#putting out his ghost of christmas past head

[cherubchoirs]

cake does it help if i told you that my brain failed to comprehend gabriel's true face? like. it scrambled itself upon setting sight on it

I’M GLAD...bc i still believe his true face is unknowable,,,,except here's a better view i doodled of it to get it right

his eyes are meant to mimic the colors of a dawn sky and his flames are inspired by the fire produced by potassium (bc i...think it’s pretty)!! contrary to what i drew too, he never removes his helmet as his face is meant to only be seen by god (plus the light from it really IS too bright lol) i definitely wanted it to be classical angel (despite archangels being almost entirely human-looking) and a little hard to parse upon first seeing it bc 1) divine monsters good and 2) VERY funny to imagine this throwing those tantrums. big baby!!!!!

[wandaslittlebird]

Her Special Girl

Stepmom!Wanda x Reader

After being away at college for three years, you finally come home for the holidays. And no one is more excited to see you than your stepmom.

CW: Stepmom/Stepdaughter, MOMMY ISSUES, slight daddy issues, mommy kink, cheating, breastfeeding, fingering (R receiving), mentions of strap usage, flashbacks, mentions of past: suicidal thoughts, loss of virginity, ghosting

Word Count: ~5k

A/N: I think if I keep this up, they’re going to revoke my degree in psychology and bury me for defending psychosexual development.

A/N: I could be talked into making a part 2 for this. And by talked into I mean approximately 1 person needs to ask. I had way too much fun with this.

Part 1 of Her Special Girl

——————————————————--

She knew something was wrong when you had called her to pick you from your mom’s house a week early. You weren’t supposed to be coming home till Christmas Eve, but here you were, curled up in her passenger seat only three days after being home for Christmas break. 

Wanda wasn’t supposed to be the one picking you up. You originally called your father, but he was, unsurprisingly, unavailable. Apparently he was off playing ‘not the world’s worst stepdad’ with Wanda’s boys for the week. Probably some bonding time enforced by Wanda. He was never terribly keen on spending time with his family. Plus it got the miserable old man out of her hair for a few days. Merry Christmas to Wanda.  

“Mom’s house was that bad, huh?” she asked. You simply nodded in response. She made a sympathetic noise and rubbed the back of your head. “I’m sorry sweetheart. We’ll talk about it when we get home?” 

You nodded again, thankful she wasn’t going to fill the car with awkward small talk. You reached for the radio, turning up the quiet christmas music. You rested your head against your knees, absently humming the familiar music to soothe yourself. You didn’t notice the way Wanda’s heart absolutely melted everytime she got a glance at you. As much as it broke her heart that you’d had a bad experience at your mother’s house, she was glad to have you home for Christmas. 

—------

Wanda and your father had married when you were around 16. In the first years, you weren’t close. In fact, you had hated Wanda at first. The kindness and gentleness she offered you was so alien and unfamiliar. Everytime she did you a favor without being asked, or made a move to give you physical reassurance, you felt like your inside would turn to mush. By that point, you were old enough to decide when you wanted to go to your dad’s house, and it felt easier to avoid her entirely than confront the gnawing feeling in your chest that arose whenever you interacted with her. So you spent those years at your mom’s house.

But as time passed, something shifted. 

In what was supposed to be your last semester of high school, it became pretty clear you were not going to pass. Your life, the one you had planned for at least, fell into a tailspin. You watched all of your friends move on without you. Both of your parents were extremely disappointed with you and seemed to give up on you in favor of the new families they’d created. All of your hopes and dreams of finally escaping to college were put on hold. You had completely lost all direction. 

And one night in late July, when there was no school to look forward to in August and no hope of starting a life of your own without a high school diploma, you hit rock bottom. You were lying down in the shower at your dad’s house and you found yourself unable to get up. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t do it anymore. And just when you thought your body would decay into the blue tile, you heard a knock at the door.

“Honey? Are you okay in there?” 

It was Wanda. You wanted to yell that you were fine and you'd be out in a minute, but you couldn’t get the words out of your mouth. So you didn’t respond. 

You heard the sound of a key pressing into the lock, and the hesitant steps of your stepmother making her way into the bathroom. “Honey?” she called again. She gasped when she found your limp body in the shower. She threw the glass door open, turned off the shower that had long since gone cold, and wrapped you up in a towel. You were too far gone to be embarrassed that your stepmother was seeing you naked at 18 years old. All you could do was throw your arms around her and sob and babble apologies. 

“Oh! My sweet girl. How long have you been in here? I just woke up to use the restroom and I heard the water still running. You poor thing, have you been in here all night? You’re freezing. Your poor lips are purple! Come on, let's get you warmed up.”

With impressive strength, she was able to pick you up and carry you to bed. She threw all of your softest blankets around you cocooning you with warmth on all sides. Then she sat on the bed next to you, wiping the cold wet hair from your forehead. 

And for once, you were too weak to push her away. Too weak to fight the magnetic draw you had always had towards the woman. You needed her more than anything in the world. You wanted to be surrounded by her. You craved an impossible closeness with her. The hole in your heart had grown so big it nearly devoured you, and she was here to patch it up and kiss it all better.

So you melted into her touch, inching your body closer to where she sat on the bed until you were wrapped around her. You almost expected her to inquire as to where this was coming from, the sudden closeness after avoiding her for so long. You thought maybe she would even reprimand you for your childish behavior, or call you weird for acting like this with her. But she didn’t. “Aww my sweet girl. You’ll be alright. I’m not going anywhere. Mama’s here.”

And she didn’t call you weird when you tugged on her nightshirt, silently asking her to lay down with you. She simply crawled under the covers, kissed your head, and pulled your still naked body into her arms. “You poor thing, you're still freezing. It’s okay, mama will keep warm.”

And she didn’t reprimand you when you decided there was still too much separation, so you pulled her nightshirt up over her head, leaving her bare in bed with you. “Mmm, you’re right this will get you all nice and warmed up. You're a very smart girl.”

“I love you, mama.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

She tangled her body into yours, enveloping you in the warmest embrace. Her skin was so incredibly soft against your, pressed into every inch of your body. You could feel the way her heart overflowed with contented joy with you between her arms. 

And nothing was ever the same after that. In the span of twenty minutes with her, you’d gone from believing you could die on the shower floor and no one would care, to feeling like the single most important thing in her entire world. You were hers. 

And you were hers when she gave you your first kiss over an episode of “Legend of Korra.” You’d been so over eager, it’d felt like you were trying to eat her face, but she didn’t make fun of you. She just calmly pulled back, giving you all the instructions you needed to make your second kiss perfect. 

And you were hers when she took your virginity while your father was away on a business trip. She had laid you out on the bed, kissing slow trails down your stomach while you gasped and shuttered at every new sensation. That first night, she treated you like you were made of the finest glass, beautiful and delicate. 

And you were hers when she cried into your arms, begging you not to go so far away for college. With her help, you’d finally gotten a high school diploma. You had the funding from your father to go anywhere you wanted. She wanted to want you to go, she really did. She wanted to want whatever was best for you, but she wasn’t ready to let go of you yet. 

But when you packed your bags and left anyway, you couldn’t be hers any longer. There were no phone calls, no texts, no apologies or explanations for why you left. You were simply gone like you’d never existed in the first place.  

—------

“So,” she asked, helping you carry in your luggage and dropping it in the foyer, “do you wanna talk about what happened with your mother?” She knew you and your mother had never gotten along. She was honestly more wondering why you even decided to go home in the first place. You had spent Christmases with your friends since you’d left for college, but this year you had inexplicably decided to come home. 

You shrugged. “Same as always, I guess. There’s never been a group of people I’m so palpably unimportant to. She and my stepdad have a family of their own, ya know? And I’m just… not part of it. Every time I’m there I feel like a ghost haunting a happy family.” Tears welled up in your eyes, falling down your cheeks. 

“Oh, honey,” Wanda sighed, cupping your cheek with her hand. You only cried harder at the gesture. It was so kind. So gentle. So familiar. You fought your every instinct to not throw yourself against, clinging to her like a petulant child. You wanted to be close to her again.  

The look in her eyes made you feel like you were going to explode. She was listening to you, like actually listening to you. You couldn’t help but pour your heart out to her. “I don’t even know why I tried to come home this year. I just had this idea that I was gonna come home after being gone for so long and she was going to have magically changed. I just had this, like… fantasy that she’d wrap her arms around me and apologize for not being there for me, say that all this time away has made her realize that she can’t live without me, tell me how I’m her most special little girl and she’ll do anything to make it right.”

You turned away from her, suddenly very embarrassed of all the things you’d just confessed. “It was stupid. Whatever. It’s never been like that and it’s never going to be like that. I’m fucking 22, I wasn’t going to be mommy’s little princess anyway.” You felt the urge to run away. You couldn’t bear to look at your stepmother’s face any longer. You made a quick break for the stairs, but Wanda caught your wrist.

“Honey, wait!” she said, pulling you back around to face her. Your head spun and your skin tingled when she touched you. “You know you're still my special girl, right?” 

“Of course, but you have your boys and they’re your whole world. And that’s a good thing! They’re really lucky to have you, I just…” You trailed off, unsure of what to say next. 

“You just?” she asked after you didn’t speak for a minute. 

Another torrent of tears stung your eyes. “I can’t be your special girl. I’m not even really yours.”

Wanda tilted her head in confusion. “What do you mean by that, honey?”

“I’m not your baby,” you said, choked up by your failed attempt to not let your tears fall. You ducked your head, avoiding her gaze at all cost.

She took a step towards you. “Hey,” she started, reaching for your chin to make you look at her. “I’ve missed you, you know? While you’ve been gone.”

“You did?” you asked in almost a whisper. 

“I did,” she reassured. “I thought about you all the time. I never let your father get rid of your bedroom, even though he wanted to move his office there. And there’s still a chair at the end of the dining table for you. And in the winter time I always buy that peppermint creamer for my coffee because it was always your favorite.”

Your resolve finally crumbled and you threw yourself around her, clinging to her desperately. “I missed you too, mama. I wanted to come home to see you, but I didn’t think you’d ever wanna see me again. After I… I thought you’d hate me forever!” you were sobbing in her arms, head tucked under her chin as her long nails scratched your scalp, just how you like. 

“Shh, baby it’s okay. I could never hate you. You’re home now. Mama’s got you,” she cooed. “Let’s get you a nice warm bath, get you all cleaned up, and then we can watch a movie in my room. Does that sound good?”

You nodded, reluctantly removing yourself from her. She reached out for your hand and smiled when you grabbed her arm with both hands, clinging to her awkwardly as you made your way up the steps. She led you to the master bathroom that had a fancy corner tub. She ran the water, checking the temperature to make sure the water was just right. 

“Alright pretty girl, arms up,” she said, lifting the hem of your shirt over your head. She neatly folded your shirt and placed it on the counter. She turned around to find you with your arms bashfully crossed over your chest. She took your hand. “None of that, sweet girl. It’s just you and mama, you don’t need to cover yourself.”

“‘s cold,” you mumbled, goosebumps rising across your chest.

“I know,” she said, bending down to unbutton your pants and push them down around your ankles. You wrapped your arms around her neck, using her for balance as you kicked out of your pants. “We’re gonna have you all warmed up in just a second, sweetheart.”

As soon as you were naked, you scrambled over to the warm tub. Steam was rising from the water’s surface where it met the cool air. You hissed as your cold feet met the water. Wanda giggled at your eagerness, folding your pants and underwear and placing them on top of your shirt. “Careful, pretty girl,” she chuckled. 

You sank into the tub, slowly allowing your body to adjust to the temperature. You sighed in contentment, resting your head back against the ledge of the tub. You rolled your head to the side to face Wanda, who had stripped off her jeans, leaving her in a long gray sweater that barely covered her ass. Your eyes glimmered at the sight of the beautiful woman. “Will you get in with me?” you asked. “Please?”

“Not tonight, honey,” she said, sitting down on the ledge of the tub behind your head. She stuck her feet into the water on either side of you, leaving your head between her bare thighs. “Mama’s already had her bath. Now keep your head tilted back for me. I don’t wanna get any soap in your eyes.” Any protests you had were quickly cut short when you felt long fingers massaging your favorite coconut shampoo in your hair. Wanda worked cautiously, careful not to get any soap in your eyes. She somehow managed to keep your face almost entirely dry throughout the entire process. 

You nearly started to cry when she started applying soap to your body with a soft washcloth. It had been so long since someone had touched you so gently. You could feel how much she cared for you as she softly scrubbed the day's grime from your body. Each caress left trails of goosebumps rising on your soapy skin. You felt like you might melt into the bathwater. 

“Alright little love, kneel up nice and straight for me so I can get you all clean,” she calmly commanded. You hesitantly got up on your knees and turned to face her, reluctant to pull your body from the warmth of the water. Now that you were looking up at her, you felt suddenly exposed again. It was much easier to be naked in front of her with your back turned. 

You took in a sharp inhale when the washcloth landed between your legs. “Mama…” you whined, looking up at her with worried eyes. Her touch felt so good you couldn’t help but buck against the cloth while a knot still coiled in the pit of your stomach. You had the fleeing thought that you should tell her to stop and that this was wrong. But as she continued her ministrations, your head seemed to empty itself of any such thoughts. All you could focus on was the growing sensation between your legs. 

“Aww, sweet girl,” Wanda cooed. “It’s okay that you like it when you like it when mama touches you like this honey. You don't have to be embarrassed, angel.” She made slow, teasing circles around your clit through the thick cloth. You grabbed her arm, keeping her in place until she finally had had enough of the teasing and gently freed herself of your grip. 

“Mama,” you whined again as she continued to wash down the curve of your ass and the inside of your thighs. You weren’t sure why, exactly, you found yourself chanting her name, but it seemed to be the only word you could find. 

She smiled. “You’re okay, angel. Mama got you. I love you so very much, sweetheart. I’m gonna take care of you, just like I used to. There’s no need to be embarrassed or guilty or scared. You’re still your mama’s special girl, okay?” She leaned down to kiss your forehead. You closed your eyes and allowed her complete control over your body.  “We’re all finished, detka. You can sit back down now.” She guided you back down into the water, turning you back around and resting your head against her inner thigh. She gently started to dry your hair as you settled back into the water. You found yourself wrapping your arms around her calf, clutching at her like she might fly away.

“Mama?” 

“Yes, little love?”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“How do you mean, angel?” Her voice was laced with concern. You weren’t exactly sure how to respond, so you nuzzled your face into her thigh in embarrassment. “Hey little love.” She bent down so she could see your face. “It’s okay. You can tell mama. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

You shifted around uncomfortably, unsure of how to phrase what you wanted to say. “I need you really badly mama,” you said, barely above a whisper. “I know I’m too old, but I wanna be your special little girl forever.” 

“Oh honey,” she soothed, “you’re never too old to be my special little girl. Even if you wanted me to take care of you forever, I’d love every second of it.” She laid back against the wall, closing her eyes and allowing herself to fantasize about what it would be like to have you back. Forever, this time. A faint smile painted her face at the thought. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re too old to need your mama. They might not understand it like you do, but you are a very very special girl and your mama loves you very very much.”

You nodded against her, shyly tucking your face back into her thigh. You sat like that for a minute, letting her fingers scratch your damp scalp while you smiled in contentment. 

But you could only rest naked between her bare legs for so long before the little pings of arousal took over. You turned around to face her, this time straddling a single one of her legs between two of your own. You sat back on your feet, resting your head on her knee. 

“Mama, please. I need to feel you again,” you sighed. You desperately craved the feeling of closeness you’d once shared. The feeling that you and her were the only two people in the world, and that you were as important to her as she was to you, and that was the only thing that mattered. 

You wanted her inside of you, touching all the parts of you no one else got to see. You yearned for the way she made you feel like the most precious thing in the universe, chasing your pleasure like it was her own. She felt good when you felt good. 

Conversely, you wanted to be inside of her, pushing into her like a puzzle piece that had always meant to fit together. You felt like you could rewrite time, finally inside your mama like you were supposed to be all along. 

She reached down beside the tub and pulled up a fluffy pink towel. She stretched it out with her arms, welcoming you into a soft embrace. She took such care in drying off every part of you, down to your calves that still stayed in the water. 

You sat in between her legs, her arms wrapped around your bare body. She pulled you close to her, your back flush against her chest. Then she wrapped her legs around yours, effectively pinning them open against the wall of the tub. 

You pulled at the sleeves of her sweater, desperate to get closer to her. There was still too much fabric between the two of your bodies. 

She shushed you pleas with gentle hands. “Not right now, detka. Let mama show you how much she’s missed you, okay? Then we can cuddle up all naked under the soft blankets on the bed just how we like to. Does that sound okay?”

You let out a displeased whine. You were extremely impatient. It had been years since you’d had her so close. But as she stroked your hair with one hand and your clit with the other, you found yourself more amenable to suggestions. “P-promise?”

“I promise, sweetheart,” she reassured. 

She kept her pace just steady enough that talking, and thinking for that matter, became difficult. “A-and we stay like that all-all night?”

“All night, angel.”

You finally nodded in agreement, relaxing against her. You kept a ironclad grip on her bicep, feeling the muscles flex as she played with your most sensitive parts. 

She moved her fingers down through your folds, teasing your entrance. You tried to force your hips down onto her fingers, but her legs kept you from moving. You settled instead for whining like an injured puppy. “Please mama, please.”

“Mmm,” she hummed in your ear, circling your entrance with the tip of her finger. “I’m so lucky. I get to have my most special girl and all her most special parts,” she sunk her middle finger into you, eliciting a mangled groan, “all to myself.” 

“All yours,” you assured, feeling her finger curl and twist inside of you, making room for more. She was always so calculated with the way she pleased you. You were like a present she was methodically unwrapping, peeling each piece of tape off, careful not to damage the paper. She was in no rush to tear you apart. She kept her painfully slow pace, but sunk a second finger into you. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head. “I’m all yours, mama.” 

She leaned your head back onto her shoulder and kissed your cheek. You didn’t even notice the uncomfortable strain the position should’ve caused your neck. There was just her everywhere, caressing each part of your body with a tenderness you’d never experienced anywhere else. Her hand explored your chest, teasing hard nipples with gentle pinches and soft touches. Nails scraped their way down the soft expanse of your stomach, paying special attention to the curve of your hip bone.

“Mama, I love you. You feel so good inside of me, please don’t stop. Oh god please never stop,” you whined. You didn’t even care that she was moving her fingers too slow to make you cum. You were so content with just her filling you up, touching the parts of you no one else got to touch. You got to be hers all over again.

You thought back to your days with her, home alone. She’d let you sit on her lap in her office, arms and legs wrapped around her like a koala bear, her strap nestled inside of you. She was always so impressed by your ability to stay still for hours on end. But how could you want for anything more than to be full of her?

“You’re so tight and warm for mama,” she cooed. “I love feeling you around my fingers, baby. You make such pretty noises.” She sped up her movements, highlighting the sound of the wetness between your legs. You were nearly dripping a trail down the side of the tub. 

You tried to buck against her hand, but her legs kept you perfectly still. “Ooh mama. I love you. I love you mama,” you cried, unable to escape the building pleasure of her fingers. She slipped a third finger inside of you, only further spurring your desperate cries. “Please mama!  Please, I'm so full. Mama I wanna cum for you. I wanna cum on your fingers. Please! Please let me cum on your fingers.” 

Her fingers twisted and curled in all the ways that drove you crazy. You knew you couldn’t cum until she touched your clit, which she was tactfully avoiding for that exact reason, but you still felt nearly out of your mind with pleasure. You were jerking against her now, causing her to wrap her arms around your waist. “Calm down honey. Mama’s got you. You’re doing so good for me sweet girl.”

“Good girl for mama,” you mumbled brainlessly. The continuous pounding of her fingers made your head spin. There was nothing in the whole world but you and your mama. Nothing else mattered. 

“That’s right, angel. You’re mama’s good girl,” she praised. 

You nodded dumbly, unable to muster any more thoughts than “mama” which you chanted repeatedly. She shoved three fingers in your mouth, making the word come out even more unintelligible. You whined around her hand, but obediently sucked her fingers. 

“Can you touch yourself for me princess?” She asked, both her hands too occupied to finally put an end to your abuse. You both knew that just a little pressure to your clit would finally push you over the edge. 

You didn’t even acknowledge her question, just hopelessly cried around her fingers. “Aww sweet girl, you need mama to do it for you? That’s okay, honey. Mama will take care of it.” She pulled her fingers from your mouth, now covered in your spit, and reached down between your legs. She kissed the side of your head while she finally attended to your neglected clit. “That’s it, princess. Cum on mama’s hand.”

You were nearly silent as you fell over the edge, unable to do little more than jerk and squeak. She gently led you down from the high, removing her fingers and bracing you against herself so you didn’t tumble back into the now cold bathtub. She cleaned you up with a washcloth and wrapped you back up in the soft towel. 

She chuckled when she picked you up and saw your face, blissed out and stupid. She thought back to before you had left for college, when you were 18 and it took a lot more than three fingers and 20 minutes to get you here. “Nobody has touched you like that for a long time, have they angel?”

You shook your head against her chest. “Only you mama.” 

She smiled at the admission. Laying you down at the center of her big bed. You pawed at her sweater when she pulled away. “I’m just taking this off. I’ll be down there in just a second.”

She crawled under the covers only a moment later, pulling you closer and discarding the towel onto the floor. You nuzzled into her neck, wrapping your arms around her waist. You were so warm and so loved. You felt so important again, just like you did the fateful night she’d pulled you from the cold shower. In that moment, you couldn’t wrap your head around why you’d ever left. How could you ever have left anything so perfect?

“Mama, can I be inside of you next time?” You mumbled into her chest, unwilling to completely separate yourself from her. 

“Of course you can,” she replied, pulling you in to kiss your forehead. “Anything for my special girl.”

You smiled. “Can I use the dark red toy? The one that gives you the little bump right here?” You touched her lower stomach in indication. 

She couldn’t help but laugh at the request, recalling the only other time she allowed you to use that toy right before you left. Seeing the bulge in her lower stomach had gotten you so excited you’d pathetically rutted into like a teenage boy. “Only if you can be gentle with mama.”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Gentle with mama.” 

She smiled down at you, noticing your eyelids start to droop. “That’s enough for tonight, little love. Rest now and we can talk some more in the morning, okay?” She gently guided your head down to her chest. She smiled when you almost immediately took her nipple into your mouth, suckling contentedly, just like she’d taught you to do. Oh, how she loved you.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift off into a daydream. Maybe she could convince you to move schools so you could come back, live at home with her. Every stressful assignment or class or situation with your friends could end like this: in this intimate act that drowned out both your stress and hers. Maybe if you’d stay, she could get on hormones and start actually producing milk again. All for you. All for her baby girl. And she'd remind you how loved you were everyday, and you never take her for granted again. 

Yes, she’ll have you back in her arms just like it used to be. You’ll come home to her, and you’ll finally see that you’ll never need anyone else ever again.

[tame-the-lion-writes]

Okay, so here I go. (I’m sorry if words are misspelled or if I used the wrong words; I’m dyslexic but thank goodness for autocorrect. Sometimes it corrects it for me and at others it puts a completely different word then what I meant; so fair warning.)

So, I was wondering if it will be Ghost that cat reader opens up to about her fear of deep water. It was pretty obvious that she has trauma from it from that one time Ghost tried to give her a bath after she was done for the day doing her “mouse killing” duty; it is most likely a deep fear developed from trauma from being held under by an abusive old owner/partner.

Like yes, it’s obvious she irritates Ghost out of “spite” (and probably does it for shits & giggles on her end) but HE was the one she clung onto when it was made clear of her fear of deep water. She may have been terrified but she felt safe enough to hold onto him & allowed him to comfort her during that event; she cuddled herself under his head and tapped her head against his chest which are signs of trust for a cat.

Yes, she’s definitely more friendly & open to Gaz (first to earn that with her), Soap (second) and Price (third to earn the right to be comfortable with her) but what if it actually came down to core issues/serious concerns it’s actually Ghost she goes to. Mostly because she can tell that although they annoyed each other (not really but more just for loving fun) that they DO understand each other on a level that the others just can’t.

The other three are there for basically nap time together, to play with and being cute with; but it is only with him will she be THAT open with serious things/issues. For her, he becomes her special & only companion for those kinds of matters. (Which once he realizes that she views ONLY him as special/worthy enough to be open with stuff does he feel honored instead of annoyed about it. After all he was trying to make a connection with her and now he has a strong one that only he has access to; she won’t open up about serious stuff with the others in a way that she will only do with him.)

Basically is will be the bases/beginning for her to start accepting him as a comfort source/companion. Of course, she’ll still be a little brat/little shit towards him; but it will be out of good fun/love intentions behind it, no malice or hatred behind her annoyance towards him anymore.

Hope this helps you come up with an idea. ☺️

Oh, babe, you got my vision perfectly LMAO. (And no worries about your dyslexia, I understood you perfectly!)

CW: mentions of past abuse (and technically attempted murder)

I won't go so far as to say that she would never go to the other boys, but yes, she has an extra special bond w/ Ghost because they both understand what it's like to survive abuse--especially abuse at the hands of someone they should've been able to trust. It's also very much an "I hate you" relationship in that they only "hate" each other because of that similarity/understanding. We tend to be more critical towards people like us because of how we perceive ourselves; we are our best critics, after all.

In short, "canonically," reader got tossed over a bridge into a river when her past owner tried to get rid of her. Something along the lines of--she became too big of a burden. Being a birthday/Christmas gift, they didn't expect the true responsibility of raising a pet. The reason doesn't really matter, though; either way, she scratched her way out of the soggy cardboard box and dragged herself to shore, then made her way to the old abandoned farm nearby. Hence why she doesn't like deep water--especially not when someone is carrying her towards it.

But next time Ghost tries to clean her, he's learned his lesson. Fills a small tub just 2-3 inches high, and instead of casually tossing her in, is surprisingly patient as he places her back paws in first--letting her wade a few seconds before plopping her front feet in. She's still whiny, of course, used to washing herself, but with Ghost's help, he get's the places she can't reach. Not to mention that the shampoo he's using smells pretty good.

"Not so mean when your buttons ain't pushed, huh?" he sighs, only to add-- "Sorry 'bout last time. Should've respected your boundaries."

You're quiet for a little before bumping your head into his hand, as if in acceptance of his apology.

"'Sides, you've got your reasons," he goes on, moving to scratch under your chin as well. "And fear ain't your fault."

You meow in understanding, then blink slow.

"Ha--" He copies the blink back. "Think this is the nicest you've been to me."

The rest of bath time is quiet, save for the sound of you shuffling around in the tub in response to Ghost's ministrations. But just as he finishes rinsing you clean of suds, Gaz comes around the corner, ready to kick off his boots after a long day.

"See you're gettin' close with the kit there," he smiles, dusting his hands off in mid-air. And while you half-expect Ghost to respond with acceptance, instead, he mutters--

"What else am I supposed to do? She stinks."

Well, there goes the moment.

You swipe at his hand with a hiss, only to be met with his scowl and a towel that swallows you whole.

When you do eventually tell him--the reason for your fear, that is--it's after another bath, and when you're snuggled close under the weight of his arm. His hand cups the back of your neck, callouses almost silky from how he handles you oh-so gently. A tempered practice he's forced himself to learn since you met. Because though kindness doesn't come naturally to him, it doesn't unnerve you; sometimes you wonder if kindness, as a choice, is better.

"You know I--" he clears his throat-- "we'd never. Right?" Simon whispers, his voice as deep as the purr that eventually rumbles through your chest.

Your fingers dance through the fine blonde of his hair, illuminated only by thin streaks of moonlight filtering through the blinds. Then you draw your palms down, so instead, you're holding the sides of his face, the scars and marks of his beautifully imperfect skin like stories untold beneath your thumb. And you press your nose to his.

"I know."

(He may or may not run into your former owner eventually, and he may or may not threaten to kill him or worse. But that's a story for another day :D)

[ragingbookdragon]

“I never knew the LT was good with bairns,” Soap says, watching, as he sits along the wall, their superior entertain a few local children.

She doesn’t bother to look up from knife she’s been sharpening for the past few minutes. “Simon’s always been good with kids.”

“How do you ken?” he asks, shifting his gaze to her; her eyes shine in the glow of the setting sun in the rundown gas station they’ve been waiting for exfil at.

“He had a nephew,” she replies simply. “His name was Joseph.”

“Had?”

“Had.”

Soap’s brows furrow and he looks back at Simon who is now kneeling down and hushing one of the children who’d apparently fallen and skinned a knee. He watches as the man gently helps them sit up, wipes away the dirt, and puts a bandaid on their knee; his hands move to the child’s face where he gently wipes away the tears falling down their dusty cheeks.

“How old was the bairn?” he asks quietly.

“If I recall correctly…Joey was only four.”

Soap’s expression falls and he looks back at her. “No…”

“You recall in Mexico when he said he had a cold heart, yeah?” he nods. “Simon’s lost too much to let it be warm again,” she murmurs, eyes finally lifting to the LT, a fond look in her gaze as the man gently brushes the child’s hair as the young boy reaches up to touch the skull mask, not a hint of fear in the boy’s expression. “But even the cold can’t survive the warmth of memories.”

By the time exfil comes, they practically have to pull the man away from the children whilst he unlatches their arms from around his legs, laughter and tears in the air as the kids run down the street waving at the back of the jeep driving off into the distance.

She busies herself with letting her loved ones know she’s alive and well, occasionally glancing at Soap next to her whose leg hasn’t stopped bouncing since they got in the jeep.

After a moment, Soap pulls his phone out and nudges Ghost, waiting until the man looks down at the screen.

“Wanna see my sister and brother’s bairns?” he asks quietly, a hopeful smile on his face.

Ghost blinks, expression stern, and Soap expects a no, but then the LT’s head turns and looks down, eyes softening at the sight of a pair of triplet boys dressed in Sunday finery, baby newsboy caps on their heads, fire on their heads as they grin toothily at the camera.

“Tha’s ma sister’s bairns. Angus, Alastair, and Arran. Their heids are licks of fire, rambunctious lot they are. Only four the lot of them but they—”

She quietly observes the scene unfolding beside her, gaze soft as she sees the reflection of the same gentle love in Ghost’s eyes, even more when he plays a video of the three boys tackling Soap into the hills of the Scottish highlands, squeals of laughter and love escaping the boys as Soap hugs them tightly and pretends to gnaw on their arms and necks.

“They’d love you,” Soap murmurs. “If ya wanna come for Christmas, mam would love to…” he trails off.

“We’ll be there,” she says before Ghost can reply and the man looks over at her; she cocks a brow. “What we don’t have plans for Christmas?”

Ghost is unusually quiet for a moment then he nods. “We’ll be there.”

[ceilidho]

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 3. (read 1, 2) tags: dubcon

-

The Christmas party presents a whole new challenge in trying to ward Johnny off.

It’s hard because at first you almost gravitate towards him, weirdly enchanted by his ugly sweater with red reindeer on the sleeves. It’s only when he finally spots you—and you shudder when you notice the way his eyes scan across the crowd of other employees, seeking you out—and he practically lights up that you snap back to reality.

He blazes a path towards you like a heat seeking missile, dodging around your other coworkers. You stand there awkwardly as he cuts across the room, wondering if maybe you should’ve just texted your manager some excuse about feeling sick and stayed home. Too late now though. 

Fortunately for you, the assistant manager intercepts before Johnny’s able to make it halfway across the room, stepping between the two of you like they don’t even realize they’ve interrupted anything. There’s a split second where you can see Johnny wrestle with the urge to push them aside, fury clear in his eyes. Maybe only to you. The assistant manager opens their mouth and talks like nothing’s amiss, like it isn’t clear that Johnny is only a handful of seconds away from causing serious harm.

Then it passes; recedes into the dark. Johnny’s blue eyes go pellucid again, unbothered by the real world. The smile that spreads across his face seems sincere; if you hadn’t been watching him that entire time, you might not have even thought that he’d harboured any violence inside of him. 

You saw it though. You saw it.

It makes sense in the context of his background. You’d never given the ex-military thing much thought, but every so often you can almost feel the ghost of its presence in the back of your mind. When his reflexes kick in or the gleam in his eyes grows dark. He doesn’t ever talk about his past life in specifics, only grand overtures meant to distract anyone listening, but what he does reveal sometimes makes your stomach clench. 

You swallow and turn back to the conversation with your other coworkers, steadfastly avoiding Johnny’s eyes peeking over the assistant manager’s head. 

The breakroom is decked out in cheap Christmas decorations, a fiber-optic tree set up in the corner, iridescent bristles shifting colours with every blink. Someone passes you a vaguely alcoholic drink and you sip at it nervously, reaching the bottom of your first cup faster than you anticipated. 

Your secret Santa gift is on a table just outside the breakroom in the hall, along with all the other gifts. Something about it draws your eyes several times throughout the evening. Maybe something you saw but didn’t register. It’s hard to keep focused on the conversation happening around you when your attention oscillates between Johnny and the gift table, but you respond hastily when someone prompts you to answer. 

It comes to light when someone clinks a spoon against their glass and directs everyone to gather in the middle of the room. Two of the warehouse guys awkwardly try to bring the table into the room without knocking any of the gifts onto the floor. There are a few casualties, but when they manage to twist it enough to get it through the door, someone pulls up a chair to stand on and read off all of the names to hand out the gifts. 

Several people coo when you’re revealed as the recipient of Johnny’s gift. There’s no reason for it to come as a shock, but your stomach clenches anyway.

He stands practically right up against you when you open it. You know the second you unwrap it that the delicate bottle of perfume in your hands must have been in the three figures. All you did was get someone a handmade mug from a local craft fair. He stares at you when you unwrap it, beaming when you give him a very controlled thank you because the alternative is screaming that this is way too expensive for you to keep. 

“Ye should put it on,” he tells you, breathing just a little heavier. “Really want ta smell it on ye.”

You don’t know what possesses you to give it a spritz on your wrist, letting him guide your hand to dab it against the base of your throat. It’s intimate enough that his eyes follow the movement of your throat when you swallow, mouth going dry. They drag up to your lips when they part, a hesitant thanks hanging off your tongue.

“Jesus Christ, get a room already,” someone near you murmurs, but it doesn’t take long for their attention to slip off you as the next gift recipient is announced. Not Johnny though. 

Your mouth snaps shut.

He hovers at your back for the rest of the gift handouts, so close that you can feel the heat radiating off him. You flinch at his bitten off groans whenever you so much as fidget, rubbing against him. Shaking him off seems like a hopeless task until someone asks if you have a lozenge, giving you an excuse to take them to your locker. 

You can feel him stalking you like a shark around the breakroom when you chat with some of your other coworkers, the smile on your face becoming forced. 

“Did’ya know Johnny actually—oh, sorry, burped—he actually paid me…to get your name?” your coworker giggles, absolutely sloshed. You’re tipsy too, but her words make you go a bit cold.

“Pardon?” you ask. The red cup crackles when your fingers tighten around it.

“He paid me. Fifty dollars. Jus’ to get your name for the…for the stupid Santa thing. The secret Santa.”

You can feel the way your mouth hangs open, just a bit. Her words echo in your head, the conversation long over. You let her prattle on, still stuck on the thought of Johnny paying someone off just for the opportunity to give you a gift. The longer you stand there and chat with your coworkers, the more difficult it gets to look normal. 

“Isn’t that something?” she prompts, nudging you with an elbow. Even the slightest touch hits you like a battering ram. 

“Yeah,” you parrot back, “it’s something.”

Perhaps you’re overdue for a conversation with Johnny about boundaries. More than overdue. The package has been signed, sealed, and delivered. It was overdue months ago, the day you started working at the same store as him. By now, you should’ve quit or transferred, hell you should’ve yelled at him that one time he stopped you in the garden section to apply his own personal Chapstick to your lips (you don’t think about how you’d bitten them raw from staring across the row of potted flowers as he stacked bag after bag of fertilizer onto a customer’s pallet before pushing it to their car, his sleeves rolled up and thick biceps on display the whole time). 

Can anyone blame you for being confused? It’s obvious what he’s offering. He does nothing to hide it. It’s also obvious that it would be, unequivocally, a terrible idea to take him up on it. 

Maybe you just need some fresh air. You make an excuse and peel off from the rest of the group, heading for the door. Someone lurches out of the shadows in the corner before you can make it out. 

“Look, bonnie—mistletoe,” Johnny teases, not letting you so much as glance up before snatching you by the hips and reeling you into him. 

The kiss he plants on you is filthy and wet. Open-mouthed too so he can slip you his tongue, licking over the roof of your mouth. Sucking your bottom lip when you can’t help the whimper that slips out and he breaks away for only a split second to whisper oh fuck under his breath. Your mind reels when he dives back in for another kiss. He’s as good of a kisser as you might have expected, messy but forceful, threading a hand into your hair to hold you in place. The way he roots you in place licks at something delicious inside of you, a secret, buried urge.

Johnny finally pulls away when he can no longer convincingly ignore the way you push on his shoulders and squirm in his arms. His lips are wet when he pulls back, a thin strand of saliva clinging between your lips. It breaks when he runs his tongue across the wetness. 

Someone whistles and Johnny grins from ear to ear, bashful under the joy brimming out of him. You stumble away the second his hands loosen on your hips, wiping a hand across your mouth.

“Good for you, John!” someone shouts through cupped hands and several of your coworkers cackle. 

This time you actually manage to make it out the door and down the hall to the employee restroom. You spend the next few minutes washing your hands until your fingertips go pruney under the warm water and you try to think of anything except the texture of Johnny’s lips. 

You touch your lips no less than three times. Each time, your fingers come back trembling. It’s what you’d long expected from Johnny, from someone that looks like him, like the physical embodiment of ‘for a good time, call…’ written in lipstick on the back of a gas station bathroom door. 

The last thing you want to do is give him an inch, throw him a bone—actually lead him on, as your coworker might say. Still, your finger trembles on your lip. You know he’d make it good. Even if he didn’t, looking like that, who could blame you? The thought makes you wince, conscience of objectifying him, but haven’t you been subject to worse by now? You’re due far more than some measly peck for how many times he’s slapped your ass, stolen your scrunchie (two so far), or said something nasty to you.

It’s not hard to track him down when he’s always hovering nearby, this time just off by the watercooler with your manager and a few other coworkers. The hand not holding a drink is buried deep in his pocket, the smile on his face strained by a mask of politeness; you can tell at a glance that he’s only playing at civility, that he’d rather be anywhere else but chatting with his boss and colleagues at the office party.

When he spots you approaching the group of them, his eyes widen, excitement bleeding back into them. It takes your breath away.

“Ah, there’s your other half, Johnny,” your manager says and you freeze. 

“Aye, so she is. She’s a good little kisser, did’ye see?” Johnny gushes, pulling you in by the waistband of your pants. You’re a bit too tipsy to protest when he slips his hand around your waist. 

It clicks into place. When he pulls you into his side, it feels like slotting into a space made just for you, unwelcome or not. You don’t even notice if your other coworkers laugh or not, fixated on his eyes. He can hardly pull them away from you. Every long shift waking up on the sofa in the breakroom with Johnny standing over you, eyes glinting like a predator’s in the woods, and every coworker’s joke about being Johnny’s girl feels like it’s been leading to this. You have to know what it’d be like. 

“Um…Johnny?” you start, tugging on his shirt gently.

“Yeah, hen? What’s it?”

“Can we…um…do you wanna go somewhere more private?”

His breathing stops, body frozen against yours. “Ye serious, kitty? You’re not joking?”

You shake your head. “Just…just one time? Maybe?”

The first sign of movement from him is a full body shudder that nearly makes you step back. The frazzled look in his eyes borders on manic, flitting around the room looking for the nearest exit. Johnny tosses the group some hasty, poorly worded goodbye (you think he even flubs your manager’s name) and tears away from them, you still glued to his side. Someone giggles as you leave. You can’t pay them any mind though, not with how frantically Johnny pulls you out of the breakroom and down the hall, his long strides nearly making you trip over your feet.

“Johnny—slow down—”

“Hen, I’ll carry ye over my shoulder to the closet, I swear.”

He nearly barrels you over with how forcefully he pushes you into the closet, hot mouth latched onto the side of your throat. You hear the sound of the lock clicking behind him. The closet is swathed in darkness, only the barest hint of light bleeding through from underneath the doorway. It’s hardly enough for you to see anything in front of you, but that almost doesn’t matter with how Johnny curls around you, his body caging you in against the shelving behind you. 

“Please, please, fuck, I cannae believe it, fuck—” Johnny groans into your neck, a pathetic desperate sound that you’ve never heard from him before. He even keens a bit. “Oh Jesus, baby, I’ve been—dinnae if ye knew or not, but I’ve been fuckin’ obsessed with ye for ages, Christ.”

You let out a laugh in disbelief, embarrassed by how breathless it sounds. “I—oh—I f-figured.”

His hands drag up and down your back, tugging at the fabric of your shirt and practically ripping it out of where it’s been tucked into your pants. If you had buttons, you think you’d burst straight off, zip off the walls and roll under one of the shelves. Johnny’s eagerness bleeds through—months of barely concealed lust unravelling right in front of you, his hands practically shaking when they grope along your sides and under your breasts. His fingers dig almost painfully into your flesh until you whimper and he murmurs a broken apology into your neck.

“Wha’d’ye want, baby? I can—fuck, anything ye want, I promise—” Johnny begs, the sound almost pitiful. It makes your pussy ache.

“Your—your mouth—” 

The speed with which he drops to his knees almost makes you flinch. His kneecaps are only saved by the carpeted floor, present nowhere else in the employee section apart from the supply closets. His hands go to the zipper and button on your jeans, yanking viciously, almost snarling when they don’t immediately come undone. When you try to help him, he bares his teeth, more animalistic than you’ve ever seen him before.

“Do these fuckin’ pants even come off?” Johnny growls, giving another yank. You hear something rip and wince.

He manages to wrench your pants down until they pool around your ankles, only enough concentration left in him to pull one leg out and drape it over his shoulder. 

“Johnny—my underwear—holy shit—” you gasp when he mashes his face into the crotch of your panties, laving his tongue over the fabric. You can feel the heat of it through the gusset of your underwear, each desperate lick trying unsuccessfully to pull them to the side. 

“Fuck, s’ry, baby, I’ll take ‘em off,” he apologizes, voice muffled where his mouth is still pressed to your pussy. Reluctant to move even an inch away from you. 

It takes him a couple more seconds before he’s able to move away just long enough to pull your underwear down as well, struggling with getting it over the leg still draped over his shoulder and nearly losing his patience twice over. 

He takes to eating you out like something he’s done for years—naturally. Crudely. Eyes fluttering shut when he drags his tongue from your slit to your clit, unabashedly enjoying himself. His moans drag through you, making you nearly shake right out of your skin. His chin is already wet when you glance down. He spreads your inner lips with two fingers to open you fully to his gaze, lapping at your clit until he can hardly pull his mouth away from your cunt. 

Johnny drags one of your hands from his hair to cradle the side of his face, turning into your palm to take a deep inhale. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, eyes several degrees hotter when they meet yours through the curtain of his lashes.

“Fuckin’ smell like mine too,” he growls. You jolt at his words. He draws a finger into his mouth and gives it a suck, making you trill. 

“D-don’t get any ideas,” you gasp, other hand threading through his hair now, turnabout fair play. “S’just a—ah, ah—a one-time t-thing.”

“Aye, one time, one time,” he repeats. “Gonna make it so good f’r ye, baby.”

The two fingers spreading you open push against your entrance insistently. The initial stretch makes you tug at his hair, flushing when all that does is make him moan, mouth hung open sluttily. He looks even more strung out than you, eyes dark and heady. He’s also never looked more attractive.

Shelves jab into the small of your back, the ache growing the longer he keeps you like that with one leg slung over his shoulder, your knees almost buckling. Impossible to concentrate on the voice in your head screaming that this is a bad idea, not when he runs his tongue over your clit and sucks. Not when you’re forced to clamp a palm over your mouth to drown out your sounds. 

The press of a third finger into you makes you flinch and yank at his hair, harder this time. Hard enough for Johnny to back off, an apology muttered into your wetness. The two splitting you are more than enough, you think, a bit wildly. He shouldn’t be prepping you for anything more. There’s a furrow to his brows though, a bit of frustration wedged in there. Like putting up with your complaints annoys him just a bit.

“John—c’mon, please, not so loud,” you beg.

He pumps his fingers into you, eyes trained on the spot where they disappear. The look in his eyes borders on reverent. “Always mouthin’ off, huh? Even when I’m getting ye off? On my knees ‘n everything?”

“There are p-people outside,” you hiss, clamping your hand back down over your mouth when he curls his fingers and presses up into you. 

“Yeah?” The question sounds rhetorically, almost a challenge. The smile on his lips goes wicked sharp. “God, we wouldnae want ‘em ta hear, huh? What ye pulled me away from the party for?”

You don’t know why that’s what sets you off, but it does, eyes watering with the force of your orgasm. Back arched. Your head aches from where you knocked it back into the shelf behind you. Johnny groans when you clench around his fingers.

It’s a few seconds before you feel like you can speak again. The first thing you can utter is a hiss when Johnny laps at your slit again, far too sensitive for him to still be touching you.

“You can, ah…you can let me go now,” you pant. Coming back to your body takes an age, legs still trembling, held up by Johnny’s hands alone.

His fingers grip harder into your flesh. You stare down at him. 

“Oh, pretty baby,” Johnny coos, eyes black with desire, “we’re jus’ gettin’ started.”

[undressrehearsal]

is it casual now?

chapter 1

summary: you and ellie agreed that this was just for a little fun - so what's the harm in her inviting you to joel's for a movie night?

word count: 2.3k

tags: nsfw, fingering (e and r receiving), angst, dub con?? i think?, does this count as public sex?, this shit's messy af y'all, mean reader, toxic relationship

a/n: i've wanted to write a fic based off this song for a while now. i've seen a few people write it (the song's a banger) but i only ever see ellie being written as the distant toxic one and tbh i don't think that matches her character so here's the opposite

also i hid a one last stop reference in here if you find it you get a prize (it's not hard to find)

if you wanna be tagged in the things i post, just lmk in the replies!

Joel was trying to decide what movie you should watch. 

At least, Ellie thought he was. She could see the way his lips were moving - could even make out the words Dawn of the Wolf, whatever that meant - but she couldn’t actually hear him. She sat across from him at the dining table, nodding along, trying to school her expression into a pantomime of interest, but his words were drowned out by the ringing in her ears. 

Your hand on her thigh crept higher. 

Ellie shifted in the uncomfortable wood chair, uncrossing her legs only to recross them, and your hand didn’t move. You stroked slow circles into her jeans with your thumb; she would have thought it was absentminded if she didn’t know you so well. Ellie could see you in her peripheral. You smiled politely, nodding along as Joel listed off what movies he had found lately - it had become his mission to hunt for them while he was on patrol. (He always insisted that Ellie needed to be familiar with all the classics from before the outbreak.) 

Somewhere past the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, Ellie heard Joel say her name. She blinked, shifted in her seat again, and replied intelligently, “Huh?” 

He shook his head at her and laughed as he said, “Where you at, kiddo?” 

She ran a hand through her hair, purposely avoiding looking at you - she knew she’d only find that shit-eating smile on your face. “Sorry, had patrol late last night. Yeah, that movie sounds cool.” She had no idea what movie he had suggested. 

It didn’t matter much in the end. After switching off the lights, Joel sat back in his big old recliner (he’d looked like a fucking kid on Christmas morning when Tommy gave that to him), leaving the couch to you and Ellie. You leaned into her with your head on her shoulder; she had her arm draped over the back of the couch, not quite touching you. She was dancing a fine line between wanting to hold you and knowing you wouldn’t let her, but the tightrope was slipping from under her feet because you had put your fucking hand on her thigh again. She’d swear there was a damn magnet connecting your hand to her. 

Ellie covered a gasp with a cough when your hand drifted between her legs. Your eyes were glued to the flickering television, but there was no hiding the small, satisfied smile on your lips. And she fucking hated herself for wanting to kiss it more than anything. 

The tattered blanket you shared covered up the fact that the tips of your fingers were grazing across the seam of her jeans. Even the ghost of friction made her squirm, the movie becoming nothing more than white noise. You were too fucking bold, and her head spun when your nimble fingers undid the button and slid the zipper down so slowly it ached. When your fingertips dipped below the waistband of her boxers, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Joel. He was enthralled in the movie, and she couldn’t even pay attention to it; she hated herself for that too. 

She knew she shouldn’t; she knew she should’ve grabbed your wrist, told you to stop so she could just enjoy the movie with her… with Joel. He’d been trying to plan a movie night with her for a week, and tonight she had finally been free from patrol. God, she shouldn’t have invited you, but when he asked if she wanted to bring a friend, of course your name had popped up. 

She should have known it would be a mistake - an intoxicating one, but a mistake nonetheless. And when you dragged your fingers over her, pressing the lightest pressure to her clit, it took everything in her not to tilt her hips against your hand in search of friction. 

Ellie bit down on her lip so hard she'd swear she tasted blood when you dipped just the tips of your fingers inside her. It was embarrassing how easy it was - how wet she already was and you had hardly even touched her. But when you circled her clit, your fingers already soaked, the shame burning in her chest evaporated. Her eyes fluttered, heat burning in her stomach, your touch setting her aflame. Her fingers dug into the back of the couch. She longed to touch you, to just wrap her arm around you and hold you close, press your head to her chest so you could hear how her heart reached for you. 

Instead, she could only grip the couch behind your shoulder, gritting her teeth against the ache of it. You didn't even look at her, playing with her as though it were an afterthought, but there was no missing the smirk on your lips. She hated it; God, she wanted to kiss you. 

Ellie didn't dare look at Joel - she didn't think she could handle seeing him so engrossed in the movie he had been so excited to show her while she sat only a few feet away, coming undone on his couch. She couldn't handle the shame rising in her throat again. If she looked at him, she was sure she'd be sick right there. 

She tried so hard to keep it together - her hips ached from the force of holding them still, her lip surely cracked from biting it. Her chest burned with the moans she had to swallow like acid. But she couldn't keep it all in - it was overflowing. And when finally, the coil in her stomach threatening to snap, a low groan spilled from her lips, Joel turned to look at her. 

Ellie didn't want to think about what he saw, but whatever it was, it made his brow pinch in concern. She couldn't meet his worried eyes when he said, “You okay, kiddo? You don't look too good.” 

Your fingers hadn't even fucking slowed. You looked at her with a mask of concern, batting your eyes so innocently even as you pressed your fingers into her, curling them so you hit that spot that made her see stars. And then Ellie did grab you, gripping your shoulder in warning and glaring down at you. You wrinkled your nose, but relented and slid your fingers out of her; her grip tightened when you slid back over her clit. Fuck, she never should've invited you. 

Ellie cleared her throat; she couldn't look at either of you without feeling sick, so she turned her gaze to the movie. What was it even about? 

“Sorry, I just-” Her voice was strained, suffocating in her own throat. She felt like she was going to swallow her own tongue. The coil in her stomach tightened and she felt nauseous. She groaned again, and the words tripped over themselves in a rush when she said, “I don't feel good.” 

Ellie stumbled to her feet, forcing you to withdraw your hand; when she glanced down, she could see that your fingers were wet and it made her stomach twist. Keeping one hand over her stomach to hide the fact that her fucking pants were undone, she hurried from the room, ignoring Joel when he called after her. She couldn't look him in the eye or else she might actually puke.

Making a beeline for the bathroom, Ellie slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, the wood cold against her back. She took a deep breath, counting the cracks in the ceiling until her heart finally stopped bashing against her ribs, her throat burning. Pinprick tears stung her eyes as she fixed her pants, her fingers shaking so hard she could hardly grasp the button. 

Cursing under her breath, Ellie braced her hands on the bathroom sink, her shoulders sagging. Her eyes were rimmed red; she scrubbed her hands over her face roughly, willing her stomach to settle. 

She shouldn’t have been upset, really. The first time your hand had found its way into her pants, all those months ago, you had made it perfectly clear what this was. She could still hear your voice from that night, saccharine sweet and smelling like the whiskey you had nabbed from her cabinet: Come on, Els, Jackson’s so boring. We can just have a little fun, right? She remembered the weight of your body when you climbed onto her lap, your thighs warm on either side of her hips, your hands pressing her back against the couch. She could still feel the way your breath had ghosted over her neck, your voice dripping with honeyed desire: It's just a little fun.

Her own eyes looked so unfamiliar, a stranger peering at her from the bathroom mirror. 

Cursing again, she turned on the faucet, bending to splash water on her face - it was December and the water was so cold it numbed her hands. It was a welcome relief against her burning skin. 

Ellie felt so fucking dirty it hurt. No matter how she scrubbed at her skin, rubbing it raw, she couldn’t seem to rid herself of it. The cold water stung her cheeks. 

A knock on the door made her jump, cold water splashing down the front of her shirt. She cursed, pulling the damp fabric away from her chest with a grimace before calling, “Give me a minute, okay?” 

But you had never been very good at listening, had you? You didn’t even look surprised when you pushed the door open, ignoring her protest, and found Ellie leaning against the counter, water still dripping from her chin. If anything, you looked almost amused, quirking an eyebrow at her. It was the look you gave her every time you got her worked up, your eyes showing the laughter you bit back. She fucking hated that look. 

Ellie glared over her shoulder at you, but there was no real malice behind it - even when she hated you, something in her still softened when you were around. A switchblade girl with a cotton candy heart. 

You closed the door softly behind you, leaning back against it with a smug smile that she wanted to wipe off your face - she just wasn’t sure how she wanted to yet. Ellie could hear how your ego tinted your voice when you said, “Joel sent me to check on you. Probably thinks you're barfing your guts out or something.” 

Ellie rolled her eyes, looking away from you and mumbling, “Yeah, I guess dinner didn’t sit well….” 

You scoffed and the sound went straight to her stomach. She felt rather than saw you step behind her; she tensed when you placed your hands on her hips, leaning forward to put your chin on her shoulder. Her hands gripped the edges of the sink so hard she thought the porcelain might crack. She could feel the heat of your body all the way down her back, your hips pressing into her ass, and her traitorous heart fluttered embarrassingly. 

Ellie met your eyes in the reflection, watching as your smile grew into something almost mocking. You placed a kiss on the back of her neck, pressing your words into her skin: “Damn, Els, I didn’t know Dawn of the Wolf got you so hot and bothered.” Your fingers pressed into her hips, pulled her back against you. She failed to smother the sigh it pulled from her. She hated how it made your smile widen, and she hated even more how much she wanted to fucking kiss it off your stupid face. She shivered when she felt your teeth graze over her neck, and almost missed it when you muttered, laughing, “God, you’re so fucking easy, you know that?” 

Ellie shoved away from the counter, spinning on her heel and grabbing your wrist before you could flinch away. You had only blinked before she slammed you back against the wall, praying that Joel didn’t hear it. Her fingers wrapped so tightly around your wrist she could feel your pounding pulse, pressing it to the wall above your head. She slipped her thigh between your legs, pressing up into you, and she only had a moment to register that smug fucking grin before she slapped a hand over your mouth. She relished in the way your eyes flashed in something akin to fear. She had to find wins where she could, right? 

Leaning forward so her nose brushed yours, Ellie growled into the back of her hand, “Don’t make a fucking sound.” 

And she did get to wipe that cocky smile off your face. She kept her hand over your mouth, releasing your wrist to snake her arm between your legs. She muffled your moans, hissing when your nails dug into her biceps. 

Joel was in the next room, she thought distantly. Joel was in the next room, watching the movie he had been so excited to show her. He was in the next room, concerned about her, waiting for her, and here she was pressing her best friend into the wall of his bathroom. She had your pants around your ankles, two - three - fingers pushing into you. She could feel the vibrations of your moans against her hand - she wanted to press her lips to yours and swallow them, knowing you would never let her. 

It came too fast, Ellie pressing into you relentlessly if only to make you fucking shut up for once. Your body shuddered against her, and she wanted to hold you through it, but by the time it was over you were already pushing her away. When her hand fell from your mouth, you were smiling again. Maybe she was going to be sick after all. 

@filtered-sunlight

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Don't get possessed!

You'll end up like this...

Gassy air bubbled from deep inside my soft, pudgy stomach. The smell of semi-digested beer wafted into my nose as my lips flapped in the gust of a violent belch dragging itself out. God, this body was disgusting, but this is what I did to it; this is what I did to him...

I used his cellphone to snap a pic of the sweaty slab of meat I'd been wearing for the past three years. It was the disgraced body of a former jock. Jake's stomach rumbled like it always did when I filled it to the brim. Even after all this time, it still hasn't adapted to the crap I've constantly been stuffing it with.

Swallowing yet another beer, I toss the can into the corner of his dark living room, where it collided with discarded pizza boxes and half empty milk jugs. I'd let the entire apartment overflow with the garbage generated by this once-godly body, and there was a lot of it.

The place smelled like a dumpster in the sun.

You might think this is a disgusting way to live. Well, I did too. Everything about the situation was nasty; the damp basement apartment, the stacks of dirty dishes, the closet of unwashed clothes. The entire place had a permanent stench of body odor, and I know it followed this body around everywhere.

I had never in my life felt so absolutely disgusted by my surroundings.

But that was the exact fucking point.

To explain, we'll have to flash back to a few years ago. Let me show you a photo of Jake when I first possessed him. I took this right after jumping into his perfect body...

The athlete had just gotten back from the gym. It was another perfect workout for the perfect jock, and I could feel the grit and intensity swelling in every muscle. The college footballer would normally shower after any physical activity, but I was happy to crack open a beer and bask in his sweaty glory.

I don't know if you could tell, but I am not a fan of Jake.

He was a pretentious bully at my university, and he got away with anything. I tried my best to stay out of his way, but ultimately found myself staring into the headlights of his fancy Christmas present: a shiny black camaro. The asshole ended my life while driving back to campus after one of his famous parties!

I hate to be dramatic, but I was not ready to pass away, and I was not going to let an asshole like Jake get away with my murder. The police couldn't solve the crime any more than I could console my mourning family, so I took matters into my own ghostly hands.

Jake, beautiful Jake, didn't have a single iota of remorse. He continued to get belligerently drunk, and continued to shame and ridicule anyone shorter, weaker, or fatter than him, which was just about anyone. The worst part was people let him: they allowed it because he was the strongest, the most handsome, the prize quarterback with a winning smile!

I had to do something to stop the piece of trash lurking inside his god-like body.

So I possessed him. And I did this...

When I took over, it was like putting on a body suit. As a ghost, I was invisible, so I got right behind and slipped inside. First, I shoved a leg in, then an arm, and then the rest followed.

He struggled, flailing the few body parts he still had control over, but it was in vain!

My head was the last thing to get situated, but once I slid it into place, his yelling subsided. His thoughts evaporated, and I broke in his handsome face with a wicked smile. It felt different, grinning with someone else's mouth, but I was just glad to have a body again. His was definitely an upgrade compared to my old one. The height I stood at, the breadth of my shoulders, the weight of muscular pecs hanging off my chest; it all took some getting used to.

I enjoyed living inside the jock's body, but I was on a revenge mission. The first thing I wanted to screw up was his diet!

I started shoveling massive amounts of fast-food down his throat three times a day, packing on forty pounds in just a couple weeks. Obviously, I quit going to his football practice and even dropped out from his classes. I needed the time to bulk his body up.

His teammates and coaches all reached out, but I told them to get lost. He took everything from me, so I wanted to do the same to him...

This is a pic I took of Jake's body after almost a year of controlling him. I wanted him to look and smell as awful as possible in public, so I kept him as sweaty and hairy as I could. Despite my best efforts, his attractiveness was still shining through. If anything, he looked like a hot, hard-working bear on the way home from the job, and that was not what I wanted.

This made me realize that I could destroy more than just his looks.

In his body, I marched back to campus and begged the manager of the university gym for a job. A bunch of his old friends were there to see it, so I made sure to act as pathetic as possible in the six foot hunk, practically grovelling for any position. I even dropped to Jake's knees in front of the guy, giving a lot of the gym-goers second hand embarrassment.

Ultimately, the manager offered me a janitorial position if I would shut up. I accepted it gladly, kissing the guys shoes with Jake's lips like some kind of submissive idiot.

So even though Jake's body was still attractive with the extra weight and fur I'd given it, the dingey old uniform of a janitor made sure to mark him as the bottom of the food chain. I wore it like a badge of honor, even if I never washed the damn thing. Wearing a stained boilersuit labelled 'janitor' everywhere definitely told the world what Jake was worth!

By that point, people really only saw Jake as a walking mop, if they even looked his direction at all...

This last picture is one I took after about a year of working for the school. No one had spoken to me (Jake) in that entire time, unless they needed a toilet unclogged. The man had truly lost any respect people had for him.

The overalls hide the giant gut I'd managed to grow on his torso, but you can look at the top pic if you want to see how fat and hairy I ultimately got him. He looked nothing like the explosive athlete he'd been a couple years ago.

I took that photo right before I released Jake's to his body.

The jock probably wouldn't recognize himself. He'd wonder why he was suddenly so fat and hairy. He'd be terrified by the janitorial uniform on his back and even more horrified by the layers of dried sweat swamping his skin. It wouldn't be until he realized how much time had passed that he would fully understand the punishment I'd carved out for him. I wonder how he'll react when he finds out that he's spent the last three years scrubbing floors in the gym instead of working out in it.

I wonder if he'll clean himself up and learn a lesson? Or maybe he'll just accept his fate and give in to the habits I've made for his body. I don't know, and I don't care.

I'll be long gone by then.

Honestly, I have to admit that it's kind of fun living like this. Disgusting, sure, but there's something about reveling in the laziness, the degradation, the stink. I never allowed myself to be so laid back in life. Maybe, I learned something from this experience with Jake as well. I'm starting to think I'll find a new body to possess and live in. Someone I can take over and use for my own immediate pleasures.

Maybe you're the right candidate! You've got a nice body I could jump into. You won't mind if I hop in and drive for a few years, would you? You'll be disgusted by the state I leave you in, but hey it's not like it's my body I'm fucking up, right!

[chvoswxtch]

part one: the call

[series masterlist] | [part two]

pairing: billy russo x fem!reader

summary: a ghost from the past has returned.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of murder, creepy sleazy boss & brief mentions of sexual harassment, billy being the cocky lil shit he is

word count: 3.8k

a/n: ahhhhhhh! i've been working on this for the past few months & i'm so excited to finally put it out. I really really really hope y'all enjoy it. this is only 6 parts, so it will not be a slow burn. it's gonna get intense fast. also, there is an oc name mentioned, but it's just for the backstory of the plot. this is still a self insert, & y/n will be used for the rest of the story! without further ado, let's get this spooky slutty season started. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

This was a bad dream. It had to be. There was no other logical way to explain why you were currently sitting in an interrogation room at a precinct, being questioned by police about a man that you had gone on a blind date with not even twelve hours ago, who had been found stabbed to death in an alley two blocks away from your apartment building.

It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real. All you had to do was open your eyes, and this would all go away. You knew how to deal with nightmares. You knew how to escape them. You’d been running and hiding from them your whole life. All you had to do was open your eyes, and the sinister shadows wouldn't be able to sink their claws into your subconscious to trap you in the dark. Just open them, and this will all disappear. 

Just open your eyes.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

The detective’s voice swiftly brought you out of the trance of denial your mind had wandered into, and your eyes snapped open. To your dismay, nothing changed. The two detectives were still sitting across the table from you, the metal cold against your sweaty palms, one eying you warily while the other regarded you with a more sympathetic stare. The chair beneath you was still stiff and uncomfortable, the light above was still a harsh shade of artificial brightness, and the large piece of glass to your right that reflected your terrified expression still made you feel unsettled knowing there was someone watching you just on the other side of that two-way pane.

“I…I’m sorry. What was the question?”

The waver in your voice gave away how shaken you were by the whole ordeal. When the police had shown up at your office an hour ago stating they needed to bring you in for questioning regarding the murder of Adam Mercer, shock had instantly shot through your entire nervous system, chilling the very blood in your veins with an icy sense of dread. 

This was the kind of thing you heard about happening in the news. A tragedy that struck someone else’s life. A nameless, faceless person whose existence you were unaware of. It was the kind of thing nobody ever thought could happen to them, until it did.

The older detective, the more commiserating one, had said they thought it was some kind of mugging gone wrong. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in New York City, unfortunately. The dazzling city was also dangerous. But since you were the last person to see Adam alive, they needed as much information as you could give them about the last few hours of his life. For some odd reason, it filled you with a sense of guilt that his final moments had been spent with you, a complete stranger, instead of someone else. 

Adam had been a really nice guy. He’d seemed to enjoy the date. He’d thrown his head back and laughed like a little kid at a stupid joke you’d told. He’d flashed you a charming smile when you’d nearly knocked your glass of wine over into your pasta. He’d animatedly told you about his family’s tradition of selecting a perfect tree together at a local Christmas farm back in his home state of Jersey every holiday season. He’d been sweet and gentle and respectful. But had he been happy? 

Had he succumbed to the inevitable fate of death at his attacker’s hands without a fight? Did he even see it coming? Had he had that moment, where everything flashed before his eyes, all his mistakes, all his regrets, all the would’ve, could’ve, should'ves? 

You knew what that feeling was like. You’d been there, once before. Nothing makes you want to live more than Death deciding to show up at your door and pick the lock with its cold, bony fingers to collect a bounty early. 

Thirteen times. Adam had been brutally stabbed thirteen times. It was excessive for a mugging. It felt more personal, that kind of anger and passion. As morbid as the thought was, you hoped the first one had killed him. You hoped he that went into shock swiftly and bled out just as fast so he hadn’t suffered through the next twelve.

Holding his pen in his right hand, the tip hovering over his worn yellow pocket sized notepad, Detective Craven repeated his question.

“How well did you know Adam?”

“I…I didn’t. I’d never met him until last night. My roommate um…she knew him. She’s the one who set us up.”

“Your roommate being Miss Riley?”

Detective Williamson had his hands clasped together in front of him on the table. He lifted one of his brows while waiting for you to answer his question. Swallowing thickly, you gave a faint nod of your head and dropped your hands to your lap, fidgeting with them under the table anxiously. 

“Yeah, Annie.”

Detective Craven cleared his throat, reading over his notes with his honey brown eyes as he continued his questioning.

“Now, you said he picked you up at your apartment around eight-thirty, the two of you had dinner at Maureen’s, and then he dropped you back off at your place around eleven. He left right after that?”

“Yeah, he…um…we said goodnight, he said he’d like to see me again, and then he told me he’d call me tomorrow.”

“He didn’t come up to your apartment at all?”

Detective Williamson didn’t bother hiding the skepticism in his voice, or the implication behind his words, his icy blue eyes locked on you in an almost unsettling way.

“No, he dropped me off at the front steps of the building.”

“And you didn’t see where he went when he left? Didn’t give him one last look after a goodnight kiss?”

A flash of annoyance broke through your stunned disbelief at the invasive second question. You hadn’t said anything about a kiss. The younger detective seemed to be fishing for a crack in your alibi for some reason, trying to catch you in a lie that didn’t exist. A flicker of defensiveness crept into your voice when you spoke.

“No, after we said goodnight, I went inside.”

Before Detective Williamson could ask another thinly veiled judgmental question, Detective Craven stood up, shooting his partner a silencing look. Glancing down at you with a warmer expression, the older man gestured towards the door with his hand.

“That’s all the questions we have for now. We appreciate you speaking with us. I’ll walk you out.”

The precinct was bustling. Various murmurs of conversation buzzed in your ears. People were breezing past in every direction, but amidst the sea of chaos, you spotted a familiar head of blonde hair. Annie jumped up from the chair she’d been sitting in and forced her way through the waves of people, not once muttering an “excuse me” or waiting for someone to move out of her way. A true New Yorker.

Detective Craven placed his hand on your shoulder to get your attention and held out a white business card that had all of his information on it in embossed black text.

“If you can think of anything else that might be helpful, don’t hesitate to call.”

Taking the card into your hand, you looked up at him and forced a tight smile onto your lips, giving him a faint nod of your head.

“Of course.”

After giving your shoulder a light squeeze, Detective Craven gave Annie a nod of acknowledgement before turning and disappearing back inside the interrogation room. As soon as you turned to face her, Annie’s face contorted into an expression of pity and concern. She immediately pulled you into a hug, and it took everything in you not to crumble under the weight of your own overwhelming emotions.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

»»———　　———««

Annie had swiftly shot down your plan to go back to work before the words could even fully leave your lips. All you wanted to do was dive head first into a distraction, to immerse yourself fully in the piles of paper and black ink sitting on your desk that were waiting to transport you to another universe and into the body of someone else whose world hadn’t just been flipped upside down. Again. 

Instead, she brought you back to your shared apartment, uncorked a bottle of wine for each of you, and did her best to help you sort through the shock and the ripples it caused within you. She didn’t understand that your instinct was to run and hide, and that was because she didn’t understand you, not really. But that wasn’t her fault. She could only understand what you allowed her to, and there were huge pieces of yourself you kept hidden from her and everyone else beneath carefully crafted layers.

Pieces you were not ready to uncover and face yet.

The following morning when you showed up to work at the publishing house, it felt like everyone was looking through you instead of at you. Everyone had heard what happened, had seen the two detectives escorting you out of your office, but none of your coworkers said a word. Not to your face, anyway. You could feel the weight of their lingering stares, their hushed whispers floating past your ear like a cold autumn breeze. It was a familiar territory you’d already escaped once.

To your relief, you hadn’t been harassed by reporters wanting an exclusive on the story. Unfortunately, crimes like what had happened to Adam were a dime a dozen in this city. You felt guilty for feeling grateful for that, but not having cameras shoved in your face to be broadcast on news outlets that circulated on social media worked in your favor. You had come to the city that millions of people called home for a reason. You came here to disappear, to be invisible. The last thing you needed was to be thrust into a spotlight that would attract attention you’d gone to great lengths to avoid.

In the midst of trying to drown out the white noise of suspicious gossip and ignoring the way the stares penetrating the glass windows of your office made your insides twist in dreaded knots, you almost missed the sound of a knock at your door. Lifting your head, you were met with the sight of the last person you ever expected to see standing in the doorway.

Billy Russo.

He was significantly more dressed up than the last time you’d seen him, looking every bit the illustrious CEO, although that signature arrogant smirk of his seemed to be missing for once. His tall frame was covered in a deep navy blue three piece suit with a crisp white dress shirt beneath the matching tie, a dark charcoal gray thick coat layering over top. His raven hair was gelled back perfectly, just like it was that night at the bar, but the gleam of mischief in his dark brown eyes was absent. As he stood in the doorway of your office, nearly taking up the entire frame, he seemed to be looking at you in an expression of something that resembled concern.

“Billy.”

The surprise in your hushed tone rang clear in the quiet of your office. Billy removed the black leather gloves from his hands, slipping them into the pocket of his overcoat.

“This a bad time?”

Your lips parted slightly as your eyes flickered down to the open manuscript on your desk before looking up at him again.

“Um…no. No…I…what are you doing here?”

Billy took a step forward into your office and quietly closed the door behind himself.

“Just came by to check on ya.”

“Check on me?”

“Derek told me what happened.”

Billy kept his eyes locked on you as he explained the reasoning behind his unexpected visit, watching you closely.

Derek Becker was a friend of Billy’s. They had served in the military together, and he now worked for Billy’s private security company, Anvil. Derek also happened to be Annie’s boyfriend. A few months back, the two of them had tried to set you and Billy up. The four of you had gone out to a bar for drinks, but instead of hitting it off with Billy, you’d found him narcissistic, and you’d had no interest in pursuing anything romantic with him. Although, based on how he had interacted with you that night, it had seemed like he hadn’t been looking for anything romantic either, just a night of physical release.

Because Annie was your best friend and roommate, and Derek was often around, you’d seen Billy a few times since then, but it wasn’t like the two of you were friends. Needless to say, the fact that he’d made the trip to your office to check on your mental wellbeing was a bit of a shock.

“I’m fine.”

Billy arched one of his dark brows, and the ghost of a smile graced the edge of his lips.

“You almost sounded like you meant that.”

You opened your mouth to fire back a retort, to protest the underlying accusation in his words, but your defense got stuck in your throat. Seeing the look on your face, Billy’s faint amusement quickly disappeared, and he let out a deep exhale through his nose as he took a few steps closer towards your desk.

“I’m sorry, I’m not here to be a dick. But it’s alright if you’re not fine. Normal people wouldn’t be fine in this situation.”

“Normal people?”

Billy stared down at you for a moment silently before turning his head to look out the glass window of your office, rubbing his large palm over his mouth and perfectly trimmed beard. Looking down at you again, a flicker of amusement was back in his gaze, and there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“I got a real good habit of sayin’ the wrong thing with you, huh?”

The self deprecation you detected in his smooth voice surprised you. You’d never heard him say anything that didn’t have an undertone of superiority or didn’t sound prideful. The guy standing in front of you wasn’t acting like the cocky rich playboy you were used to, and it made you wonder for a second if that’s what it really was; an act. A flicker of newfound curiosity had you wondering if Billy’s persona was as carefully crafted as your own.

“I don’t know if I’d call that a good habit.”

Billy let out a puff of air past his lips, giving a faint shake of his head in faux disapproval.

“Kickin’ a man while he’s down? That’s ruthless, sweetheart.”

“I think your ego can survive being knocked down a few pegs.”

Billy let out a deep chuckle at that, and his lips spread into a wolfish grin.

“Between you and me, it’s a bit more fragile than you think.”

You looked at him in faux shock, an overly dramatic gasp leaving your lips.

“What? You mean the ego you overcompensate for with designer clothes and fancy cars is delicate?”

Billy rolled his eyes and held his hand up in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright, alright. I get it. You’ve kept me humble enough for one day.”

To your surprise, and to Billy’s, you smiled. It was small, but it was real and genuine. Billy’s impromptu visit was the last thing you expected to provide a lighthearted distraction to the whirlwind of chaos that had been plaguing you since yesterday. 

As much as you hadn’t been able to stand him the night you met him, you couldn’t deny that the banter between you came effortlessly. Within the first five minutes of meeting him, you’d called him a ‘self obsessed dumbass’, and instead of getting offended, he’d smiled. It had quickly launched into a battle of wits, who could come up with the more clever retort faster, and it only took half an hour for Derek and Annie to become exhausted, realizing they’d made a huge mistake and miscalculated their match making skills. Billy seemed to enjoy antagonizing you, and you couldn’t resist putting a man like him in his place.

Everytime the two of you were around each other, it was exactly the same. Just an endless cycle of unrequited flirting and unrestrained snark.

“Humble is not exactly a word I’d use to describe you, Russo.”

Before Billy could respond, your office door suddenly opened and your boss walked in, glancing between you and Billy in a mixture of curiosity and barely concealed displeasure. He seemed to size him up before turning his attention towards you, not so subtly letting his eyes roam over your figure sitting behind your desk in a way that made your skin crawl, which wasn’t missed by Billy. John gestured his head in Billy’s direction.

“Another detective?”

There was clear annoyance in John’s voice that didn’t go unnoticed by you. It wasn’t lost on Billy either, and his posture seemed to go rigid.

“No. No, um…friend.”

Friend. Using that word to describe Billy tasted foreign on your tongue, but Billy didn’t appear to react to it. His dark brown eyes sized John up in a similar fashion as your boss had done to him, only Billy didn’t even attempt to hide his judgment and lack of impression.

“You know, most people knock before just walkin’ in.”

Both yours and John’s heads turned towards Billy. You were momentarily stunned by the way Billy had so casually called out John’s abrupt intrusion, and John looked visibly irritated, but he turned to face Billy with a forced smile on his mouth.

“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m John Altieri. I own this publishing house.”

Unlike John, Billy didn’t plaster a fake smile on his face for politeness, or speak in a faux friendly tone. Maintaining eye contact, he reached out to grasp John’s outstretched hand with more firmness than necessary as he shook it.

“Billy Russo. I own the building.”

That bombshell had you sitting up straighter in your chair and blinking a few times in surprise. Billy owned the building? Since when? That was definitely news to you.

The smile on John’s face faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered and nodded, trying to appear unphased by that revelation.

“Pleasure. If you don’t mind, I have some important things to discuss with Y/N/N. In private.”

Billy outwardly looked calm and collected, but you swore you saw a flicker of anger in his dark brown eyes. He didn’t seem to like hearing your boss refer to you with a nickname that was spoken with too saccharine of a tone for a superior to speak about their employee. Not that you liked it either. John seemed to always maintain a balance on that tightrope of not being inappropriate enough to report him to HR, but being too friendly for you to not feel uncomfortable. 

The bastard was clever, you’d give him that. He knew what he was doing. He was careful and cautious enough that it couldn’t be classified as textbook harassment, and could be argued as a simple misunderstanding. It made you want to stab him with your pen every time you caught him staring at your chest or your legs.

After letting a purposeful uncomfortable moment of silence pass, Billy looked down at John, that signature smirk you were used to seeing on his lips spreading slowly like a sun rising over the skyline.

“Of course.”

Turning his head to look at you again, Billy gave you a faint nod of his head and a wink.

“See ya later, sweetheart.”

Giving John one last final unimpressed and cold side eye, Billy pulled his leather gloves out of his overcoat pocket and turned to leave your office with a confident stride, leaving you and John alone in your office, and your mind swirling with a flurry of questions about Billy Russo.

»»———　　———««

By the time you walked through the front door of yours and Annie’s shared apartment, all you wanted was a hot shower and a few hours of sleep. You’d spent last night tossing and turning, haunted by the nightmare your life had once again turned into, and you felt the exhaustion in every cell of your body. Tossing your keys into the little green bowl on the side table by the front door, your footsteps were slow and sluggish as you headed down the hall on the left towards your bedroom.

Dropping your purse onto your bed, you sat down on the edge of it and slipped off your shoes, letting them drop on the hardwood floor with a soft thud. Letting out a deep exhale, you closed your eyes and hunched over, covering your face with both of your hands. The muffled noise of your ringtone began to sound from your purse. Dragging your palms down your face, you slipped one of your hands into your purse to dig for your phone blindly, absentmindedly hitting the answer button and bringing it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello Y/N.”

The voice that sounded on the other end of the line wasn’t one you recognized. Pulling your phone away from your ear, you looked down at the lit screen and read “unknown caller”. A furrow creased between your brows as you brought your phone back up to your ear, running one of your hands through the roots of your hair to push it back.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“I guess your new boyfriend didn’t make the cut.”

Immediately your hand froze, and your eyes widened. A mix of confusion, disbelief, and anger coursed through you, but the latter won out.

“Excuse me?”

Your tone quickly shifted from one of puzzlement to pure fury as you sat up straighter. A sinister chuckle from the deep mysterious voice on the other end of the line further incensed you.

“Did you really think I’d let anyone else have you, Cassia?”

The phone slipped out of your hand, dropping to the floor below with a harsh sound that didn’t even register in your ears. A pit of dread opened up in your stomach, and fear trickled down your spine as if someone had started to trace the frozen sharp tip of an icicle along the back of your neck. Panic spread through your nervous system like a lit match to a dehydrated forest, and the four walls of your bedroom began to close in around you, squeezing the last breath of oxygen from your lungs.

No one in New York knew that name. 

You’d left it back in California, along with your past. The past that had forced you to run to the other side of the country and bury every trace of who you were before. The past that you tried so hard to forget and cover up with a new identity and a new life. The past that was taunting you from the other end of the line.

The past that had come back, and murdered Adam.

He’d found you.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @ferns-fics @danzer8705 @to-thelakes @simonsgirl @sweetserendipity65 @zomtart @day-dreaming-goddess @caroblogsthings @thomasshelbyswife @snowkestrel @hallowedtangerine @ameliaswife @dreadfulxives18 @ebsmind @lllla717 @slumnit

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[arjudy224]

Visiting an old friend

Ghosts from her past chased her away from Gotham. Now, that she's back at home some things are trying to bubble to the surface.

Prequel: Death of a family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

After the 36th topographic map of the day, my eyes begin to glaze over. Why do we still have physical maps from the 1800s? I swear if Gordan accidentally dropped a cigarette all of GCPD would burst into flames.

Interrupting my theory, a group of voices calls me over to Gordan's desk. The colorful group of characters causes me to raise an eyebrow. Whatever it is, it must be serious if the batfamily is involved.

"You knew that missing Wayne boy, didn't you?"

I nod at Gotham's gang of vigilantes. Nightwing winks at me. I flash him a smile.

"Which one? From what I've heard, Mr. Wayne adopts a new orphan every other day." I remark in a smug tone of voice. Nightwing lets out a light laugh.

"Jason."

The years of learning to cope with this grief disappear. All of a sudden, I am 15 again wondering if the boy I liked would talk to me at school. I should have known he would come up eventually. My smile drops.

"Briefly... We went to school together." I elaborate carefully weighing out the correct reply.

"How would you describe the word "brief," Ms. L/N?" Detective Montoya asks sliding a few photos in my direction.

The photo on top was the last Christmas before he went "missing".

We had spent the entire day working on a book report when Alfred announced that he was making x-mas cookies. Stumbling to our feet, Jay's older brother, Dick, waited impatiently with a bag of flower. The two brothers had bickered over their gingerbread house stability until I lightly threw a tuff of flower at Dick. Before I knew it, Jason held my arms to my sides while Dick emptied a bag of flower on my head. Alfred had captured the photo as I put Jason in a headlock. All three of us beamed at the camera. My hair smelled like flower for weeks afterword, but it was worth it.

The next photo was my birthday. Jason and I had taken a road trip to Metropolis to see my family. The camera caught the blush on my cheeks as he kissed my forehead. The candles were still lit.

The piles of photos make me dizzy. Fall break. Our first winter. Mixed in the photos are handwritten notes.

Got a surprise for you this evening. Wear something nice ;)

-J

Meet me at the top of Wayne Tower

-J

A wave of emotions floods my senses. I lost all of that in the move to Metropolis. Staring directly at the reclaimed memorabilia, I frown. Maybe it was stolen all along.

"Why do you ask Detective?" I ask analyzing the box.

"An anonymous source sent these a few days ago."

"Does this look familiar?" He questions dangling a rusted Robin pendant. A dried splotch of blood covered the typical silver exterior.

I stop breathing. That's not possible... It was in the casket. Taking the necklace in my hands, I gently pry the mechanisms open to reveal a familiar engraving: Next time you fly away, Don't forget about me at home. I love you, Robin.

"Where did you get that?" I whisper breathlessly.

The blood slowly drains from my face. The room starts moving. Years of pent of sorrow slam against the dam of my mind.

"Uhhh.. I told you it was..."

"No." I snap suddenly addressing the whole group, "Leave me out of this. Do not make me relive his death."

Turning on my heel, Nightwing stops me from leaving.

"I'm sorry Y/N. I know this must be painful for you, but...."

"But what?" I demand, "That is not my life anymore."

Batman finally speaks up.

"Because someone left these on your desk"

The room goes silent. What?

I frown.

"Who?"

"We don't know yet. We wanted you to be aware. The past always finds a way back to us."

Batman's compassionate gaze fuels my rage. I don't want his empathy.

Finding a crowbar was the easy part. It was tracking down the Clown Prince of Crime that proved to be the challenge. Nightwing was already ten steps ahead due to his bat training. By the time I had stumbled into his operation, it was far too late for either one of us to back out.

The Joker's pale skin contrasts the blood dripping from his forehead beautifully. With each slam of the crowbar, I imagine I'm avenging him. What does Batman always say? Justice. Well, this is justice. The blood splatter clouds my vision, but I can't shake the feeling that I'm feeding into whatever plan he has. The wheezing laughter after every bludgeon causes goosebumps to form across my skin.

"Nightwing, you want to be a part of this?" I call out extending the bloody crowbar.

There is no response. I pause. Where the hell is he?

After one last kick, I search the hallways for the chatty superhero.

Right. Left. Right. Left. The winding hallways are a maze.

"Y/N!" Nightwing chokes out when I walk in.

Sprinting to the man, I examine his restraints. These are precise. Whoever did this must have been incredibly skilled... There is a sharp crack against my skull. Shooting pain erupts from the spot. I black out before I can register what happened.

Batman had found both of us bound and beaten a few days later. The Joker left us alive as a joke. The brand on my forearm tingles from the memory. Joker always thought it was funny to leave me alive with the physical reminder branded on my skin that I had ... failed.

Is this some kind of sick joke?

Glancing at the clock, I relish the end of my shift.

"Keep me updated on any developments." I say, "I've got something I need to do."

"And what's that?" Nightwing calls out.

Grabbing my purse, I pause before replying.

"Visit an old friend."

The full moon illuminates my path, but I could find my way even in complete darkness. It used to be second nature. Follow the main road. Sneak past the main gate that we used to climb over. Avoid the cameras. No need for Bruce to get paranoid. The lonely gravestone stares blankly at me. After all these years, the tears still come.

“Hey Jay,” I say with a pained smile, “It’s been a while.”

The familiar suffocation knocks me off my feet. I sit cross-legged at the base of the grave. The years of weathering have chipped away at the integrity of the stone, yet it stands tall. Vines have grown around the other graves in the area. Something tells me that a certain Butler may be why his grave is intact. A cluster of fallen leaves blanket his plot of land.

“I hate to say it Jay, but you look like shit,” I murmur dusting a few fallen leaves away from the plot. "I leave you for two years and all of a sudden you let yourself go. What would Alfred think?”

Running my fingers through the thick patches of grass, I ramble about the last couple years.

"I owe you 20 bucks." I start, "Nygma is terrible at poker."

The Iceberg Lounge hosts a variety of sins, but Eddie Nygma lost most of his blackmail money during a particularly bad game. For such an intelligent man, one would think he would be able to tame his boasts for the sake of the game. He couldn't.

A shadowy figure snaps a twig behind me. Turning my head, a familiar butler greets me with a smile.

“Ms. L/N, Welcome home.”

Alfred stands tall at my side. The last couple of years have deepened the already present lines on his face. However, his smile lines show proof of his last few years of joy.

“Hey Alfie, did you miss me?” I question climbing to my feet.

“Of course,” he responds,” I had nobody left to eat my cookies.”

I laugh at that before hugging the older gentleman. Dick could eat a platter of baked goods within seconds, but I appreciate the thought.

"Right," I begin, "Because you wouldn't be able to find anybody to eat your cookies...."

"None as entertaining as you Ms. L/N."

I beam up at the man. Always so charming.

"I'll take it as a compliment."

The older man wraps his jacket around himself tight. A frigid breeze shakes the trees.

“Why don’t you stop by for some tea? It’s chilly out here alone.”

I smile wistfully glancing back to the manor.

“I’d love to…. Another time. I’ve got a crazy load at work right now."

"Well Ms. L/N, you are always welcome. You know that."

I frown rolling a piece of grass in between my fingers.

"Besides," Alfred continues, "I get awfully lonely without my inside reporter of the Gotham social scene. "

Rolling my eyes, my smile reappears.

"You are such a gossip." I retort with a playful slap.

"Every day, I deal with costumed vigilantes who want to fight corruption in this city. I deserve to have a moment of petty gossip. Especially with one of my favorite girls."

__________________________________________________________

On a nearby roof, a shadow peers through the darkness. Maybe it was cruel of Jason to lead a trail back to his death. Nothing about the situation they were in seemed fair. But... Jason saw the way Dick looked at her when she first got back to Gotham. The word cruel doesn't explain how horrific it was to come back and find that everybody you loved replaced you. After years of working to make a name for himself, none of it mattered. Even in death, he didn't matter.

Tag list:

@nosyrobin, @jjsmeowthie,@soltik, luna-zendra-star,

[spideyni-ki]

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS || Kim Sunoo, Yang Jungwon

pairing: kim sunoo x fem!reader, yang jungwon x fem!reader

about; Although it might seem like a sweet innocent friendship to outsiders, you and your dear friends know the total opposite is true; behind closed doors, the dynamics reveal a complex tapestry of shared secrets...

wc: 3.2k

warnings: smut, 18+, threesome, unprotected sex, fingering, bodily fluids (cum), oral f!receiving, oral m!receiving, slight degradation,

[ if this seems familiar to you it's because it's a re-upload, this will be my enha only blog]

Winter had taken its full course, covering the grounds white turning outside into a magical scene. Snowflakes landed softly on the roof inside your apartment where christmas music sounded from the speaker. Everyone moved around the place hitting a few notes here and there. The air was filled with a crisp delicious scent of cookies. The holiday cheer filled the apartment to its brim. Sunoo playfully protested as the youngest sibling scooped a taste from the mixing bowl before gently pushing him aside. Meanwhile, Jungwon and you were engrossed in sneaking freshly baked cookies, only to be caught red-handed by Jay, who promptly ushered you both out of the kitchen. Jungwon, in a playful surrender, left with a mischievous tune, teasing Jay further. "Want to head up to my room?" he whispered to you. You knew the implication and followed, giggling, as you ascended the stairs.

Scarcely inside his room, your lips met eagerly. Pressed against the door your hand travelled south, slipping inside of his sweatpants grabbing him. The action caused moans to escape the latter.

“No more than fifteen minutes, they are going to interrupt” Jungwon muttered against your lips before another moan left his lips when your hands moved stealthily on his hard on. “Would that be a problem?”you teased him. His gaze locked onto yours, a profound darkness swirling within the depths of his eyes. Your breath hitched as his grip strengthened on your hips, pulling you abruptly closer. Your lips found one another again, this time tangled in a more passionate

but still eager need. His soft lips felt like the first snow, entangling you in an unexplainable euphoria. Your surroundings were slowly fading away as you were entranced by the movement of his pillow like lips on yours. He's got you right where he needs, wrapped around his finger. His pulse raced in your presence, longing for your touch. It was a desperate kiss between you two. The sneaking around the past days puts you in a rush of adrenalin. Though Jungwon wasn't the only one you were fooling around with. Sunoo and him had a close relationship that allowed them to pass you between them. Your more friendly attitude and clinginess towards the two didn't go unnoticed. Your friends called it “favouritism” and you were just glad they didn't catch on to the rendezvous that was happening behind their backs.

A visibly wet patch was starting to form on the front of Jungwon’s sweatpants. The more heated it got the more leaked from him. You decided to take him out of its confinement without breaking the kiss. Filthy wet noises filled into the void as you used the sticky substance as lube. Jungwon broke off the kiss, inhaling sharply. His head hung low in the crock of your neck and began pressing small kisses on your supple soft skin. His fingers traced your soft skin, leaving traces of warmth that lingered like whispered promises in the air. The sweet vanilla scent he was familiar with filled his nostrils as he ghosted his lips now over yours mewling, “need to be inside you…please."

“Not now baby, just let me make you feel good.”

Jungwon enveloped you in another heated kiss, holding himself back from crying out loud when you took on a faster pace. He pulsed in your hand and you knew he was near his high. Jungwon desperately bucked his hips practically now using your hand as his very own fleshlight. “s‘close…” he sobbed against your lips. In the hushed stillness, a tightening grip enveloped his throat, as the air took on a weighty resonance, each breath a measured echo. Anticipation hung thick as he felt it coming. But too soon for his liking. Wanting the moment to linger a bit longer he grabbed your hand from his cock, pressing his lips forcefully on yours. You returned the kiss with the same passion letting your tongues come into play. “my turn”he whispered when he disconnected your lips, grabbing your wrists as he pressed your hands above you, pressing them against the door. A cry left your lips as he attacked your neck, mustering it with hues of purple & blues.

…

“Sunno, go them upstairs, I need help cleaning up.” Jay said, drying his hands on the apron hugged around his front. He took a look at the timer before getting back to the sink. The kitchen looked like a mess,  stained in flour, droplets of spilled milk and sprinkles in all kinds of different forms and colours all over the counter and the floor. It was like children had their fun baking cookies here. Sunghoon tended to a cookie, precisely decorating it with red food colouring. Jake was on the next batch with Ni-ki fighting over the forms,

“We have enough reindeers, what are you making another one for?” 

Heeseung took a broom and started cleaning up the floor from its messy contents created by the small flour fight they had earlier. “Shouldn't have done that…”,he grumbled under his breath as the floor was left with a white blanket of flour. As Sunoo approached the room where his friends resided he couldn't help but overhear the muffled suspicious sounds coming from it. 

“Jungwon-ah, y/nie stop hiding from cleaning up!”

Jungwon halted his actions, instructing you to not make noise. You gave him a confused glare but soon were in a battle with yourself as he began to insert himself. With a hand pressed on your mouth he began to move at a frantic pace. Nothing would stop him from getting what he wanted even if it meant he would be getting caught at the act. Sunoos' worrisome expression faded when he clocked what was happening behind the door. The doorknob rattled behind you for a few seconds before it fully stopped, only then you were allowed to take a breath as Jungwon released his hand. His strokes slowed down but deepend, leaving you to gasp for air once again. His hands roamed your body grabbing at your skin. Sunoo at the other side of the door thought for a minute before proceeding. The door handle rattled against your lower back as the cold metall grazed your skin. 

….

The room embraced a subtle darkness upon your return, accompanied by the silent shadows of Jungwon and Sunoo, both donning a facade of nonchalance. As your footsteps resonated down the staircase, a hushed acknowledgment rippled through the room, heads turning in unison. 

"There's still some left if you guys want," Jake gestured towards the container brimming with baked treats atop the coffee table. Sunoo positioned himself directly in front of it, pulling you along. Jungwon chose to recline, flopping onto Jay on the couch, who escaped a grunt of pain at the sudden weight on him.

As your head gently rests on Sunoo's shoulder, enveloped by the warmth of his presence, he tenderly drapes a blanket over your shoulders. 

The movie isn't even in Sunoos best interests as he had kind of his own playing inside his head - an inappropriate one involving you. The blood is already flowing to his dick making it even harder for him. A quick look around behind him where the rest was seated gives him the green flag to go for it. Half of them were asleep and the other rest was going to fall asleep. 

Without hesitation he takes your hand in his, guiding it on top of his hard on. You glance at him - panic written all over your face, fearing you would be caught. Sunoo reassures you and you don't wait a minute to push your hand inside his pants palming his bulge pressing against his underwear. 

“I'm gonna go sleep, s’fucking tired.” Jay's voice made you still in your actions. Your hand slips out of Sunoos pants , directing him to the couch where Jay left now an empty spot next to Jungwon. 

As time went on everyone but you, Sunoo and Jungwon fell asleep allowing it all to be easier. 

You shuddered at Sunoos cold fingers grazing on your inner thigh. His fingers disappear under your skirt,  way too close to your center. A smirk paints his face letting the fun unravel right in the same room as his friends. In the meantime Jungwon is busy decorating any millimetre of your neck in hickeys knowing you were strict about those. But you were too drunk in lust & need to stop any of it. “Spread those legs, little one.”

You do as told from him as his fingers begin to travel, teasing you by going close than distancing. Sunoo has fun while you're whining in protest, striking your hips forward. He finally gives in eliciting a loud moan out of you when he pinches your clit. Jungwon catches your lips before you give a tone out of yourself again, shutting you up for a while. His mouth is hot against you, teeth clashing as it gets messier. 

“Jungwon, look how wet she is…”

Jungwon detached from you but not without a whine from you too lean down to see your glistening cunt. He barely can't take his eyes off it, letting his head fall in the crock of your neck with a view on it. 

“you’re practically soaking, is it me baby? or is it him?” 

Sunoo snickered at Jungwon’s words, rubbing his finger against your clit before sinking two inside without warning. Your head falls back giving Jungwon more space to spread his kisses. Your body tingled with goosebumps as you absorbed every sensation, overwhelmed by the euphoria coursing through you. And when Jungwon decided to shove his finger up there with Sunoos it was all so intense, you could hardly contain it.

Both moved in different paces till finding a rhythm to stick with. You clenched your teeth, biting down firmly on your lower lip, determined to stifle any sound. But soon enough a moan escaped. 

Jungwons finger slipped out of you, covered in your juices. Without warning he shoved it between your plump lips restricting any upcoming sounds. You hummed around it as you could taste yourself. Sunoo could feel your walls around his fingers suck him in when he quickened his pace, plunging deep into you with no plan to stop any time soon.

“are you gonna cum, princess?” He taunted, demeanor completely different from the cheery bubbly guy he usually was. His gaze is dark, burning into your skin as he watches every inch of your being succumb to him. His sadistic self is already imagining how to get this game going till you end up with tears streaming down your rosy cheeks. 

You felt him going even faster - which you almost felt was impossible with the way he was going at it. Jungwon grunted when you suck his finger harder, even accidentally biting on it. You feel your orgasm approach, a knot in your stomach building up. 

“Let go babygirl.” 

And with those words you let yourself completely go, jaw falling slack as you drench the cushion under you. Sunoos fingers slip out of you from the force, coated in your release. He can't help but lick those up himself, moaning at the taste of your sweetness on his tongue.

Exhaustion took over all three of you and soon you were snoozing it up with the others.

The skiing trip a week ago is what started this dynamic between you three…

“Oh what the hell.” You muttered into the sudden dimly lit room. Your hand goes to your back pocket, taking out your phone to see what was going on. No signal. This couldn't have come at a better time. You clutch your cardigan closer, stepping cautiously into the hallway. A sudden collision with someone sends you both into a shrieking frenzy. "Who's there?" you gasp, your voice quivering with fear as you try to discern the figure in the darkness.

Light shines upon the familiar face in front of you and you sigh in relief. It was none other than Kim Sunoo.

“Sunghoon called, they're stuck in the middle of nowhere, it's a snow blizzard.” He informs you. 

“Alright then. We should look for candles?”

Together, you ventured down the hall to the storage room in search of candles. Jungwon barely made it in time, arriving safely but heavily coated in snow. You fetched beverages for everyone, handing a steaming mug of hot chocolate to the shivering boy who stood by the fireplace, desperately trying to thaw his frozen hands.

Sunoo fetched blankets, draping one around Jungwon, who expressed gratitude. The crackling fire cast a tranquil glow reminiscent of sunset hues across the room. Sunoo, engrossed in a downloaded drama on his laptop, settled at the end of the couch, tuning out with headphones. You nestled beside Jungwon, resting your head on his broad shoulder, engaging in quiet conversation as your hand gently stroked his back. Amidst the serene ambiance of the crackling fire, your worries eased, though you remained concerned about updates from the rest of the group, exchanging texts back and forth.

“Are you still cold?” You asked the boy next to you who only nod, letting his head fall on yours.

“I need to warm up…” He mumbles. 

He thinks for a second before proceeding, “i have an idea how to…if you trust me.”

Jungwon tilted his head to get a clearer view of your reaction, his lips pursed as he awaited your response to proceed with his plan. It was only then that you noticed how close you were, your faces just inches apart. You could already feel the heat rising in your skin, radiating toward him due to the proximity.

His gaze flickered to your lips for a split second before meeting your eyes again, a small, almost imperceptible smirk forming on his face. The room seemed to grow quieter, the air thick with anticipation. You swallowed hard, your mind racing to process the intensity of the moment.

"Well?" Jungwon's voice was soft but insistent, pulling you back to the present. You could feel your pulse quickening, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling within you. The urge to close the gap between you two was almost overwhelming.You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. 

"I... I'm not sure," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whispery, nervously turning to the other side of the room where Sunoo is, still submerged in the drama he is watching. His expression softened, a hint of amusement in his eyes when he notices the change in the atmosphere, eyes swiftly looking at you.

"Don't worry about him," Jungwon says. "He won't mind, and neither will you, right?"

You swallow hard, a lump forming in your throat as you assess the situation. Oddly, a thrill of excitement runs through you at the thought of whatever might happen between you, sceneries already flashing in your head.

It seems like you all are on the same page - so why not?

You give Jungwon green light to go which he doesn't complitate for long. Excitement bubbles in him as your lips hover over one another, brushing against. How many times he imagined this moment, being able to feel your lips on him. Your lips meet in a slow, experimental kiss, moving sensual against each other. 

Jungwon moves his hand to your cheek, grip festering as he deepens the kiss. From the corner of his eyes Sunoo is able to see the process and decides better now to join in, opting to sit beside you. His touch on your shoulder delicate in order not to scare you. He moves your hair to the side in order not to get in the way before landing his lips on your exposed shoulder. 

Sunoo’s gentle touch reaches your waist, his fingers tracing slow, affectionate circles on your skin. Each caress sends a shiver of warmth through your body. Racing thoughts occupy his mind carrying them into reality as he makes a bold move and reaches under your shirt. You whine at the cold hand coming in contact with your burning skin. “you're so warm angel...”

You let yourself loose, getting more comfortable with the two when you pulled out from kiss to press your lips now onto Sunoos. 

The air is laced with your moans, sexual tension arising with every touch. Your clothes have taken place all over the place while you remained in front of the flickering flames that shone the room in its calming colours. 

“Fuck- i always loved your tits,” Sunoo pinched the nub between his fingers before latching onto it. Your whines are like melodies to his ears, intensifying his actions in order to hear more. You can feel your walls contract around Jungwon fingers as he curls them, hitting deeper. “Jungwon- fuck, I'm going to cum.”

“Yeah? Cum on my tongue.” He sped up the motion, slurping away all the slick coming out of you. His tongue pokes at your entrance before entering. His cock feels as if he's about to burst any minute, precum leaking through his boxers already. He tries to soothe himself, bringing a hand down - rubbing over the material. 

The knot in your tummy gets tighter and soon enough you come all over his face, adorning the young man in your essence which he happily cleaned from his fingers.

Sunoo lets go of your nipple, standing tall over you as he takes his shaft out of its confinement , the tip angrily red streaming a flow of precum. He gives himself a few tugs before shoving the full lenght into your mouth without warning making you gag in the act. .

“Take it all slut, isn't this what you always wanted.” He grabs a fustful of your hair before pistoning into the warm cavity of your mouth. Saliva is running down your chin, tears streaming down your cheeks while he aggressively continues to shove his cock down your throat. It doesn't take long till he's sounds are coming out of his mouth and he fills up your throat with his seed then pulling out to come over your breasts. 

“We should do that again sometime…” Jungwon says from the side before getting up to get a damp rag.

He cleans up the mess his friend left behind on your chest as he cleaned himself up.

Change into new sets of clothes you make yourselves comfortable on the huge sofa awkwardly leaving space between you. Commotion can be heard from the entrance and you can confirm it's the rest of the group as they loudly enter the room. 

"EVERYONE COME HERE! FIREPLACE IS ON!" Jake shouts, settling himself in front of the dancing flames that bathe the room in a warm glow.

"Aren't you guys cold?" he asks, turning to the three of you silently sitting on the couch.

"I'm perfectly warm, thanks," Jungwon replies with a sly smile. He then moves over to where you're sitting, curling up in your lap with a contented sigh. As your fingers gently weave through his hair, a sense of peace and closeness envelops you both, filling the room with a feeling of cozy, heartfelt warmth.

[hellishjoel]

table for two | masterlist

linecook!frankie morales x waitress f!reader

← masterlist

series summary: Tommy’s Diner is where dreams go to die and burnouts clock-in for work. Waitressing would be boring without the flirtatious distractions of line cook Frankie Morales.

chapter one: slow shift* You and Frankie do a small celebration in honor of your manager's birthday. Frankie distracts you while trying to cut the cake.

chapter two: surfing the crimson wave* You lash out at Frankie, he unexpectedly does you a kindness. You thank him in his truck the best way you know how. 

chapter three: playing hooky* Frankie calls in sick for his shift. You simply must investigate. 

chapter four: sunnyside cemetery* A ghost haunts the kitchen. Or does it? A spooky night at the cemetery forces your feelings for Frankie to come to a head. 

chapter five: tequila!* A night off and some well deserved drinks put you and Frankie in the same spot on a Friday night. 

chapter six - mini chapter: when you know, you know A flashback shows Tommy’s crew enjoying Christmas Eve at the diner. Frankie makes his first move with a New Year’s kiss. 

chapter seven: think later* Frankie asks you out on your first official date.  It doesn't go as planned.

chapter eight: uneasy hearts weigh the most* Benny hosts the party of the year where broken pieces of Frankie's past are unearthed.

chapter nine: ungodly and unprofessional* Who said anything about falling in love? you're just co-workers.

chapter ten: coming soon!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

extras: ➢ table for two moodboard by @cavillscurls

➢ table for two commission by @kenobiwanx

➢ table for two moodboard by @almostfoxglove

follow my fics blog and turn on notifs to see when I post a new fic!

[diejager]

....would yan!big brother!Ghost ever feed(sneakily) his little sister aphrodisiacs

Aphrodisiac tea cw: sex pollen, INCEST, DUB-CON/NON-CON, DRUGGED SEX, DARK FIC, smut, tell me if I missed any.

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE READING ON, I DON’T WANT ANYONE TO KEEP READING IF THEY DON’T FEEL COMFORTABLE WITH THE CONTENT.

Honestly, I wouldn't put it past him to spike your drink when you’re not looking, whether it be your cup of water or your morning/afternoon tea, he isn’t against drugging you for his own needs. He feels guilty afterwards, always. There’s never a moment where he isn’t feeling that nagging pang of shame and anger filling his heart. He’d kill anyone if they did it to you without him knowing, but he lets himself do it out of pure selfishness.

He knows he’s selfish, he knows he’s a monster, he knows he’s sick in the head —mind and body, but he couldn’t stop himself. He wants you to depend on him, to want him as he wants you. He wants you to call for him, to reach a hand towards him and cry out his name when you need him. Whatever you needed, he’d answer you, Simon Riley was at your beck and call.

He might not dare in the morning when you have your morning drills with him as your superviser, he wouldn’t want others to force themselves on you when you’re weak and needy, to let other male soldiers put their hands on you and help you with your problem, he loathed the mere thought of it. He only does it in the morning tea - or coffee on occasions even though he sneers at your mug - when you’re both off duty, together in your small apartment. He’d slip enough aphrodisiac in your cup to have it bother you during the day, body heating up and thighs clenching until he gives you another dose at night.

It’s a calculated act, giving you half in the morning and the other half at night with a long-lasting aphrodisiac that wouldn’t leave your body until you fucked it out. So he never falls asleep on those nights, laying in his room, waiting for the telltale sound of your muffled moans as you try to get yourself off and failing before hearing your soft steps walking to his room. He fakes sleeping, waiting for you to shuffle and climb on his bed, arm crawling to him and voice weak and whiny.

He’d turn, fake being groggy, just woken up by you and puts on a surprised face, acting as if he didn’t know why you feeling so on edge and unsettled. It’s all a facade that he plays, but it hurts him nonetheless, to lie to his sweet, little sister. He coos at you, fingers pushing you down on his black sheets and lips silencing your pained cries. He helps you, as an older brother should, whispering sweet nothings as he pumps his fingers in your tight and wet cunt, your puffy lips wrapped around his knuckles and fingers curling upwards, watching you arch your back and toes curling as you come.

He doesn’t stop until he has you coming to his fingers, soaking his hand in slick and on his face, you’re cum painting his stubbles chin and lips. Then, and only then, does he fuck you, push his hard and throbbing cock into you, without a second thought. He feels ashamed, disgusted and filthy for dirtying you with his sins, his needs, his blasphemous thoughts and actions, but his body is stronger than is mind.

He remembers every night so vividly, burned into his mind from the dry first time he fucked you. You didn’t know any better, mind fucked up so bad by what you lived through and have seen that you didn’t see the bad in this. How could you when you thought that if you fought back, rejected your brother that he’d leave you like your mother did, like Tommy and Beth did, like innocent, little Joseph did. Your memories haunted you like a plague, infectious and unpredictable, tainting your dreams and sleepless night with vivid flashes of that Christmas.

So you clung to SImon, your only living relative, hoping that he’d heal the wounds you couldn’t with your studies.

[talesofesther]

too close to the stars

Loki x Reader

Summary: Somehow, between your overwhelming sweetness and insistence on treating him as if he was someone worth saving, you had managed to sneak your way into Loki's cold heart. He simply hadn't managed the guts to tell you, but a bit of a Christmas spirit might just change that.

A/N: I wish everyone a very happy Christmas. <3

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

The sun peered over the horizon this morning only to shine over the white expanse of snow that covered the grounds of the Avengers Compound.

It had snowed pretty heavily over the night, and as Loki looked out his window, he couldn't help but think that the landscape was rather pleasant to look at—Thor had already made his way outside to shovel snow out of the driveway along with Steve, the once green fields were now a blanket of glistening white, as were the many trees around. The air was cold, but a pleasant kind of cold; it brought a feeling of calmness.

That is, until a rather sharp noise of something scratching the floor outside his bedroom disrupted Loki's peace.

Accepting that another day had begun, the god made his way outside onto the common area, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and putting on his slippers.

As soon as Loki rounded the corner to the spacious living room, his lips hung open in bewilderment and his brows furrowed in mild confusion.

You were standing on the very top of a ladder, stretching your body so you could reach the ceiling trims and lamps, all while holding an ungodly amount of ornaments, string lights, and garlands. It looked like a rather precarious arrangement and Loki found himself worrying for your safety for a moment.

"What on earth are you doing?" Loki asked, exasperated, frozen in place as he watched you.

The ladder wiggled in place when you quickly turned around to face him and Loki nearly bolted forward to catch you if you were to fall. He cursed under his breath when all you did was give him a cheeky smile.

"I'm decorating," you gestured around to the expanse of the living room, which already had most of its nooks and crannies filled with garlands, Santa Claus plushies, stockings, and the like.

Loki's frown only deepened, "We already have decorations." He pointed to the exaggerated Christmas tree that had been standing beside the TV since before the beginning of December. Honestly, he had yet to understand the humans' obsession with said holiday.

You chuckled, and the sound naturally brought the ghost of a smile to Loki's lips as well. "No, silly. I'm decorating for our little Christmas party tomorrow night, I thought the place looked a bit bare still." You winked at him and went back to work.

Loki shook his head, his heart swelling with affection. He was way past denying it already. Somehow, between your overwhelming sweetness and insistence on treating him as if he was someone worth saving, you had managed to sneak your way into Loki's cold heart. He simply hadn't managed the guts to tell you, yet.

With a flick of his wrist, the living room erupted in a myriad of greens, golds, and reds. Each decoration you had on your arms—and more—magically took its rightful place in the walls and between furniture.

A breathless chuckle went past your lips, eyes glinting with amazement as you watched it all unfold. It was incredibly endearing, the way that, despite seeing so much of it, you never ceased to be enchanted by Loki's magic. He secretly took pride in it.

"That's convenient," you mumbled with a faint smile.

"Quite," Loki stated, taking a step closer, "Now please get down from there before you break something and have to spend your precious holiday in the med bay."

You skipped down the ladder as if gravity would bend to your will, were you to fall; the tilt of your lips ever present as you came to stand before Loki, much closer than what would be socially acceptable for ones who said they were merely friends. Yet Loki would never dare to complain. If anything, he held himself back from pulling you even closer.

"Do I detect a hint of worry, trickster?" You raised a brow at him. "Would you miss me if I didn't attend the party?"

Loki chuckled lowly, his smirk was teasing but his eyes avoided yours. "Darling, you're the only reason I'm even going to this party."

You bit your lower lip to keep the smile from getting any bigger, "Flatterer," you breathed.

And Loki loved you like this, all pink cheeks and bashful eyes, as if he had the same effect on you that you had on him. He hardly dared to dream of it. But he allowed himself to bask in these tiny moments by your side.

Then your pinkie hooked around his own, and Loki was putty in your hands.

"Come on, let's take a walk outside, enjoy the sun while it's out." You tugged him toward the elevator, not once letting go of his hand.

It was indeed very pleasant outside, the soft rays of sunlight were just enough to bring a bit of warmth along with the cold winter breeze, the air was fresh to breathe in, and the snowy landscape was beautiful.

Loki's boots crunched the snow and frozen grass underneath as he lazily walked beside you. He'd steal glances at you from time to time, watching as the sunlight shaped your serene profile and how you looked genuinely breathtaking amidst the white horizon. Everything felt perfect for a precious second and Loki wished he could slow down time.

His musing was suddenly interrupted, however, when he was hit in the back of his head with something mildly solid and very cold; causing an oof to escape his lips.

He whipped his head around in your direction only to see you muffling a giggle with one hand, while the other held a snowball.

A halfhearted scoff went past Loki's lips. He raised a hand to brush off the remaining snow from his hair, as a mischievous smirk painted his features, "You little minx, you have no idea what you've gotten yourselves into."

A mix of a squeak and a chuckle fell past your lips the moment Loki bolted towards you and you naturally sped off in the opposite direction. You struggled to run amidst the rather thick snow and Loki took the advantage to bunch up a snowball of his own and hit you square in the back.

By the time you had made it back inside the Compound, you both had nearly run two full laps of the whole yard and were a mess of snow-covered clothes and breathless laughs.

"I.. win," you spoke in between deep breaths, one hand resting on Loki's chest to brace yourself.

"Absolutely not," Loki frowned as if you'd personally offended him. He took a deep breath himself, gesturing to your snowy clothes, "You're way worse off than I am."

"Uh uh, lies," you insisted. "I hit you way more than you hit me, your aim is shit," you chuckled.

Loki's smile followed yours naturally, he raised a hand to brush wild strands of your hair away from your eyes, his touch all delicate and soft. "You keep telling yourself that, love."

─── ·❆· ───

When the night of the celebration finally arrived, Loki found himself hesitating to get out of his room. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, slowly running a hand over the smooth fabric of his black suit. Did he like what he saw? The person staring back at him? Would you?

It was no secret that, despite accepting his presence, a few wary looks and comments still lingered between his teammates whenever he walked into a room. Loki couldn't blame them, not really. He also couldn't deny that those not-so-kind comments didn't get to him sometimes, much as he'd like to.

But then, there was you, who had never once made him feel unwelcome or unworthy. You who made him coffee in the mornings and always saved him a seat at the table. You who had a smile reserved for him ever since his first day here. You who made his heartbeat stumble and his silver tongue get caught in his mouth.

And Loki so desperately wanted to be someone deserving of all that. Still, he feared he wasn't.

A long sigh went past his lips. With a final tidying of his hair and the tie around his neck, Loki made his way out.

There was music playing in the common area. The several blinking lights you had so meticulously arranged were illuminating the room beautifully, reflecting against the many Christmas ornaments in warm shades of orange in the night. Tony, Thor, and Natasha were hanging out by the bar, with drinks in hand and loose smiles on their faces; Clint and Steve were sitting on the couch, laughing at something that Loki couldn't hear; Bucky and Sam were standing together by the Christmas tree, apparently trying to guess what was inside each present.

A few of their gazes turned as Loki stepped into the room, he could see as well as feel it, the weight resting in each one. He gave a polite smile and nod to no one in particular as his gaze skimmed around, looking for the reason he came. When he couldn't find you, he walked straight to the bar.

Loki leaned his elbows on the glass surface, closing his eyes and breathing in. There was a reason he wasn't overly fond of the team's social gatherings; he felt like an intruder, someone they were merely putting up with.

"Anything special?" Natasha's sultry voice made Loki look up. She stood behind the bar with an inquiring eyebrow raised at him.

"I'm afraid she's not here yet," Loki mumbled, which elicited a low chuckle from Natasha. The spy was a dear friend of yours and probably something close to it for Loki as well, one of the few people here who he knew didn't mind his presence.

"Actually," Natasha started, nodding towards the opening doors of the elevator, "I think she just arrived."

Loki turned around and his breath hitched. You stepped out of the elevator slowly, one hand smoothing out the fabric of your red dress—a gorgeous red dress that hugged your body and accentuated your curves to perfection. Your hair was up in a bun and there was golden jewelry highlighting your features.

The god was frozen in place, entranced by the beauty that was you. He'd never been so taken with anyone like he is with you. And when your eyes met, and a small, timid smile graced your glossy lips, Loki swore he could feel his heartbeat stumble.

You were about to make your way to him when Steve called your name and stole your attention. And then Bruce, and then Sam. Seemed like everyone wanted a piece of you tonight.

Loki had a near-empty drink in hand when you finally managed to walk up to him.

You approached him with a smirk, leaning on the bar just beside him and raising a hand to gently tug on the lapel of his blazer. "Well, don't you clean up nicely, trickster?"

Loki hummed, leaning just a tad closer to you, "I'm not the one everyone is trying to get a hold of this evening." He said lowly, only for you to hear.

"Oh please," you chuckled, briefly avoiding his gaze. "I only have eyes for one person tonight."

A beat of silence passed, even if the room was anything but silent. Tony was going on about one of the many Christmas stories he shared every year, eliciting laughs from your teammates who by now had gathered all around the living room. From the corner of his eye, Loki noticed Bucky trying to straighten the star on the very top of the Christmas tree, the one the soldier himself had knocked over earlier.

You'd be mad, Loki thought. You'd be saying something about manners and being more careful, with a smile on your lips as you easily fixed the golden star yourself.

But instead, you were here; attention solely on Loki, in your little corner of the world as the chatter around you turned to nothing but muffled noise.

Why? He couldn't help but wonder. What could you possibly see on him?

"And who is this lucky gentleman?" Loki asked, his voice suddenly way too quiet as he kept his eyes trained on his half-empty glass, "Or lady?"

Only after you didn't answer, did Loki finally look up at you. There was a soft smile on your lips, painted with a feeling he couldn't name.

"That's a secret," you whispered back and took hold of Loki's glass of champagne, leaving it on top of the bar before closing your hand around his own instead. "Come on."

Loki followed easily, he allowed you to guide him to the balcony, where the cold wind was flowing and the warm lights from inside were nothing but a faded glow coming from the glass doors.

You didn't let go of Loki's hand when you stopped walking, only squeezed it once as you looked up at him with softly furrowed brows and an adorable tilt of your head. "What's wrong? You've been all tense ever since I walked in."

Of course you'd know. Of course you'd notice the stiffness of his shoulders and the guarded look in his eyes. If there was anyone who could read him like an open book, it was you.

A breathy chuckle fell past Loki's lips, he drank in the sight of you in the night; as wisps of your hair flew with the wind and as the light from inside outlined the shape of your features.

"You know it as well as I do that they don't want me here," Loki shot a pointed look at your teammates inside, not accusing, simply stating. "I don't… belong here…" Loki's fingers tangled with yours, his thumb gently brushing the skin of your hand, "With you." The words were nothing but a breath.

You raised your free hand to his face, twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers before you gingerly traced his jaw. "But you do," you took half a step closer to him, your heels bumping his shoes, "You may think that you don't, but you do. I'd miss you greatly if you ever left."

Loki met your gaze again, his eyes a pool of sentiment, walls down and as vulnerable as you'd ever seen him. He leaned into your touch, all soft and pleading. "How could I ever deserve your kindness?" He spoke quietly, almost as if he never meant to say it out loud.

But you heard anyway, and your answer came in the same heartbeat. "You already do, always have." Your voice caught slightly in your throat, overwhelmed with the affection you felt for him.

The softest of smiles graced Loki's lips, the back of his eyes burned and his heart beat out of his chest, for you, for you, for you. He leaned in, biting the inside of his cheek and closing his eyes when you didn't pull away. His lips met your forehead in a lingering kiss, a promise of the thousand words he wished to say to you, of everything you made him feel that he couldn't put into words.

When he pulled away, you were looking up at him with something akin to adoration—maybe he could dare to call it love. Your eyes shining with a twinkle of expectation.

Loki squeezed your hand, feeling his cheeks heat up. "I couldn't break your silly tradition, now could I?" He shot a glance up.

You followed his gaze and finally saw it, a glimmer of green leaves with a small red trinket tying it together, delicately flowing in the wind as it hung by the door, pretty much on top of your head. A mistletoe.

You hummed, a small smirk coming to your lips as you settled back on Loki. "I don't remember putting it there." You raised a brow at him, standing so close you breathed the same air.

"And yet it's there anyway," Loki mumbled, lost in your orbit. His eyes darted down to your lips; it was a quick glance, all timid and boyish, but you caught it.

"So it is," you chuckled quietly, taking hold of the tie around his neck so you could pull him closer still, "And I wouldn't want to break tradition either."

You kissed him then, soft lips fitting with his own like a missing puzzle piece. A quiet gasp of surprise escaped Loki as soon as you closed the distance, yet you were quick to kiss it away, trapping his lower lip between yours and bringing one hand up to tangle in between his hair.

The taste, the feeling of you, put Loki's most beautiful dreams to shame. It's white noise and being submerged underwater all the same time—sweet, warm and tasting like brown sugar and the sip of champagne you had earlier.

The world around faded to nothingness as Loki's hand traced your spine and tugged you flush to him, his breath came in trembling puffs when you pulled away just the tiniest bit. His lips tingled as they brushed against yours again.

What a remarkable mortal you were, to have a god shivering beneath your touch. And selfishly, Loki wouldn't have it any other way.

You opened your eyes slowly, tongue running over your bottom lip as your thumb traced his jaw. You breathed in deeply to catch back the air he whisked out of you.

Loki watched the stars dancing in your eyes, looking down at you as if you were his universe, and delighting in the way you looked up at him as if he were yours. Maybe that's what love was all about.

Your hand trailed down his arm, brushing the fabric of his blazer until you tangled your fingers with his.

Squeezing your hand, Loki smiled. He felt like he belonged, right here by your side.

"Come on, before they open all the gifts without us," you winked, raising your free hand to clean the smudged lipstick by the corner of your mouth.

Loki followed you inside with his cheeks and heart feeling all warm. And if the mistletoe disappeared in a flash of green after you turned around, no one needed to know.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Loki’s taglist: @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @justaproudslytherpuff @justanotherkpopstanlol @chronicallybubbly @chaoticqueen33 @7minutes-tomidnight @uncle-eggy @oliviaewl @dd122004dd @tani725 @innebulae @mochminnie @mayemperess @alyeskathewave @buginktsworld @cremebruleequeen @wyvernthekriger @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @avengersfan25 @mischief2sarawr @yokolesbianism @athenasproverbs @h-l-vlovesvintage @princess-ofthe-pages

@daisy-the-quake @talesofadragon @rainbowsocks @alexandra-001 @mary-jinx @stevenknightmarc @falconxsoldier @ladymercury8 @shirukitsune @ladymischief11 @starkzdaughter @navs-bhat @creat0r-cat @cinnamonbambii @anundyingfidelity @creationcitystreet-em @or-was-it-just-a-dream @agustdpeach @agent-tempest @spidermantaylorsversion @127djarin @imthedoctorlove @lokidokieokie @cookieeecutter @anuncalledbridge @awkwardnesshabitat

[thesassypadawan]

Halloween Costumes (Hayden x FemReader) *Headcanon*

Summary: A certain moose decides to help you celebrate your favorite night of the year right.  By fulfilling one of your corniest horniest dreams.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut.  Lightsaber play, cute couple’s costume, bad puns, and, as always… Hayden’s big, fat dick.

Notes: Happy Kinktober all you, lovelies! 🖤🧡

*Cutesy Scary, SFW*

- Let’s start off with the fact that although Halloween might not be Hay’s absolute favorite holiday (to be fair, he’s more of Christmas man).  But that won’t stop him from full-on embracing the spooky season, all for the sake of you.  Because nothing make’s dadcula more happy than seeing his little witch get all giddy, smiley…not threatening to put the curse of the dry spell on him.

- The moment you suggest doing a certain ‘star-crossed lovers’ for your couple’s costume…the man is all over it.  Finding and ordering you the best ‘aggressive negotiations senator’ dress he comes across, while pulling his own ‘fallen space wizard’ robes from storage.  He’ll even go as far as letting that mullet grow out a bit, all because you said you want things to be more fangtastic.

- When the big day finally rolls around, you’re like a stupid teenager again.  Sitting on the edge of your bed; legs swinging, giggling.  Grinning at his reflection in the mirror; watching him meticulously put on each piece, ruffling his curls to fall just perfectly.  Practically jumping his bones when he asks you so sweetly…  “Mind helping an old Skyguy draw on his scar?”

- At the party, the two of you are pretty much inseparable.  Being that sickeningly cute pair, who’s glued to one another.  With you holding onto, pressed into his side.  Nails scratching gently at his back, sending shivers down his spine.  And Hayden with his arm lazily wrapped around your waist; big, gloved hand resting on your hip.  Leather clad fingers giving your handle the occasional squeeze, sometimes slipping a bit lower when he thought no one was looking….causing you to let out some small ‘eeks’.

- Towards the end of the night, after one too many potions.  He’ll press a kiss to your rosy cheek, ghost his lips over the shell of your ear…hot breath fanning, goosebumps forming and spreading across your skin.  “What do you say?  Head back to our haunted house, see if I can make you wail like a banshee?”

*Spooky Scary, NSFW*

- You can definitely feel all of those bubbly potions you downed working their magic.  Hell fire burning your cheeks, pooling between your thighs.  Making you hastily shed all those heavy layers, tossing them carelessly into a haphazard pile at the foot of your bed.  Along with lowering your inhibitions, emboldening you…and him.

- Shoving you against the sheets; tugging at your waist, you obediently raise your hips.  Hayden roughly yanks, rips those cute ghosty panties right off your booty.  His groans, the soft clinks of his utility belt echo from behind.  His long fingers slipping into your needy cunny, roughly and rapidly pumping three.  Cool metal brushing your skin; running lazily, ominously up and down your leg.  “Babe…babe?  What are y-you-”

- “Ssssh, relax…”  Pushing those dripping, soaked digits past your lips; forcing you to taste, gag slightly on your own sweet juices.  While he prods, teases your clit with the cylindrical object.  Sending jolts of pleasure through, body trembling and thrumming with anticipation.  Trails of slick trickling out from your empty hole.  “This is where the fun begins…”

- A loud whine mixed with a moan bubbles out from your throat as the tip of his lightsaber hilt sinks in, invades your heat.  Gummy walls burn, struggle to stretch.  The ruff, smooth texture of it scrapes…scratches.  Tears of pain and pleasure form, sting at the corners of your eyes.  As you suck weakly on his fingertips, reveling in the array of overwhelming sensations…basking in the way he praises you.  “Look at you, all spread out for me.  Taking my saber so well.  Such a good ghoul.”

- Plunging further, thrusting faster.  Your breaths grow shallower, come out in ragged gasps.  Hips rock back unconsciously, nipples drag across the mattress.  Seeking out more friction.  Building and hurtling yourself closer and closer towards what was easily going to be a truly frightful orgasm.  “Trick or Treat.  Gimme something good to…”   And right before you tip completely over the edge, he pulls the new toy from your depths.

- Strangled cry escapes you when his mouth meets your drenched folds.  Big hands holding you open for him; devouring, lapping at your sensitive bud.  Until you burst all over Hay’s tongue, mewling when he groans into your core.  Deep voice rumbling, sending aftershocks through your spent form.  “…eat.”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @jediavengers, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @xhunnybeeex, @vaderswifey

[oceantornadoo]

the cabin in the highlands (johnny mactavish x f!reader)

reminder that i suck at scottish accents

--

“johnny, why did you bring me here?”

he flicked the ash off his cigarette and raised it to his mouth.

“ye said ye were gonna be lonely on the next break.”

actually, you had said you were going to be alone, which is different. you wanted to be alone because you needed a break from this. the overbearing presence of johnny, his scent cloying with your nostrils and settling in the air. every joke. every playful punch, every brush of the waist was wrapped in your mind like a twisted christmas present, with no end and no beginning. you treasured your moments together but couldn’t make sense of them at all.

of course, johnny didn't care about any of that, which was why you were smoking outside a cabin in the highlands, eyes tracking the fog rolling over the distant mountains. you could have been relaxing in your flat near base - alone, sure, but at least you'd be at ease. instead, your heart rate was perpetually elevated, shoulders bunched at every movement of johnny's. it was quiet here, no gunfire or commands in your ear. just you and johnny, in his small cabin that he liked to come to in between deployments. "air clears everythin' up 'ere." he had said, pointing to his skull, where the bullet had grazed. you couldn't deny him that - it was beautiful and peaceful and calm, your thoughts slowing to the pace of a dripping faucet when you had a moment to yourself. not now, of course.

it was early morning, the sun just cresting over the horizon. bit chilly, but not enough to see your breath. johnny had honest-to-god rocking chairs on his back porch, wooden creaky things you both sat in as you watched the sunrise in silence. you wrapped your hands tighter around your tea mug as johnny finished his cigarette, a habit he seemed to have picked up from ghost in the past few weeks. you'd thought you brought warm enough clothes, leggings and sweats packed to the brim, but clearly you underestimated the kind of cold in the highlands. even with the summer air, the early morning chill sank deep into your bones. "ye're shakin' like a leaf, lass." you shook your head, taking another sip of your tea. "still waking up, johnny. unlike you, i try to sleep in when we're not deployed. still catching up from three weeks ago." he grunted, finishing his cigarette and putting out the stub on his ashtray. you tracked his movements, eyes tracing the veins and battle worn callouses of his hands, disappearing into his thick fleece jacket.

"c'mere." you must have heard him wrong. you turned to him, furrowed eyebrows asking a silent question. "i'm sorry?" he grinned, patting his lap. "am warm. c'mon." you rolled your eyes, averting your gaze to the mountains again. "don't be dumb, johnny. i'm fine." silence. and then, a large hand appeared in your vision, plucking the mug out of your hands. he came back, tucking one arm under your knees and the other around your back, tugging you up into his arms. "johnny! i was comfy!" he laughed into the nape of your neck, mohawk cutting off your field of vision. he smelled good, like pine and the remnants of last night's fire, home mixed up into a scent.

johnny maneuvered himself back into his seat, plopping you into his lap. "better, bon?" you nodded meekly, tucking yourself into his lap. he was warm all over, your forehead coming to rest on his collarbone. he ran one hand up and down your thighs, tracing the lines of your pajama pants, while the other hand secured you against him. "thin pants." he murmured, almost to himself. you weren't sure where to put your hands, suddenly thrown by the absurdity of your position, curled up in your fellow sergeant's lap. your ass was directly against his crotch, rubbing against his sweatpants. you swore you could feel something getting harder against you, choosing to ignore it completely. "johnny, this is hardly appropriate we're-" "not at work. jus' ye an' me." you blew out a harsh breath. "i don't know what to think, johnny." what to think about his offer to go see his cabin. what to think about accepting and following through. what to think about wearing his sweatshirt, sitting in his lap. what to think about being the only two people around for miles. "don't. lemme hold you, mo chridhe." you gave up, sinking into his arms.

your focus turned from the mountains to him. his scent, wrapping you in his embrace. the softness of his fleece jacket. the safety of his arms, still petting you like something precious. out of nowhere, an idea came to your mind. you turned slowly, pulling a bit out of his embrace. he grumbled and you shushed him with a glare. gently, you took your hand out of your lap to run it through his hair. your theory was correct. this harsh military man kept his mohawk butter soft, your hand passing easily through the strands. you pressed your nails in a bit, just to experiment, and were rewarded with a low growl, reverberating in your thighs. he closed his eyes, blue gaze now hidden, leaning into your touch. you shifted your weight, pulling out of his lap to straddle him instead, thighs surrounding his own like a vice. he pulled you forward, eyes still closed, hands digging into your pajamas as he forced you as close as possible. your core rubbed against him, clothed cunt rocking in his lap, reveling in the hardness there. your hands were still exploring his hair, dragging your nails this way and that, tracking his every groan and tucking it in somewhere hidden in your heart. whenever this bubble popped, whenever he got bored and moved on from this tug of war, you'd hoard those groans like a dragon protecting her treasure. his hands had traveled to your ass, pushing you even closer as his thumbs dug into your hips, circling. he gave you a roll of his hips, cock pressing against your aching cunt through layers of fabric.

"johnny, feels good." he did it again, catching your clit at a perfect angle. you let out a moan, uninhibited and from your center, and felt him grow even harder under you. you dropped your hands from his hair, forehead resting on his shoulder. "what if- fuck. just once, johnny? won't get awkward after, i promise." he stopped suddenly, hips falling against the chair. you let out a sound of protest, moving your head from his shoulder. "shit, i'm sorry i didn't mean-" he shut you up with a kiss: harsh, bruising, possessive. his hands came up to craddle your face, one moving south to grip your jaw in an almost-chokehold. he tugged you closer by the neck, earning a moan from your lips. you felt him smile against you, all content, before he dove back in, dominating the mood. coming out of your shock, you kissed him back with a fervor, biting his bottom lip slightly. johnny pulled back, suddenly all business.

"dinnae want t' fuck ye." oh. "then what...? why am i here?" he shook his head, removing a hand from your neck to rub it through his mohawk, then down his face. "d'ye like th' cabin?" the change in subject threw you. "the- the cabin? yeah, it's nice. i'm confused, how does that relate?" his eyes found yours again, searing into your soul. "it's fer ye. us." oh. your mouth dropped and he laughed at the sight, his honeyed sound soothing your nerves. "for us? what? why?" he smirked, all cocky now that he'd recovered from whatever that was. "dinnae want ye once, chridhe. want t' wake up with ye here every mornin. watch th' sunrise with ye in ma lap. no eyes, jus' us."

wildly, some part of your brain was still functioning, recalling all those interactions that had brought you here. your first duo mission, screaming at each other over comms. when you lost your pocketknife gifted to you from your last captain and johnny gave you his own, which now traveled with you everywhere. shitty safehouses with no mattresses, sharing sleeping bags to stay warm. his hands, practically paws, always around your waist, keeping you close. movie nights in the common room, organized by yours truly, always ending with your head on his arm, using his bicep as a pillow. dancing on bar dancefloors, drunk logic making it ok to hide your face in his neck, johnny's arms always on the top of your ass. that one fight with that creepy sergeant from another team, your pleas the only thing to stop johnny from breaking his neck. and finally, the ring around your fourth finger (right hand, not left) in your favorite metal. something he had presented to you privately with pink cheeks, scratching his neck and murmuring something about found it at a flea market, even though you both knew it had to cost hundreds and just happened to be your exact size.

"johnny, you're my best friend. what if it-" you hiccupped suddenly, overwhelmed. "what if it doesn't work. what if in five years, we're screaming at each other over small stuff. god forbid, what if it's silent? i can't do it without you, johnny. fuck." the tears in your eyes were threatening to fall, the image of johnny blurry. he shook his head with a small smile, fingers gently brushing the tears out of your eyes. "aye an' if it does? five years an' yer ma wife? breakfast watchin' th' sun, christmas wi' th' lads, bairns in a few more? no doubtin' us." he slipped that ring off your hand, transferring it to your left, fourth finger. you emitted a small gasp, the metal warming under his touch. "please." his voice broke on the last syllable; your stupidly insane loveable hunk of a man had a few tears in his blue eyes. the sight nearly broke you, and you vowed he'd never have to beg you again. "yes. yes with you, johnny."

and like all best promises, you sealed it with a kiss.

[babydollmarauders]

SILENT NIGHT — MATTHEW TKACHUK

matthew tkachuk x fem!reader

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which Matthew agrees to walk around their neighborhood to look at holiday lights… with a catch

warnings: NSFW CONTENT, praise, slight exhibitionism, choking, daddy kink, p in v (unprotected). (2.8k words)

notes: welcome to day 6 of my 12 days of kinkmas! this is my first time ever writing for matty, so i apologize if it’s iffy.

i should’ve known nothing with Matthew could be done with pure relaxation in mind.

i thought it would be nice, a relaxing walk around the neighborhood, hand in hand like normal couples as we look at all the christmas lights that decorate each house.

but i didn’t take into account that my boyfriend is, to put it lovingly, a freak.

a relaxing walk? no, thank you, not for him. instead, he has to make things… interesting.

so here i am, hand grasping Matthew’s tightly as i walk next to him, the side of my body pressed to his, and soft breathy moans escaping my lips as he smirks beside me.

i begged him all day since he got home from his roadie to get him to agree to this walk, and he kept saying he ‘wasn’t feeling it’. until he came up with his one term, a stupid term that i stupidly agreed with.

“Matty, c’mon!” i whisper pleadingly, a shiver wracking my body from both the cold air that rises up my jacket, and the vibrations that press against my clit, controlled by the little remote that my boyfriend plays around with in his coat pocket.

“uh-uh.” he teasingly denies, turning the vibrator in my panties down a level.

the dark sky looms up above us, stars barely visible, but it doesn’t matter to me because my eyes are fixated on the bright lights that adorn each house. reds, greens, white’s, and blue’s; blow up santa’s in a few lawns; light up reindeer in others.

though it’s not snowing like it would’ve in Calgary, i’ve gotten so used to the warm Florida weather that now that it’s winter, the nip of chill in the air makes the tip of my nose red.

my teeth sink into my bottom lip so hard that i fear i’ll draw blood, attempting to hold in my sounds as we walk past another couple that must’ve had the same idea to look at the lights.

Matthew smiles politely as we pass, not giving off any hints that we’re doing anything beyond admiring the beautiful lights; but once we’re far enough away, i hear the click of a button of the remote a few times, the vibrations of the toy that’s pressed snugly against my clit rising in intensity.

my legs stop, my hand that’s tangled in Matty’s tugging him back as he continues to walk, and my jaw drops open as i let out a loud, squeaky whine.

“shhh!” he reminds me. he hastily takes two big steps forward, stopping in front of me.

his hand rises to cup my cheek, tilting my head up to look at him, his eyes glinting with a dangerous mixture of mischief and lust.

“you gotta be quiet. don’t want anyone to hear you, do you, sweetheart?” his head tilts in questioning, an eyebrow raising as he awaits my response.

i’m quiet for a moment, listening to the silence of the night before i respond.

“no, Matty.” i shake my head as my boyfriend nods his in approval, tangling his arm through mine.

he urges me along, my feet shuffling slowly across the cement as i attempt to simultaneously walk and clench my thighs together. leaning down, his lips ghost against the shell of my ear, his heated breath fanning against my cold skin, sending chills down my spine, my eyelids fluttering closed as i let him guide me.

“you’re being such a good girl for me,” his voice is deep but spoken in a hushed whisper, his hand splaying out against the small of my back. “looking at me with those pretty eyes, just desperate to cum.”

his free hand slips back into his pocket, the vibrator suddenly switching to the lowest setting, making me whimper in response.

“not yet.” Matthew tsk’s shaking his head as he resumes the walk, guiding me along down the sidewalk.

he glances down at me, flashing a bright and innocent smile; as though he isn’t holding the essential key to my orgasm in the palm of his hand; as though he isn’t torturing me with pleasure in this very moment.

his eyes flit up, gazing behind me, and entirely too quickly, his smile turns mischievous, a playful glimmer in his eyes.

“hey, look,” he sing-songs, “there’s sasha’s house. and the lights are on! we should stop by and say hello, shouldn’t we?”

he nods his head towards the house behind me, “we’ve been meaning to invite him over for Christmas dinner, right?”

his hand slips into mine, pulling me along towards his captain’s house, and my eyes widen, shaking my head.

“no!” i try to speak lowly, but my word turns into a soft moan as the vibration against my clit gains intensity. we get all the way across the street before i can speak again, “Matthew!”

he halts in his tracks, turning towards me with a raised brow at the disuse of his nickname.

“i am not going to face your captain right now!” a cheeky grin spreads across my boyfriend’s face, teeth on full display, and i already know he’s about to test my limits.

“why not?” he questions playfully, biting his lips to hold back a chuckle.

“y-you know why not!” i hiss back, my hips jerking slightly as he lowers the intensity of the toy just a little, “i am not facing him with a fucking vibrator in my underwear!”

“hmm,” Matty hums, nodding understandingly, but his lips still hold a mocking smile. his finger hooks under my chin, tipping my head back to look into my eyes, “well then; the faster we walk, the faster we get home, which means the faster you can cum all over my cock.”

my body trembles in desperation at the mere thought, my hand reaching up to grasp his in determination before i begin walking as fast as i can muster under the circumstances.

Matthew follows me, speeding up his pace as he begins to laugh, “so needy!”

his teasing leaves me unphased, my feet only shuffling back towards our house even quicker. but the faster i move, the more intense the vibrations get against my clit, urging me to slow down.

“M-Matty, please!” i cry, spinning around to face my boyfriend, “you win! i can’t take it anymore! i wanna go home!”

frustrated tears threaten to spill over my waterline, a pout etched into my face as i gaze up at him, towering over me.

“we can go home,” he hums sincerely. stopping beside me, he holds his arm out for me to entangle mine with; before lowering his lips towards my ear one last time, “right after this.”

my brows furrow in confusion, pulling my face back to look at him, but it doesn’t take long for me to understand his words.

the vibrator begins to hum, my body falling into his, as he proudly holds up the little purple remote, the tiny little LED numbers at the top reading ‘10’.

“highest level, darling. just let it out.” Matthew smirks, arms encircling my waist, holding me flush to his body as my legs turn weak.

the vibration against my clit is the most severe it’s been all night, my legs instinctively pressing together. but it doesn’t help at all, rather making the sensation stronger, which in turn makes my legs give out entirely.

Matty holds my body up, leaning down to capture my lips in his, effectively releasing my bottom lip from its jail between my teeth. with our lips pressed together, my hands tangle into the hair at the nape of his neck, moans pouring from my mouth and into his as my toes curl inside my combat boots.

eyes squeezed shut, the knotted chord that’s been tangling in my stomach snaps, my orgasm bringing flashes of light into my dark vision, blood rushing in my ears.

and just as quick as it hits, it’s gone; the vibrator powered off entirely with a simple click of a button from Matthew’s finger.

i breathe heavily as i come down from my release, pulling away from my boyfriend’s lips as he lifts me off the ground. my legs loosely wrap around his waist, his hands holding my ass as he begins to walk, eyeing his path from over my shoulder.

“i thought i wasn’t-”

i’m cut off by Matty speaking over me, “coming until we got home? yeah, that was the plan.”

he shrugs, fingers gripping tighter on my ass as he hastens his movement.

“but, you seemed so… tense,” he chuckles, “call it an early christmas present.”

“i don’t wanna cum for christmas!” i pout, but when he looks back at me with a singular raised brow, i backtrack, “well, i do. but, i also want a stanley cup!”

Matthew snickers as he steps up the stairs towards our front door.

“yeah? join the club.” he jokes and i smack his shoulder as he unlocks our house, opening the door and stepping inside.

“you know what i meant!” i roll my eyes, “i want a custom one a red one, like Panthers red, with your number on it.”

he smirks, letting me slide down the front of his body as i lay my feet flat upon the hardwood floor.

“i think i need a shower.” i huff, kicking my boots off before i turn to face my boyfriend again.

Matthew stands in the same spot as before, now eyeing the wet spot on his shirt from where my pussy was pressed against him after my release.

“you? look at me.”

i shrug, looking up at him with innocent eyes, “well, you did promise i could cum on your cock when we got home. you didn’t say where in the home.”

my boyfriend stares me down with a blank expression, blinking slowly as he processes my words, before clasping my hand with his, hurriedly pulling me towards our bedroom.

i giggle as i run through the house behind him, following him into our bedroom, where we’re quick to rid ourselves of our layers of clothing. i keep my panties on, walking into the bathroom before i peel them off, setting the vibrator in the sink to wash later.

i turn around just in time to watch Matty turn the shower on, water cascading down and pinging off the tile of the walk-in shower, splashing up against the panes of glass that surround it.

i step towards him, eyes scanning his toned body until i reach the part i yearn for.

his cock is hard; no longer straining against any fabrics, it stands in the air, tip flaming red and glistening with precum.

“oh, you’re so desperate, aren’t you?” he smirks, his hand pressing against my lower back as he ushers me into the steaming shower. “your eyes haven’t left my dick, it’s like you’re willing it to fuck you.”

my sight finally flickers back up to his face, warm water splashing upon my back as i stare up at him with soft eyes.

“i am.” i whisper, my voice low and sultry.

Matthew steps forward, closing the shower door behind him and pulling me towards him with a hand on my hip.

his erection presses against my hip, his voice deep and lust filled as he speaks, “all you to do is ask, darling.”

my thighs press together, eyelids falling hooded as i gaze up at him.

“Matty?” i start, an encouraging hum coming from his lips, “will you fuck me?”

“turn around, angel.”

i spin around, back facing him as water falls against my chest. he turns us to the side, his hands gripping my hips and pulling my ass back towards him, his cock nestling against it.

he bends my upper body forward, my arms instinctively stretching out in front of me, my wet hands slapping against the wall. Matthew steps back, kicking my feet apart before his right hand leaves my hip.

i squeak out a moan as his thick fingers swipe through my folds, gauging my wetness and lubrication from my orgasm just ten minutes ago.

“you think you can take me?” his lips, press against the top of my shoulder, peppering wet kisses up the side of my neck as i heave out of a shaky breath.

“yes,” i moan, nodding my head as best i can, “yes, daddy.”

Matty groans at the name, his hips bucking against mine and causing my jaw to drop. i peer back over my shoulder, watching as his hand wraps around his length.

he guides his tip through my wetness, spreading my cum around as lubrication before he lines himself up with my entrance, pressing forward and taking great pride in how my walls swallow him in.

“fuck.” he grunts, listening to my strangled whimper as he eases into me, “doing so well f’me, princess.”

the painful yet pleasant sting of his thick cock stretching me open causes my arms to shake, dropping forward with my forearms against the wall now. the new angle proves well when he finally bottoms out inside of me, the tip of his dick prodding against my g-spot.

“oh my god.” i cry out, my hips grinding back against him as he pulls out slowly, biding his time before he makes a swift thrust back in. his muscular thighs smack against the backs of mine, the sound echoing with the water that sprays down upon us.

his arm wraps around the front of my waist, holding me up as he fucks into me. his thrusts start slow but harsh, gradually picking up until he’s slamming into me at an unforgiving pace.

my tits bounce, my entire body jolting forward with each thrust, and i know at the rate he’s going, i won’t last long.

a broken sob carries through the bathroom as i press my cheek against the wall, barely able to keep my head up as i arch my back, allowing a deeper angle and an even better positioning for him to hit that soft spot inside of me.

“M-Matty! daddy!” my body shakes, only being pushed further towards my limit with the sound of his groans as he fucks into me, my walls pulsing around him.

“that’s it, princess,” his hands slides up my front, roughly clutching at my breast before continuing its travels, wrapping around my throat. “you gonna cum for me?”

he uses his grip to pull me upright, my back against his chest as my head tips back, laying on his shoulder. his hand tightens gently around my neck, the rush clouding my head as my breath catches in my throat.

i make a feeble attempt at a nod, but it’s more of a jerky movement than anything. his cock prods against my g-stop repetitively, his hips smacking against my ass.

his grip loosens enough for me to gulp in deep breaths, the pressure in my stomach building and building with each passing second. his free hand falls down to my swollen clit, a singular thick digit rubbing against it as his pace never falters.

“i’m gonna c-cum.” i pant out through shaky moans.

“cum for me, princess.”

his name falls from my lips like a solemn prayer, my toes curling against the wet tile underneath them as my eyes rolls back in my head, the pressure in my stomach finally relieving in a blast of pleasure.

Matty doesn’t stop pounding into me, his thrusts just growing more desperate as he chases his own high, simultaneously riding me through mine.

“shit, shit, shit!” he curses, his thrusts faltering as he reaches his orgasm, releasing inside of me with ropes of cum.

he stills, his hand falling from my neck, and instead both of them gripping my hips as he slowly pulls out of me. a gasping breath falls from me as i’m left clenching around nothing, the feeling of emptiness bittersweet.

“god, you’re a fucking dream.” he hums, spinning me around and pulling me into his chest.

a lazy smile spreads across my lips, pressing a kiss to his pec as my eyelids flutter.

“i think i really need a shower now.” he laughs at my response, turning so my body is completely under the warm water.

i step back, tipping my head back to let the water soak my hair and body before i peek an eye open to glance at him. his eyes are stuck on my breasts, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“are you gonna help me get clean or what?” i cock an eyebrow at him, his eyes snapping up to look at my face.

“i think… if i do that, i can’t be held responsible for my dick’s reaction.”

a boisterous giggle erupts from my throat, my hands reaching out to grab his, and i pull him under the water with me.

“well, the night is young,” i sing-song, “and you were gone for a long time.”

“i was gone a week.” he chuckles.

“mhm, and i usually get about 5 orgasms a week… i think we’ve got some catching up to do.”