It’s so ingrained in your daily schedule, even with your attempts to head to bed earlier. The sleep debt must be terrible.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay awake; I promise.” He reassures you, leaning against your shoulder, fidgeting with his gloves briefly as you watch him with interest. His statement isn’t very convincing, since he follows it with a small yawn, squeezing his eyes shut, and as soon as he opens them, he locks eyes with you sheepishly.

“Uh…” He chuckles a bit afterwards, his ear twitching in embarrassment. “Well, I’ll try.” He pauses, parting his lips to say something else, yet nothing comes out for a few moments.

“Sorry.” Silver murmurs, still fidgeting with his gloves as he looks down at his hands, and you tilt your head curiously. What? Before you can ask, he continues.

“For not visiting you so often. I-I really want to, don’t get me wrong!” He looks back up at you in a panic. “But…” Silver lets out a small, exasperated whine, his ears tilting down. “My world; it still needs me. And the others need me too.”

You frown, reaching cover to give Silver an affectionate scratch behind his ear in an attempt to lighten the mood quickly, causing it to flick towards you, followed by small bits of chuckling from him as his body relaxes. He says nothing else but leans towards your touch happily, brushing his shoulder against you as he snuggles his ear into your hand, enjoying the little scritches you’re giving him.

“Thanks.” Silver says softly as you retract your hand, locking eyes with you again. “Uh, you don’t mind if I stay the night, right?” He pauses, almost bashful as he asks, and you nod eagerly to his question.

Duh. It’s not like you would kick him out at this hour anyway. Why would you anyway?

“Maybe we could go see the chao tomorrow.” He mutters, resting his head against your shoulder. “Or fix up my garden. Ah, we could do that! Yeah,” A small smile spreads on his face. “That’d be really nice to do with you…”

You pull him in closer, pushing him by his hip, and in response he scoots on over to you, pressing against your leg. A stupid grin spreads on your face as you yank him into a tight cuddle. He gasps softly at the sudden action, followed by laughing briefly as he pats your back.

“Ah, come on, you could’ve just said so…” 

Without saying a word, you slowly lay down on the couch, stretching your legs for a moment as Silver lays down on top of you, trying his best not to hurt you as he lays his head onto your chest, relaxing his body once he realizes none of his quills have pricked you in any way.

Damn, he’s really, really warm. It feels good as hell…

“You have a nice heartbeat.” He says softly, his ear tilting to press against your chest more, following the rhythm of your heart. “[Name]... Gosh,” Silver chuckles, placing his hand on your shoulder as he snuggles closer. “I really like your heart…”

You both lay in silence together, the only noise coming from the long-forgotten movie playing in the back, along with the soft breathing from Silver. You run your hand gently over his quills, feeling every individual one, and the small tiny pricks from the tips of each.

You say his name, expecting him to respond, but he just keeps his head down and doesn’t respond in the slightest.

Silver?

… Silver?

Oh. He’s asleep. 

You click your tongue softly, looking down at his sleeping form on your body, feeling his soft, furry chest rise and fall against your stomach as you pet his quills slowly. Despite you telling him and everything, he just falls asleep so quickly?

… No matter. You crane your neck forward, pressing a soft kiss on the top of his head, and Silver seems to react favorably, his ear twitching at the sudden foreign sensation despite his slumber, his quiet breathing flowing against your chest.

Oh, right.

It looks like you’ll be finishing the movie alone tonight.

[dartlekey]

Up and down goes the small pink pill, bouncing across Eddie’s hand. He twists it between his fingers, bounces it across his knuckles - it glances off one of his many rings occasionally, but never drops, is always caught by a steady palm, and flicked back into rotation. Steve watches idly - the movement is mesmerizing, even more so because he’s a little high, relaxing on Eddie’s narrow bed as Eddie scribbles into a notebook. 

Whether the scribbles are song lyrics or campaign ideas Steve doesn’t know; he’s asked before, but Eddie wouldn’t tell. He’s been weirdly uptight all day, actually, more quiet than usual, but asked Steve to stay when he offered to fuck off if Eddie needed some space. (It’d make sense if Eddie needed space, really; they’ve been hanging out so much recently, but there’s something about each other’s company that makes both of them feel safe, and neither of them usually gets much of that, anymore.)

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Steve says, stubbing out the joint in Eddie’s bedside ashtray. “What kinda pill is that?”

Eddie doesn’t glance up, but Steve feels the weight of his attention shift as his fingers pinch the tablet to stillness, at least for the moment. “Estrogen,” he says, sounding contemplative. “The other kind of E.”

Steve frowns, because he’s a little faded, sure, but not high enough for Eddie to be this confusing. “Wait, isn’t that like, hormones? Thought you only sold drugs.”

“Yeah, this is just for me,” Eddie says, then shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

Steve sits up, runs a hand through his hair - the kids like to joke about him having a “Mom-Sense” like Peter Parker has a “Spidey-Sense” (whoever the fuck that is), and they’re not wrong; he can always tell when someone is struggling with themselves. “Yeah?”

Eddie does look up at him, then. Doesn’t exactly look nervous, more… tired, if anything. 

“I think I’m a girl.”

Steve blinks, considers this. Doesn’t consider doubting Eddie, because that’d be fucking stupid - Eddie likes to act impulsive, but someone who can plan eleven-hour campaigns and still have four super-geniuses howling with shock and betrayal at the end of it? Someone like that doesn’t speak without thought. “How come?”

Eddie huffs out a long breath, spins around in the wobbly desk chair. “Wheeler Junior was being a sore loser, said I’m just like his sister. I know he was trying to piss me off, but I can’t stop thinking about it. The thought makes me fucking giddy.”

Steve nods a few times, plucks at a loose thread on Eddie’s comforter. “Huh. Yeah, kind of makes sense, actually.”

Eddie squints at him. “It does?”

Steve shrugs, a little embarrassed, but the weed has loosened his tongue enough to admit, “You’re pretty.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his - her (?) mouth. ”Boys can be pretty.”

“Yeah, but you’re like, girl-pretty. Don’t laugh, it’s a thing! It’s like - like, I can see a guy and go yeah, he’s good looking, and that’s it and I go about my day, but with girls there’s like this sense of awe? It’s like, wow, she’s pretty, can I get her to smile? I kinda wanna know what her hair smells like.”

Eddie stares at him incredulously, and Steve gives an annoyed huff, only just manages to restrain himself from overexplaining how last week he actually thought he was bi for a hot second, before he realized that apart from Eddie, guys still seem about as sexually alluring as housetrained rats.

Well, not apart from Eddie, now, because it turns out Eddie is a girl. Problem solved.

“So what do I call you now?”

“Hmm?”

“Like…” Steve waves his hand vaguely. “Do you want a new name? Or something?”

Eddie starts bouncing the pill across her fingers again. “No, Eddie is fine. It’s… neutral, I like that. But use girl words, I guess?”

Steve frowns. Maybe he is too high for this. “Like… babe? Sweetheart?”

Eddie barely manages to tamp down on a laugh. “Like she and her, dude. Like Eddie’s driving the other girls to Nancy’s because Robin doesn’t have a car and Max and El are underage. Five minutes as a girl and you already want to climb me like a tree, is that it?”

Steve blushes, lobs Eddie’s dog-eared copy of the Silmarillion at her, which she dodges expertly, cackling in that wild way that she has. Still Eddie. Still pretty. “Shut up, it’s not like that,” Steve grumbles, and Eddie grins, tugging her hair in front of her mouth. “Keep telling yourself that, big boy.”

[cas-backwards-tie]

Golden

Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Reader

Summary: Johnny reminisces on his summer fling with you. Horizons broaden and world shaken, he comes to a realization.

Words: 600+

Warnings: None!

Mentions of: past one night stands, sexual intimacy,

A/N: I forgot about this for a sec, but @bumblebeesfromvenus reminded me, and I was bound to write this drabble. also, line divider credit to @enchanthings . I repeat- I repeat- I’m not really a Swiftie or anything BUT 🙈😳👀😭 I keep seeing this snippet of the song on my fyp on tiktok and I just can’t help but think about how:

Johnny is definitely no chump when it comes to lacking experience in the bedroom… yet when it comes to love? That’s another story altogether. Sure, he may not have been caught fraternizing, and he’d never put his career in jeopardy for anything long term. That’s why it’s so unexpected when you suddenly pop into his life after a much needed leave.

You’re a civilian, but much like him you too travel for work. Yet your vacations just so happened to line up with one another. While his might have been more of an obligated leave of absence for recovery, yours was to adventure and see the world.

That’s what brought you to his homeland of Scotland. Though more specifically, the Highlands. What’d started out as a coincidental bump into each other turned into playful flirting before he fully knew what he’d gotten himself roped into by offering to show you around all the more niche points of interest that might’ve not been in the airport’s pamphlets or kept off the popular blogs online.

After a series of ambitious expeditions; a haphazard picnic made up of the snacks you’d brought atop a hill after hiking all day, braving the chilly ocean at the Isle of Skye, a kayaking adventure gone wrong, and many more stories… it never left him. Even after months of traveling back and forth to see one another in different parts of the world, that trip… you… never left his mind.

Truth be told, it didn’t take him until now to realize what he felt, in fact, he’d swear part of him knew all along. And while, yes, it may have been the prodding and poking his teammates did that sparked the realization of what his feelings truly were, it didn’t take away from the fact that you’d changed his world.

John always thought that love would be simple. It was something that you’d know once you felt it, once you’d experienced it. Like a snap of fingers, that was love. Once you were in it, it was done, unchanging, a stagnant blissful feeling that’d never fade, and yet… that wasn’t true at all.

You’d shown him that.

Love was… the exact opposite. It wasn’t some sudden onset of passion, a fleeting whirlwind of fiery fervor that eventually fizzled out. Love is… ever changing.

It’s the mischievous little moments the two of you share together that leave you laughing like children when you decide to sneak into his childhood bedroom in the middle of the night, or the sparkle in your eye when you’ve accomplished something you’d only ever dreamed of.

The easiness and comfortability that’d lead him to falsely believe he’s known you his entire life, the way you’d slipped right into his grasp and he never wanted, even for a second, to let you go. Maybe it was the vulnerability that seemed so effortless between the both of you, one saying something that lead the other to let a personal fact or story slip past their lips, with no embarrassment or regret to follow.

Perhaps it’s the way you linger in his mind, images of your time spent together consuming him what feels like every waking moment. From the friendly interactions to the naughtier memories slipping toward the forefront of his mind as he reminisces on the way you’d stared at him, eyes full of adoration as he’d held you close, soft skin just beneath his fingertips as he inhaled the scent of your mixed sweat and the sweetly shampoo you use. He never wanted to lose the visceral remembrance of those intimate moments.

Yes, he knows now that he was so wrong to think that love was nothing more than simply black or white. Every single day he’d spent with you only proved that fact as he fell more and more in love, the emotions expanding and shifting, adapting with every breath of the wind. Oh, how wrong he was, he thinks back on it, smiling to himself like an idiot as the only thing he knows is that he needs to tell you how he feels. Solidify that fact and take a chance, make a move to tie you down… tie you to him. That is, if you’ll let him, or it’s not too late. He could care less if his brothers see him like this, it’d be worth it for you. It always will.

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @jynzandtonic , @safarigirlsp , @moonlightsolo , @penelopepine

[miniwheat77]

Mine. (Ghost x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, jealous!ghost, slight love triangle, (lemme know if I missed any)

This isn’t very long but I wasn’t exactly sure what else to add. You can find the ask for this here.

(Summary): There’s a love triangle between reader, Ghost, and Gaz.

It all started when Captain Price introduced you as a new member that’d be joining the task force.

It went well for a few months. The missions went pretty smoothly, you got along with everyone really well. You didn’t see the longing stares from either men, but they welcomed you onto the base with open arms. Treated you like you’d been around forever and watching over you just as they did each other. It was nice having people looking out for you.

It started slow, you noticed on missions Gaz would get really close to you. He flirted with you and made it a point to always sit next to you, but when nobody else was around, Ghost did the same. You overheard a lot of people on base talking about it. Talking about how both Gaz and Ghost liked you, and who you would choose. It drove Ghost crazy. Because Gaz understood your jokes and social media references and he didn’t, he had a feeling you’d choose Gaz over him. You’d been on base for a couple months now and neither of them had made any sort of move, you didn’t want to choose between the two of them. It was a weird position that you were in.

They tried so hard to get closer to you than the other. Sending glares to each other when they passed by. They were acting like teenage boys and it was killing you. You hate it. They had a rivalry together. Trying to do better than the other on missions or training. Ghost was jealous. Extremely jealous. He didn’t usually show his feelings like this, but there was just something about you. He knew for sure if you chose Gaz, he’d never put himself in this position again.

You pick up a water bottle from the cooler, walking toward your room to change when you overheard a conversation between Soap and Gaz. “We’re taking bets on who Y/N is going to choose, you in on it?” You hear Gaz laugh. “Course she’s going to choose me, you seen my charm?” He jokes. “How much are they betting? I’m in.” You roll your eyes. You emerge from the mess hall, Gaz and Soap straightening out as you pass by them. “Hi Soap. Hi Gaz.” You smile innocently. “Hey.” They say awkwardly with a wave.

You waited in the darkness for Soap, seeing when he’d approach Ghost. You wanted to hear what Ghost had to say, how much money he’d bet.

You spot Soap moving, following behind him. He walks up to Ghost and you move closer so that you can hear him. “Hey, we’re taking bets on who Y/N is going to choose. You gonna get in on yourself?” Soap laughs. Ghost crosses his arms, eyes boring into Soap. “What, is this high school? Don’t you think that’s disrespectful?” Ghost shakes his head. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Soap laughs. “Nah I’m not doing that, that’s cruel and will probably embarrass her.”

This is how you got your answer.

When Johnny walked away, Ghost made a beeline for your room. This wasn’t a move for you to want to pick him over Gaz. He didn’t want you to get embarrassed, especially if it’d make you leave the task force. Ghost didn’t want you to go. You reach your room before Ghost, quickly changing into your night clothes. You try to take a deep breath so that he doesn’t notice you’ve just come back. A quiet knock at your door has you scrambling up to open it. “Hey Ghost.” You smile. “Hey. Can I talk to you?” He asks. You open the door and allow him inside. “Is something wrong?” He sighs. “Johnny asked me to make a bet on who you’d choose. Me or Gaz. I just wanted to give you a heads up.” He breathes. “Thanks for letting me know, Ghost.” You smile. “Did you bet on me?” You ask, standing up from your bed and taking a step toward him. He takes a step back. “No. I wouldn’t do that to you.” You take another step and his back hits the wall behind him, startling him a little. You were acting weird.

“Is everything okay? You seem off.” He breathes. “Yeah. I just.. think it’s really nice of you to give me a heads up. You’re a real gentlemen you know?” You smile, resting a hand on his chest. “Uh.. yeah of course I just wouldn’t want you to get embarrassed or hurt.” He’s nervous for some reason, how the hell did you have this effect on him? “I heard Soap ask Gaz earlier to bet on me.” You giggle. “You did?” You nod your head. “Mhm. I heard him ask you too.” Ghost nods his head. “Well.. I guess I’m here for no reason than huh?” He laughs nervously. “No. Because I think you and I could bank off of this.” You smile. “Yeah? How so?”

“Go tell Johnny you wanna up the bet, bet on yourself.” You smile. Ghost rolls his eyes. “Oh Cmon. They want us to play their game. Why not show them how it’s played?” You smile. “But.. that would mean..” he swallows hard.

“That I’m choosing you? Yeah. That wasn’t even up for debate.” You smirk.

You grasp his vest, pulling him into you. Smashing your lips onto his. He freezes up for a second before deepening the kiss, he spins you around and pushes you up against the wall behind you.

This was Gaz’s downfall, being young and dumb when it comes to women. Ghost had an advantage. And that gave you the answer you need. You knew Ghost knew his way around a woman, sure maybe Gaz did too. But you had already made your choice. Ghost lifts you up by your thighs, hips pinning yours to the wall and a gasp leaves your lips. Muffled by his. He kisses you fervently, like it’ll be the last. He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He pants. “Go tell Johnny and come back.” You bite your lip. He nods his head. “Okay. Yeah.” He breathes. He sets you down and walks out the door quickly.

He’s back in just a few minutes, wasting no time to get his hands back onto you. Your skin is soft and warm and you’re so comfortable against him. In just a few minutes Ghost is between your legs. The only clothing remaining on him is just his mask, but it’s pulled up over his nose. His toned chest is covered in sweat. Moving with each deep breath he takes. He’s buried between your thighs, tongue drawing you into him. You’re trying your hardest to keep quiet. His face glistens in your arousal. The scratch from his stubble burns your thighs in the best possible way. “Oh fuck Simon-“ you gasp. He’s got a tight grip on your thighs, the way he manhandles you and moves you to where he wants you throws you for a curveball.

The significant age gap you have would’ve normally thrown you off. This was foreign and something you clearly should’ve thought about sooner. He took care of you.

Drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you. Wearing your body out.

When he’s inside of you, the tightness feels amazing. He’s massive, and fills you up perfectly. He takes your breath away with his size, ripping a moan from your throat when he takes his first thrust. Cock coated in your arousal, you watch intently as he slides out of you, thrusting back into you. Your eyes roll back as he starts a steady pace. Skilled thrusts as he holds you still. He’s not sloppy or too quick. He doesn’t keep sliding out of you, doesn’t make you uncomfortable. For once you don’t wish it was over as soon as it started. He’s making you feel good, pushing you to the edge of your high.

You’d never cum during sex before, the foreign build of an orgasm settles in your stomach and he’s staring down at you. He clearly knows what he’s doing.

The smirk on his lips tells you everything you need to know. Your first orgasm hits you quickly and he holds his hand over your mouth to quiet you, hips still hammering into yours, still steady. He’s not close just yet. “If it’s too much, just tell me.” He breathes. His hot breath on your face has you whimpering. He steadies himself, each of his hands on either side of your head. He’s smothering you, muscles flexing each time he thrusts into you. Your eyes roll back, moans being muffled by his lips on yours again. You can taste yourself on his lips. He’s got you approaching another high in no time.

How in the hell he could have your body reacting to him such ways?

When Simon finally finishes, you’re worn out. Legs are shaking, the muscles in your stomach are surely pulled. You’re sweaty, and worn out. “Relax, I’ll get you cleaned up.” He breathes. He finishes dressing himself, going to wet down a towel. The cool water feels amazing on your warm skin. By the time he’s nearly done, your eyes are heavy. He helps you settle in, creeping out of your room after he’s finished.

—

The following day, in the mess hall. Everyone is there except for your Captain. He didn’t need to hear any of this.

Simon is sitting at a table, everyone gathering around. “Alright, how are we going to do this? Ghost is in. You guys have to make a move on her to see who she chooses.” Soap announces. “She’s already made a choice.” Ghost leans back in his chair. “What?” Gaz mumbles. Ghost grabs the bottom of his mask, lifting it over his neck to reveal all of the love bites you’d left there the night before. “What? No way!” Gaz rolls his eyes. Soap gathers the money from the bet, nobody had bet on Ghost so all of the money went to him. You emerge from the doorway, walking over and sitting in Ghosts lap, holding a hand out. He sets half of the money in your open hand, smirk on your lips. “What the fuck is going on?” Gaz mumbles. “I overheard your little bet.” You smirk. “Heard you agree immediately, heard Simon disagree, try to defend me. So I put him up to it.” You stand up, face only a few inches from Gaz. “Nice guys finish inside.” You smirk, shoving passed him. “Come on Simon.” You mumble. Simon stands up, pushing his chair in. “What a guy.” Soap shakes his head.

Gaz rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

[pwblant]

03. can’t a guy get coffee?

seeing your text, you watch as he makes his way over the counter to order from you. “sooo what drinks do you recommend?” he says as his eyes wander over your face, analyzing it.

“people seem to order our matcha and coffee drinks a lot.” you say, half expecting him to do something that’d embarrass you.

“great, i’ll order both.” he says proudly.

“oh, did you come here with someone?” you ask.

“no. just wanted to help you earn money for my drycleaning. sorry for coming off as rude by the way.” he said as he let out a small laugh, exposing his gorgeous gummy smile. he kinda reminded you of a black cat for some reason.

“alright then, I’ll serve them at your table. it’s 18 total.” you say with a follow-up smile, touched by his sudden change in heart.

the two of you exchange smiles before he turns around to go sit back down at his table.

you bring over the tray filled with a flavorful and delicious aroma over to its designated table.

“hi ! here’s your order, enjoy.” you say, handing out his drinks.

“wait ! before you go back, take this one. do you like matcha? if not, i could take it and you can have the coffee.” he says.

“what?”

“take one.” he says persistently, both drinks already reached out just for you to grab.

“i can’t do that.” you say as you push his hands away from you.

“yes you can, i’m the one who paid for it.” he insisted.

“no.”

“pleaaseee? my hands are getting really cold.” he says while looking up at you with puppy eyes, about to sulk.

“what is wrong with this guy…” you thought to yourself.

“fine.” you give in and let out a sigh in defeat as you grab the cold cup of matcha, thanking him for it as you made your way back to the counter.

4pm is just around the corner and your shift had just ended. you should've listened to the weather forecast saying that the weather would be unpredictable today, it’s pouring outside - just your luck!

“shit, what do i do? i’m gonna get sick,” you say, disappointed at the situation you’re in at the moment.

just as you make up your mind to run through the rain, avoid the puddles, and cover your head as you do so considering the fact that your place is just nearby, a white umbrella suddenly towers over you. you look around to see who this umbrella belongs to, only to see that it’s.. him, again?

“oh—what are you doing here?” you question him.

“i was just about to leave too, take this.” he says, handing you his umbrella.

“and what about you?” you ask.

“i can manage.” he replies.

“no no, lets go together. where are you headed?” you offer.

“i’m going back. my manager’s the one picking me up today, so i don't really need it anyway.” he says.

“oh—well, thank you, i guess?” you say as you send a small smile at him.

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