#like this little guy practiced with ghosts

[femmenature]

nobody gets me, you do

Pairing: Ellie Williams x f! reader (ofc)

Summary: where your ex Ellie can't spend another day pretending she doesn't still love you.

Warnings: Inappropriate language.

-

you usually appreciated this kind of nights. Where you don't have to work and you can watch a series or put more effort into the food, and not just make a simple white rice. You used to appreciate it in Ellie's company. Now you prefer to keep your head busy, work, study, do some gardening even though you know perfectly well how horrible you are at it. And that your head will probably play tricks on you and remind you of how Els laughed for a week because a damn cactus dried up on you. A sigh escapes your thoughts. “See, this is what happens when you're distracted,” you say to yourself, leaning against the kitchen counter. But your relaxed posture didn't last long, as someone knocked on your door. Strange, knowing that you didn't order anything to eat and didn't invite your friends. You walked to the door and opened it with your eyebrows furrowed, you were going to open your mouth but it was her, and you just stood with your hand on the door frame and your heart in your mouth.

Ellie looked at me and blinked rapidly, as if checking that this was not a dream. Her heel rested on the floor, leaving the toe of her slipper raised nervously. “hey” she let out in a sigh, which she seemed to have been holding back for quite some time.

“hey…” my voice betrayed me and trembled as I said something as small as a greeting. Though I guess it only matters who you're saying it to, and having her in front of you isn't easy, more so when you've had no contact for the past five months.

“I know it's weird, knocking on your door knowing we're not together” she spoke fast on the last words, wanting to cover up the fact that you guys are apart, because it hurts her more than anything else in this world ”but I'd rather you see me as a freaking weirdo than keep this to myself any longer. Altough you know I'm weird, I mean, you know me better than anyone else and-” she stopped talking, knowing she was getting distracted.

“do you want to come in and we can talk inside?” even though you're scared to death and more uneasy than ever, you acted calm so she would be too. She nodded and you invited her in, closing the door behind her. “so…why are you here?” you don't act disinterested, not excited either, Even if you are. You disguise the fireworks in your stomach as you smell her perfume when she walked inside. As if your house is complete again.

“uhm, these five months” she licked her lips nervously as she looks away remembering the days she spent without you ”were the worst months in the world. And it's just pathetic to tell you knowing that you're the reason I had such a hard time. Or the absence of you. I was with a part of you, with your ghost that haunted me everywhere I went reminding me that it wasn't going to be the same without you, and the worst part is that even though it wasn't really you it was all I had left to not feel completely alone in the world. So somehow I didn't want it to go away” her eyes finally met mine, softening ”our pictures are still in my room, even our saved game from the last time we played Life is Strange together. I didn't touch it waiting for you to come back, in that stupid hope that you'd show up and we'd forget our stupid fight. But I guess our pride won us over once again.” she moves a little closer, slowly, as if she's afraid the floor beneath her will crumble ”and for the first time in my life I couldn't care less about my pride because I know you're on the other side of the scale. And the love I have for you compares to absolutely nothing I have or will ever be able to have.”

your eyes become crystal clear, you think this is not real, you imagined so much that this moment would come, you made so many scenarios with Ellie and that she will come back into your life, but not like this. She is practically showing you her heart like never before, in a desperate attempt to get back to being everything she loves and still loves. You were going to say something, but she cut you off, she had more to tell you, more to show you how much she misses you.

“So I'm here. I'm not going to lie to you and pretend that I don't expect you to answer me, that I'll be able to wait for you to think and answer me without falling apart from the anticipation of not being able to hold you in my arms again. I don't even know how I could endure these months without you” finally closes the immense distance and gently caresses your hand tenderly ”do you know how desperate it is that no one understands you, that the only one who knew how to calm you down was miles away from me in body and soul?”

her eyes are desperately searching for yours and her voice is begging you “the only person who could do that was you and it killed me to know that you didn't want to see me when all I wanted to do was kiss you as if the world would end after that. Nobody gets me, you do. Nobody can beat your eyes, your touch, your voice, your jokes, your love. I couldn't even look at another woman because I knew no one was worth it, no one is worth it. No one can look at me and know when I'm anxious, or how much I love space. They would see the stuffed dinosaur I have in my room as a simple stuffed animal, when you took the time to know which one is my favorite and buy it for my birthday and when I would give an explanation of that dinosaur and why I have that damn stuffed animal the only thing I will think about is that I lost you forever and and-"

you approached her and gave her a sudden kiss, knowing that if you let her talk anymore, anxiety would eat her up. The kiss is tender, desperate for time apart, but at the same time soft and romantic. Her hands brought your hips closer to hers while you caressed the back of her neck. After a few seconds you separated and rested your foreheads without taking your hands off where you had them

"I hope you never have to explain to anyone why you have a dinosaur in your room because I'm not going to lose you again" Ellie smiled and hugged you, hiding her face in your neck "I wasn't planning on doing it anyway. I was going to die without you then I wouldn't give myself the chance to have another girlfriend" you laughed caressing her hair "I missed you, Els" she kissed your neck tenderly without letting go "I missed you too baby"

-

I'M SORRY if it's not well written, I don't speak English and it's hard for me not to get lost!!! Enjoy <333

[kirkwallguy]

I agree so much with you that Solas is an active detriment to the Dragon age setting. I am replaying Origins, and my incredibly hot take is that Solas recycles a significant amount of Keeper Zathrian's character, in order to create a more "epic" scale narrative that imo is also much weaker and messier than the original Zathrian to the overall scope of the world and to player engagement.

They're both bald magic elves who have been alive for absurd lengths of time, and who are convinced of their own righteousness even when their actions cause or will cause great and unending harm to those around them. At least with Zathrian his "optimal" narrative path (whatever that may be to the player) isn't gated off behind playing a straight woman, my Tabris can butch out with Leliana all I want and still access all modes of narrative engagement with Zathrian, and the Dalish within the Zathrian quest are granted legitimacy and dignity in their beliefs.

I am not a fan of the reveal that the Dalish gods were functionally just powerful mages, it's so obviously a plot beat written by a certain type of atheist who don't see how anyone could have faith in a greater force, or have curiosity about that mode of moving through the world, which is made even sillier when the setting has dragons and ghosts and stuff. Its so similar to the type of story that takes greek/norse/egyptian gods and re-imagines them as regular guys, functionally wizards, in an urban fantasy setting, wanting the power and drama but shedding the belief systems that go along with the gods, and what those systems do and mean to people. There's so much awe and wonder and hope in the codex entries in the Origins Dalish camp - are these gods gone for good, can they ever return and can the Dalish ever go home either with or without their gods' presence? What do the gods mean to a people who have suffered so much and safeguard those pieces of divinity that remain in stories and song and crafts? What might these echoes of distant gods mean to the city elves, so far removed from what once was but still cherishing the traditions they do have? But no, the Dalish were fools for their tattoos and their beliefs, and all the history and remembrances Zathrian kept and passed on to his people was false. What an idiot. Who even remembers that guy?

Anyways, you don't have to post my anonymous tirade, I just am a huge fan of one (1) bald elf so deep in guilt and tragedy and the weight of history that he is either blind to the harm he may cause, or so secure in his pride and belief in his own righteousness that he chooses to close his eyes to that harm. And that elf is not Solas.

i always giggle when i get to zathrian because he's so obviously prototype solas.

and despite his situation, zathrian's goals feel mostly grounded, we see him amongst the clan and understand his dynamics with the people around him. it's kind of impossible to fully grasp solas' whole deal because it's so hypothetical, all these things happened offscreen to characters with incomprehensible power who may have just been spirits at the time anyway. who give a shit...

and i agree with the religion thing but i'd say i always read dai and dav's handling of religion more as being liberal christianism than overzealous atheism. i wrote this post about dai, and i think dav only made it more true:

there's so little exploration of religious practices in dalish culture, dai at least does a little bit with those few sidequests, but dalish clans in dav are something just distantly spoken about and never fully explained. and this is in a game ABOUT the dalish gods. how is bellara saying (over and over again) "our gods are back!!! D:" supposed to hit when we don't know what significance the gods actually have? 😑 they had something really interesting in origins and da2, but it just feels like any other contextless fantasy pantheon now

[amagialp]

HIIII i love your ficsss! could i please request something thats smut? like the reader and konig have maybe been in a sort of situationship and then one day the two of them are practicing sparring and then it turns lowkey smutty 😼😼😼?

you can pick how you make it and how smutty it is, once again i REALLY LOVE YOUR PAGE MWAH XXOXO ❤️

YAY first request <3 and also thank you so much i love you too pookie xx

!!WARNING SMUTTY FIC!! request open ;P

The sparring room was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of bodies hitting mats and the occasional grunt. You and König had agreed to train together, both needing the practice and let’s be honest the excuse to be close.

Your situationship with König had been a maddening push and pull. He’d linger too long in your space, his sharp blue eyes piercing through you, but he’d always stop just shy of something real. Yet his hands would ghost over your lower back when he passed, his massive frame pressing a little too close when you trained. The tension between you could snap steel, and today felt like the day it would finally break.

“You’re hesitating,” König muttered, towering over you with his hands up, ready to strike.

You rolled your eyes, already sweating from the exertion. “I’m testing your patience, big guy.”

His head tilted, the shadow of a smirk curling under his mask. “Testing it, are you?”

You didn’t have time to retort before he lunged. His size made him look slower than he was, but he was all speed and power, catching you off guard. You barely blocked his first swing before he swept your legs out from under you, pinning you beneath him.

You gasped, chest heaving against his. König’s weight pressed you firmly into the mat, his thighs straddling your hips. His hands bracketed your wrists, holding you effortlessly in place. The room was suddenly too hot, the air thick.

“Still testing?” he rumbled, his voice low and dark, vibrating right through you.

Your breath hitched, a wicked grin tugging at your lips despite the situation. “Maybe.”

His grip tightened just slightly, his fingers brushing against your pulse. His mask hung low, so close you could see his lips curl into something almost feral.

“I think,” he murmured, leaning closer, “you’ve been teasing me long enough.”

Your stomach clenched as heat pooled between your legs, the raw hunger in his voice making you squirm. “And what are you going to do about it?”

König didn’t answer. Instead, he released your wrists and slid a hand down to your hip, his touch searing even through the fabric of your workout gear. His other hand tugged the hem of your shirt up, exposing your stomach.

“You’ve been driving me insane,” he growled, his hand slipping beneath the waistband of your leggings.

His fingers were hot against your skin, trailing lower with deliberate, agonizing slowness. You could feel the sharp intake of his breath above you, the fabric of his mask brushing your temple as he hovered close.

“You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me,” König murmured, his voice like gravel, low and dangerous. His fingers brushed against the edge of your underwear, teasing, making you squirm. “The way you touch me when you think I won’t notice... Always testing, always pushing.”

A shiver ran down your spine as his hand dipped lower, fingertips grazing the slick heat between your thighs. You gasped, your hips bucking against his hand. The tension between you boiled over, spilling into the way he pressed his palm against you, his touch both possessive and insistent.

“Scheiße,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tight with restraint. “You’re already so wet for me. You like this, don’t you? Being pinned down, at my mercy.”

“Maybe,” you breathed, though your trembling body betrayed just how much you did.

“Maybe,” he repeated, his tone mocking as he pushed your leggings lower, baring you to him. “I’ll make you beg, Liebling. I want to hear you admit how badly you want this.”

His fingers slipped between your folds, spreading the wetness there as he teased your entrance. When his thumb circled your clit, a sharp cry escaped your lips, and he chuckled, low and dark.

“That’s it,” he murmured, applying just the right pressure as his fingers finally pushed inside you, curling perfectly to hit that spot that made your head spin. “So tight, so perfect. This is what you’ve been wanting, isn’t it?”

Your nails dug into his forearm, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as he worked you open, his pace steady but torturously slow. “König, please...”

“Please what?” he growled, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Use your words, Schatz. Tell me what you want.”

“I want... I want you,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

He let out a low, satisfied hum, his pace quickening as he thrust his fingers deeper, his thumb never letting up on your clit. The sounds he was pulling from you were obscene, echoing in the sparring room alongside the wet, rhythmic noise of his movements.

“You’re going to come for me,” König commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And when you do, I’ll take you right here, on this mat, so you’ll never forget who you belong to.”

The promise in his words, paired with the relentless pace of his fingers, sent you hurtling toward the edge. Your body tightened beneath him, every nerve alight as pleasure built and built until it consumed you, your climax ripping through you with a force that left you shaking.

König didn’t stop, his fingers working you through the waves of your orgasm until you were a trembling mess beneath him. When he finally pulled his hand away, his fingers glistened with your release, and he brought them to his mask, lifting it just enough to drag his tongue over them, his eyes locked on yours.

“Taste so sweet,” he muttered, his voice rough with hunger. “But I’m not finished with you yet...”

LMK IF YOU LIKED THIS!! my request are always open feel free to ask anything ;)

[buckdefencesquad]

Chat, do I bother carrying this on? Classic Ghost being an idiot. But I'm debating just binning it

Soap isn't handsome. He's not rugged. He's not chiselled (well, his abs are). He's pretty. It makes Ghost fucking hate him as soon as he meets him. Soap is the prettiest fucking thing he's ever seen. He wants to own him. He's so pretty it makes him want to grab, tear, destroy. No straight man should be that gorgeous. It’s a crime against humanity.

He nearly loses it after their first mission together, Soap standing inches away from him, looking up at him through dark lashes. Pretty blue eyes shining and a sweet flush on his face. Spreading down his face, neck, below his t-shirt. Ghost wants to grab him, rip his shirt off and find out if it goes any further. Instead of giving in to his instincts, he just turned around and walked away. Leaving Soap there, pouting and confused.

He tries to resist Soap's attempts at friendship. But he's so fucking pretty and persistent and perky. All the P's Ghost can think of. It's like basking in the sun, getting soap's attention. He decides not to waste it. For as long as Soap gives it to him, He will take and take and take.

Soap is the pretty boy of the 141. Gaz is handsome, but Soap. Something about him just sucks you in. The higher-ups love him. The recruits love him. Everybody wants Soap in some way. Whether it's his friendship or more.

And yet it's Ghost he chooses. Soap walks into the mess and has numerous offers of a place to sit. He waves them off, grinning and gorgeous. Gets his food and hesitates for a second before making his way over to Ghost's table tucked in the corner. Sits down opposite him with a sweet little blush. Doesn’t expect Ghost to make conversation, just chatters away. The first few weeks of this happening, Ghost had just stared, Johnny not caring every time his eyes flicked up and met Ghost's relentless stare (which was surprisingly often).

Then Ghost started grunting at the appropriate times, enjoying the way Soap's eyes lit up. And then, a week later, he’d started talking. Soap had been almost giddy when he’d asked him a question about something he’d just said.

Ghost, let it continue. Soap dropped into his office and his room. Quiet nights spent together, talking about shared awful childhoods. Quiet nights filled with Soaps, gentle laughter, and ghosts muted chuckles. Seeing Soap stretched out on his bed, shoes kicked off, clad in sweatpants and a soft shirt was a real test of his self-control. Watching Soap roll over onto his back, stretching and groaning, telling Ghost he was too tired and comfy to move, so he’d just sleep here. Ghost would grunt and make him leave, ignoring Soap's pout as he shut the door behind him.

The most infuriating thing about how pretty Soap was, he didn’t even realise it. It was lucky, really, that Soap didn’t know the power he could wield, especially over Ghost. He’d come trotting over to their table in the mess, all cheery because, yet again, he’d been given an extra dessert. He’d hold it up, grinning at Ghost triumphantly, and Ghost would ache with want. The ache would worsen when Soap never hesitated before sliding the dessert over to him with a cheeky wink.

Ghost had some leave coming up and was in his room, packing when Soap sauntered in, throwing himself on the bed dramatically. Ghost ignored Soap, still methodically packing. Soap was staring intensely at him, and Ghost enjoyed the impatience he could practically feel simmering off of him.

“Lt,” Soap called.

Ghost grunted, knowing that Soap would understand it was an invitation to keep speaking.

“What are your plans when you’re home?” Soap asked, leaning in closer, smiling. “You got a guy? A girl?”

Ghost froze. He’d never come out to Soap, not wanting to risk Soap being uncomfortable with the idea of Ghost wanting him. But Soap was asking, so it must mean he was alright with it. He could use this moment to come out and pretend to Soap that he had no interest in him, that he was safe.

“No girls for me. Ever. No long-term guy either, but there’s this same one I fuck whenever I’m back home. I’ll probably shoot him a text on my way home. It’s been a while; there’s no one here I’d fuck, so it’s been a long year.” Ghost told Soap with a harsh laugh at the end. Of course, Ghost had no intention of texting anyone, too obsessed with Soap to consider ever touching anybody else.

He watched Soap out of the corner of his eye as he spoke. The easy smile on his face slid off his face. His face became hard, with no hint of the softness that he usually directed at Ghost. When Ghost finished speaking, there was a prolonged silence.

Soap stood up from the bed and nodded. “Have a great time.” Was all he said, going to clap Ghost on the shoulder before stopping himself and just walking out, the door slamming behind him.

Ghost stood there perplexed. He had no clue why Soap was suddenly mad at him. He sighed and continued to pack. It couldn’t be because he was gay, right? When he was finally finished, he placed his duffle by the door, ready for when he left the next morning.

As Ghost approached the jeep that would take him home, he looked around for Soap. He was sure he’d come and say goodbye, but there was no sign of him. He ignored the disappointment that gnawed at him. He knew this would happen. Something would make him lose Soap.

[notdotspot]

Dp x Dc Bat Burger

Part. 1

Here Danny was, trying to have a relaxing vacation from his kingly duties in the human realm, but he has yet to see a moment of peace. Ever since he arrived in Gotham he has had this nagging feeling of being watched. Between getting mugged every day, trying to find a job, and finally getting a college education, he did not have time to deal with more problems in his life. It does not help that even though Danny Fenton has aged, it has been miserably slow, so he still looks like a teenager. Not much better than looking fourteen as Phantom but he will take his wins where he can get them.

He is too paranoid about his parents or the GIW finding him that he just can't relax. Luckily the Bat Burger is not too far and he can have a nice greasy meal in his favorite booth. He always liked how it reminded him of the Nasty Burger in Amity. It was his little connection to the life he left behind. He placed his usual order, when it was ready, grabbing the tray with polite thanks to the tired-looking worker. His day was looking up until he turned the corner to see his booth taken.

He could not help but stop and stare for a moment. He was so frustrated by his whole life since being forced to flee Amity Park and now he could not even have the simple joy of getting fast food in his favorite spot. Danny could practically feel his eye twitching in annoyance and he just wanted to scream.

Then one of the guys sitting at the table noticed him standing in the middle of the restaurant, making direct eye contact with Danny. Danny could have burst out laughing there because the guy looked like he had seen a ghost, not that the guy would even know he almost did. All he could think to do was flash him a smile then turn to walk away. He could go find a quiet rooftop with a good view to enjoy his meal instead. This dude would not be his first odd interaction in Gotham and definitely is not his last.

---------

this is on ao3 now

keeping it short so if someone wants to expand or add just tag me in it

[terminuslucis]

Can Lil Silver play any instruments? (If not, what would he like to learn to play?)

Yes, my little guy was taught music by the ghost of his mom. As an aside, his father is the one who taught him to paint. Dead people can't do much, but they made do.

The piano he practiced with was an old electronic one that has seen its fair share of damage over many moves. The violin was his mom's, but it was sold some time ago.

He got a little practice with other instruments in music classes at his various schools. Unfortunately, he wasn't at any one school long enough to get decent.

He's passively interested in wind instruments, but the piano is his favorite. If he was going to pick up music again, that's what he'd play.

[methoughtsphantom]

DP x DC

not me thinking about imaginary scenarios of ten year old Tim Drake in the ghost zone (pariah’s castle)

where Tim thinks it’s strangely soothing that despite being the only one whose steps connect to the ground, there’s not that eerie silence that befell drake manor

strange blob creatures chitter softly and nip at his hair and swooshes and wisps of wind betray the presence of an invisible ghost

which after following he realizes it’s almost like he’s trailing after the black dark shadow that is batman again

which gives him the idea that, maybe, just this one time, he can play the part of robin

that in mind Tim makes out a game of sneaking to the side of ghosts that look like they’re brooding and if they can spot him he loses

most just grunt in response (very in character) while others fuss over him and ask questions which Tim uses to infodump

he also politely asks the ghost that always asks him how he’s doing to instead say the word “report”

(the ghost looks at him weirdly but humors him and besides the answer would be the same anyways)

Tim also(!!)

gets on the case of why the walls lack tangibility when he is the one leaning on them (he doesn’t live down the time he wanted to look cool only to fall through the wall)

hyperfixates on how gravity works in the ghost zone because he couldn’t do a skateboard trick he has pulled off many many times and he’s salty about it

tries to figure out where they are getting human food from (cause it’s hot enough to be homemade but also there’s no kitchen —so how could it be) (also he wants coffee)

finds out the dude that often gives him a side eye when he finds that Tim knows how to do something (math homework), is next in line for the throne and yet doesn’t have a single “mingle and talk people up” bone in his body. (despite it his networking is a solid 7/10)

gets a ghost horse to adopt him what

discovers pretty quickly that there are rooms to which he can’t phase through (a.k.a. he’s not allowed entry) to which he begrudgingly backs off even though that stands in his way of doing a very thorough layout™ of the place (robin would)

sulks over the lack of extreme sports in the place

(Danny takes him to the Far Frozen where they go tire sliding in the snow and where tim learns how to use a skateboard skate and also that ghost ice cream is just as good as normal ice cream)

sulks again cuz he caught a common cold

also because there’s no sun or moon poor Timmy’s already screwed sleep schedule gets more messed up to the point no one knows when or where he will fall asleep

(ghosts find him in the most unhinged of places with a signature purple cloak draped over him every. single. time.)

overall, be a menace

see-> the time he threatened to build ghost weapons he’d somehow memorized the blueprints of cause Danny wouldn’t let him visit the radium girls factory but yes the renaissance period

see-> that time he went through the whole ghost energy and how to work with it book section in the library and half an hour later had a prototype of a star wars laser beam made

(note: bribing only works for hot chocolate, not for letting him keep cool-looking guns)

just tim having the time of his life

clockwork being no help at all (the ghost loves being a cryptid)

and danny trying not to get attached while he progressively gets more concerned over this chaos child he emotionally adopted as his little brother

(to fit canon cause i want it to this would just be until Danny finds the dimension little Timmy is from, then they can safely yeet the child back to the moment he first went missing)

anyways before anyone knows it’s been three months

[lightbluesleeper]

Knight and a reaper 🗡️🪦

[allexonspace]

Can you tell i really like demon characters?

[tavysboy]

continuing off this sketch here, decided to draw the little guy herself—

her name is violet, she loves naps and making tunes with xylophones <3

[raddest-laddest]

i wish i could enjoy things and be creative on my own at the same time

[oof-i-did-it-agaaiiin]

So much love for god and jesus. What about the holy ghost? Where my holy ghost girlies at? Truly the Kevin Jonas of the holy trinity.

[three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat]

What do you think of Legend being one of the bunnies in the trench coat?

-🐝

Oh that sounds kinda cute actually

[ghostbeam]

Faye makes me so fucking sad I hate everything

[seranextdoor]

tw. dark content, brief gory descriptions, smut, size difference.

pairing. mr. crawling x fem! reader. 1k words.

- i wish there was more on blissful love life end route, wish i couldve fuck this cute little shyt until he blabberin' :p i love this gameeeeeee! sorry for suddenly writing about homicipher after months of ghosting u guys.. hehe...

The smell of death lingers in the air ever since you brought along the certain entity to the overworld. It's faint enough to let you know that he was watching.

Not that you mind, he practically latched onto you like a barnacle the first time he met you at that strange hallway. Mr. Crawling, despite the oddities that comes along his unique charms, was a pleasant companion. Maybe it's the fact that you'd noticed the dark figure, slouching at the corner of your room, or the fact that you'd woke up with him next to you, the high-pitched giggling causing you to stir awake at the darkest hour.

You wonder if Mr. Crawling gets bored at times. You can't blame him, the underworld where he is from an endless maze with sharp corners here and there, not to mention the occasional earthquakes that change the layout of the map. Comparing his world to your little apartment was laughable. Maybe that's why you started feeling his cold fingertips running underneath the thin fabric of your clothes. Not that you'd stop him, Not that you want him to anyway. You taught him a few things, mainly how humans express their love. It's nice to have someone dote on you for bringing them a bowl of fresh human flesh.

'It's better to be with Mr. Crawling,' you thought.

Being with a human means it'll increase the chance of you getting caught and you wouldn't be able to go on another killing spree. At least Mr. Crawling accepts you for who you are.

"You... like?" his croaky voice puts your running thoughts to the side as you tilt your head, your eyes looking at him before they avert down to his wandering hand. His fingers are abnormally slender with a grayish tint as he slowly brushed them on your stomach before they went lower and lower until his fingers practically hovered over your lower body. He gives you a look, "need you." he points down at your clothed pussy, your cheeks quickly warms up at his words.

"Can touch?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. His fingers trembled the more he waited for your response like he itched to touch you. "Can." you give him a brief nod as his fingers slowly slipped under your shorts, spreading your folds before he pressed down on your clit causing your breath to hitches. You watched with staggered breathing as his hand moved in a circular motion, rubbing your clit slowly as your sopping hole clenched around nothing. "Good? Enjoyable?" he asked, giggling when you gasped and nodded at his words while he traced your slit, getting your juices all over his nimble digits.

His kisses are sloppy, and the metallic taste of blood from the flesh he consumed for dinner comes in as the aftertaste when you pull back for some air. Mr Crawling quickly chases after your lips, pressing his cracked and cold ones on yours as his tongue shamelessly swirls around yours. With enough juices coating his fingers, he easily slipped it into your entrance as it squelches, his other hand holding your thigh to keep your legs spreading. “Look down,” he pulled his fingers out with a small pop, proudly showing his wet and pruney fingers to you before he slipped them into his mouth. “heh, good. Me happy!” he giggled, moving on top of you as you rested your legs on each side of his body.

“Mr. Crawling...” you whined, watching him with blurry vision as he pulled the black clothing up, just enough for his cock to peek through. It's almost as if the entity wants you to see it, wants you to see how desperate he is. His pre-cum glistens and gather at the tip of his cock, bulging vein runs on the side of his shaft as your eyes shifts to the patch of dark hair on his pelvis. His knees dig into the mattress, his hand aligning the tip of his cock into your entrance. “Me... go into you slow.” he gently prods your hole with the tip of his cock, shifting his eyes on your face and down to your pussy as he pushes his thick cock past the ring of muscles.

You wince, the girth of his cock is stretching you to the maximum. "Hurt? Pain? Desire me go out?" he asked, looking down at you before you shook your head at his question, "I'm glad." he smiled at your reaction. Your fingers holding onto his biceps as your nails left crescent marks on his skin. "Pat, pat." he rubs your head, cupping your cheek as his cock throbs inside of you when your velvety walls flutters to adjust to his size. "Pretty." he whispers, leaning down to peck your lips. He lets you roll your hips, slowly fucking yourself into his fat cock while he holds your hip. "Like this? Happy?" he asked, his hips stuttering as he thrust back into you, matching your slow rhythm.

"Like it..." you replied, breathless as he began to pick up his pace. He was consistent, the tip of his cock brushing against the spot that sends you seeing stars on your ceilings with every single thrust, your nails raking down on his back, leaving claw marks which heals up as quickly as it came. The sound of skin slapping reverberates around the walls as Mr. Crawling gasps and pants in your ear each time he desperately slammed his cock into you. His long, black locks falling over your face, tangling with your hair and sticking to your forehead and chest. “Like you... Like this..." he chants, sharp teeth nibbling on your neck and down to your collarbones, leaving a trail of dark bruises in his wake.

“Close... me close,” his thick cock throbs inside of you, rubbing furiously against your walls as he holds your hips. His breath brushing against your lips as he gasped, “Come? Need you come," he begged, slobbery tongue poking out to flicks your swollen lips as he coaxed you into cumming on his cock by sharply rutting his cock inside of you as the lewd squelches from taking his cock deeper and deeper increases.

He pushes his hips into you when you came all over his cock, he quickly pushes his cock as deep as he can before his hot seeds spill into your womb, spilling out of your whole when he pulled out to rest his cock on your pelvis. He's still cumming, spurting the strings of loads on your stomach as you panted, your chest heaving up and down as he lazily kisses your neck and up to your flushed face,

"...Pretty."

[kamitv]

Higuruma’s the kinda guy that has no idea how the hell he pulled you so every time your eyes linger on him a little bit too long, he gets nervous as fuck. Sweat will trickle down the back of his neck and he gulps loudly enough for you to hear it, to which you start smiling at him.

Those wide-set eyes of his carefully drag back over to you and he notices the way you’re staring at his nose. You always gush about how much you love that part of his face and ever since then he can’t control the twitch beneath his slacks as he replays exactly why you love his nose so much in his head.

And hey, it’s no help that you’re sitting right on top of him right now. Your manicured nails that he paid for grazing all over his skin, touching his neck, his jawline, and soon his face too. Then you lean in and kiss the bridge of his nose so softly that it makes him grunt.

“You’re so perfect Hiromi,” You’d hush out to him in that tone you know drives him craze.

Higuruma is left slouching further back into the couch and spreading his legs further apart with a not-so-subtle roll of his hips upwards against you. “Please. That’s all you, sweetheart.” He tries to play it off as if he’s not complete putty in your hands but lord knows when you start trailing your touch down his breath his hitching in his throat.

You smile—a sight he can never get enough of, truly. “Take the compliment, Hiro. I’m bein’ serious…” Your fingers are wrapping around his tie now and his eyelids are all low on you.

Still trying to play it off, this time with a chuckle, he hums. “…Thank you, love.” He’s such a gentleman too, all easygoing and relaxed for you.

Which says a lot considering the kind of man he becomes while he’s fucking you.

Higuruma isn’t exactly mean, nor is he much of a talker during sex but… His cock damn sure says a lot as he later fucks up into you just to hear those sweet praises you give him.

You just love complimenting your man and he loves being complimented—honestly the perfect match for each other.

Every moan of his name that leaves your lips only drive him deeper and deeper inside you. He’s so stupidly in love with you and most times it shows through sex instead of words. Despite how he’ll have you bouncing up and down on his left curved cock for hours, this is the most passion you’ll get from the overworked man.

And when he does open his mouth to speak, your cunt is fluttering around his thick head. Whispering a crisply husk utterance of, “Fuck. Ride me, love. Ride me juuus’ like that. Y-Yeahhh. Shit. Love these fuckin’ hips, don’t stop movin’ ‘em.”

Your moaning grows louder by the second and he’s guiding you up and down his dick, eyes rolling to the back of his head with every perfect slam of your ass down onto him. His groans are so deep that they practically bounce off of the walls of your living room, leading you to clamp around him tighter than before.

Higuruma especially loves your nails for some reason. He can’t get enough of how they feel ghosting his skin every time you move your arms or whenever you move to grab ahold of his face and lean down to kiss him. That’s why he’s always paying for them (even though he secretly loves spoiling you too).

Then, when you get a bit more confident and slip your hands down to hold onto his arms, he groans again. His grip on your hips would tighten and there’s just one wet plop after another while you ride him in earnest.

Which is what prompts filthy words to pour out of his mouth like, “Uhuh, fuck yourself on my cock, pretty girl. C’mon, you can do it. Make yourself feel good. Use me baby, use me.”

Again, he’s not much of a talker but sometimes you cause the words to just spill from his lips. While he’s spewing filth out to you, you’re getting closer and closer to a messy release. It’s right as you’re about to cum that he demands you look him in the eyes (no matter the position) so that he can watch them gloss over as you cum all around his girthy cock.

You look so fucking gorgeous when you come undone too—it’s a sight Higuruma simply can’t get enough of. Half the time, he ends up fucking his cum up into you just because of that look alone. You wouldn’t even be able to move or run from his deep thrusts, feeling every inch of his carry against your walls until his cum is fucked all the way in to the point that it’s dribbling out of you.

It’s messy but, he loves it. He loves you. And even after sex, he still doesn’t understand how the hell he’s managed to bag a beautiful woman such as yourself…