#so they wear clothing in between!!! besides if i wanted to make them girly i have jk fashion au for that

[triglycercule]

alright i finished this so i need to celebrate my accomplishment (???) by sharing it to the world

BETTER versions of my trio designs. because boo boo the other old ones were BORING and TOO SIMPLE and lowhighkey UGLY. i had no idea what i was thinking when i made this but i guess design notes before to see if i can figure out what the fuck these mean 💀

killer🔪:3

he got a GLOW UP!!! when i was figuring him out i was thinking like. this man needs to look combat ready he CANNOT look chill and relaxed he MUST look good to fight. killer can't catch a break 💀 anyways. it's ALSO not revealing (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎) because i feel he would NOT wear that stuff cmon flirty =/= revealing. his charms are found through his words and actions (stabbing someone through the heart) (speaking of the heart i couldn't be bothered to draw his soul mb)

the gloves/shirt/leggings under his clothes may LOOK seperate. but its actually all one big piece!!! because i thought it would be silly and funny :3 but like on a serious note i like this because it provides an extra layer of protection (both in a fight and not) and like. a sense of anonymity i guess??? like you can't see killer's natural body you cant SEE who he was before because hes changed that much (or i guess HE cant see who he was b4 wtvr)

actually a lot of killer's outfit has meaning behind it. knee pads = unnatural body imitation killer is a whole new being now not monster (also adding 2 the combat look :3) belts = restraint killer needs to stay in line and do as he's ordered (i needed some visual interest 💀) zippers on shoes?? actually no meaning i just thought it would be cute. somehow i managed to find meanings 4 all of the trio's zippers. killer's is jammed in that spot. show like idk he is irreversibly changed to what he is now (a lot of this makes no sense)

horror 🪓 :3

if you remove all the rips in the clothes he'd be the most basic out of all of them. but theyre there so he's NOT the most basic! 4 horror i was thinking like "you can see he's fucked up but you can also see he's desperately trying to keep it together" type feel. i totally didnt steal those under socket lines (thank you mania and paranoia for donating to your og versions :3) to make horror look more 🌀🌀🌀 (cannot describe it)

the cloak was stolen from undyne trust. he wears it as a power move FUCK YOU!!! to her :3 also it looks royal and regal which could kinda show like horror's power and sway over snowdin. he's DEFINITELY not a king but he is a provider and a lot of what he says goes around those parts. a lot of ppl look to him as like world's shittiest leader(ish). also i just wanted him to have something unique!

underneath horror's jacket his shirt is reaaaally torn he should probably replace it. there are some holes from when he was pinned down with spears during the core incident and then the whole lower half is just totally torn off from that one comic 💀 but thats why the jacket is zipped up! however the zipper broke and now the jacket can't unzip! (because horror struggles with the fact that horrortale ISNT gonna be perpetually shitty (everyone say thanks aliza) and would rather nobody see him vulnerable)

dust🧣:3

i didn't change much about him lowkey he's pretty much wearing the same CLOTHES. just that the style and way he's wearing them changed. wanted him to give like,,,,, comfy (because bro did not change out of his sansish clothes) but also like FOCUSED o(≧口≦)o like horror he has the under socket line but thats just to make him look more stressed and tired

i moved around the scarf to NOT be around his neck bc it was sooo annoying drawing the hood and then having to account for the scarf. it kind gave him a baby face vibe which i did NOT like. also i think dust would wear the scarf however. very versatile as long as the scarf remains intact. so it COULD go around waist COULD be around neck COULD be around limbs

i didn't mean to do this but the black thingy around his shoulders (was originally there just to fill in the empty space without the scarf there 💀) could be seen as like mourning wear. again with the silly zipper symbolism but dust's zipper is fine its not broken like horror or killer's are because he chose to go down this path. dust CHOSE to zip it up and now its too late to go back now (so bro MUST power through ‼️‼️ he cant unzip the zipper now!!!!)

overall i like these. usually i like coming up with cool unique character designs its so fun but my trio was hard (im hard). probably bc i didnt wanna make then wear anything too weird Dx BUT NOW AT LEAST THEY ALL LOOK LESS BABY!!!! i think i depicted how i see them though like ughhh cannot explain but now they look like how i want them to sound

[moonchild701]

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Thighs, Thighs, Thighs

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[NSFW] ‼ 18+ >MDNI<

Summary: Touya is already weak for your thighs.

And then you decide to wear thigh high stockings.

Pairing: Dabi/Chubby! Female Reader

Content Warning: Smut, Face Sitting, Intercrural Sex, Cum Marking, Dabi has Genital Piercings, Plus Sized Reader, Dabi's a simp

Word Count: 2.9k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: For my fellow chubby girlies, ily 🫶🏽

My Masterlist

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Touya has a certain fixation with your thighs.

After long days, he loves to just lay his head in your comfy lap, holding you. When you straddle him, he's free to rub and squeeze them as he pleases, and he will take any and every opportunity to have them wrapped around any part of him.

He loves the jiggle of them when he smacks your ass, and squishing the plushness beneath his palm. Biting and sucking his marks into the soft flesh is one of his favourite things to do.

You in shorts or short skirts are a weakness for him; you in fishnets, lace or thigh highs are fucking lethal.

So when he's on the couch, just minding his own business, lounging in his sweats and tank top, and you come out in a pleated, black miniskirt that barely covers your ass, black, sheer thigh high stockings with lace edges, a matching lace garter belt holding them up by thin straps, and one of his white tshirts, clinging to your body but especially your tits, nipples printing through showing that you had no bra on, who could really blame him for snatching you by your waist and pulling you into his lap?

You balance yourself on his shoulders, getting yourself comfortable, before your hands slide up the side of his neck and back to tangle your fingers in his pale hair as you lean in.

Heated hands slide up and over your legs, the contrasting softness of your skin and the lace of the stockings satisfying. He gropes and fondles at your thighs, your ass and tits through your clothes, before inevitably back to your thighs, all as he kisses you slow and hot.

Trailing mismatched lips down your jaw and up to your ear, he mumbles, voice husky, "Fuck, look at you. Get all dolled-up for me, baby?". Scarred hands grope at you, one hand inching up under the skirt, the other sliding up under the tshirt.

"Hmm, maybe.", you hum, basking in his attention, moaning softly as he leaves kisses, licks and nips along your throat and collarbone, sucking pretty bruises into the skin as he goes, while pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. You love the way he gets when you dress like this.

His hand under your skirt pauses as all they meet is more skin. And he realizes that you aren't wearing any underwear at all. You feel his clothed cock twitch against your bare cunt, and you bite your lip to supress a smug smile.

"Shit." He breathes out a short, hot laugh against your neck before pulling back, "Fuck, okay. Sit on my face, baby. Please, I need to taste you."

You especially love that you could make this man, this big, bad villain, be basically at your beck and call, little more than a begging mess for you, with just the sight of your thighs and the promise of your pussy.

And seeing those wide, pretty blue eyes, looking at you with such reverance, how could you say no?

So you smile, sitting up on your knees for him to adjust. He shifts to lay on the couch properly, and his hand rests on your back, urging you to move upwards, until you're directly above him. You hold yourself steady with a hand beside you on the back of the couch, your legs framing his head, cunt hovering right over his mouth, as you hold the end of your skirt up to your stomach, biting your lip.

It's not exactly the first time you've sat on his face, and you love it of course, but it always makes you a bit nervous at first because, what if you break him? The first time he wanted you to, you asked him this and he just said, "What a way to go.", before pulling you in. So though the small nerves are there, it's drowned out by your arousal.

He grasps your thighs from behind as his eyes immediately snap to your pussy, glistening with your arousal. You see the way his pupils dilate, now just a ring of turquoise around a pool of black.

Your lips curl in a sly smile when his gaze locks on yours, eyes hungry, as he turns his head to mouth at your inner thigh after unhooking the straps and peeling down the tops of your stockings, blunt nails scraping along the skin.

You pant softly at his ministrations to the sensitive skin, smile still on your face as he laves and sucks marks into your flesh. A gasping moan is drawn out of you as he bites down on the meat of it, pussy weeping.

He pulls away, leaving the stinging mark to switch to the other thigh, his fingers digging possesively into your side, definitely leaving pretty bruises.

You're so wet you're leaking, your slick trailing down your thighs and Touya licks it right up, the flat of his hot tongue feeling branding as it slides over you, the metal of his piercing adding to that sentiment.

He groans, almost whimpering, at your taste as he shifts beneath you and you let out a breathy giggle.

At the urging tug at your hips, you finally lower yourself.

And Touya is in bliss as you sink your weight onto his face, thighs pressing to his cheeks. You feel the contrast of his healthy, soft skin and rough scars; his staples warm and digging into your skin is always surprisingly pleasant. He wraps his arms loosely over your legs, moving his hands down to rest on your thighs, moaning at your taste and the feeling of being completely surounded by you.

His flattened tongue licks a fat stripe up and through your folds, lips enveloping your throbbing clit, licking and sucking; you gasp as you release the couch to cup your breast through your shirt. Lapping at the sensitive nub, his scalding tongue swirls around it, his piercing enhancing every drag, before dipping into your wanting heat; and you moan lowly as you gently roll your hips, whining at the blunt scrape of his nails down your thighs.

Having his oxygen cut off, smothered in your sweet heat, has him completely hard and already leaking in his pants, but it's easy to ignore with your cunt and thighs suffocating him in the best of ways.

If he dies like this, he'd die a happy man.

Because he loves this. The feeling of you coming undone, thighs shaking and trembling and twitching around him, with his face buried in your hot cunt; clenching your slick walls around his tongue and rutting your clit against his nose.

He moans, slurping and panting against you ardently, the sounds filthy and wet, letting you know exactly how much he loves the taste of you and where he is.

Touya's hold on your thighs tighten as he pulls you down harder; hands heated to the point that they might just brand you.

"Come on, baby," he moans, voice slightly muffled. "Fuck my face, please."

You release your hold on your tits to tangle your fingers in his hair in a tight grip as you rock your hips, grinding over his hot tongue, the metal ball perfectly on your clit, your head thrown back as lewd moans spill from your parted lips. Your thighs squeeze around his face, practically suffocating him, and you see his eyes roll back, a deep groan vibrating through your cunt.

Your breathing and hips speed up as you pant, whining moans spilling out like spun sugar as your eyes roll shut in ecstasy when your orgasm crashes over you; your legs tremble and your breath stutters as you cum, gushing against him, slick running over his cheeks and chin, and down his throat. A gargled moan escapes him as his hips jerk up, rutting against nothing, his cock twitching as it leaks, making a mess in his sweatpants, as you ride his face through your high, dragging your sloppy pussy over his sinful tongue, using him.

Your movements stutter and broken moans fill the air, yet his mouth does not leave your heat; his hands do not move from their grip, holding you down to the sweet tortures of his tongue, licking firmly over your swollen, sensitive clit.

"Hnn, too much, Touya, baby—ahn—it's too much—"

He finally gives you reprieve and you move down to sit on his thighs, your legs still shaky, breathing still laboured, eyes hazy.

And when you finally focus enough to look at him, Touya is gorgeous.

Flushed and already looking fucked out, he peers up at you with pretty, azure eyes, glassy and hazy, and still so deliciously amorous.

You stare at him, at the glistening wetness all over his face and neck, and he holds your gaze, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, popping it into his mouth.

Your face goes all soft and needy, pretty eyes wide and wanting; lips parted before your tongue peeks out to wet them as you swallow thickly, and you see something flash in his eyes. Something hot and dangerous and mouth-watering.

He abruptly sits up, leaving you no choice but to fall back into the seat of the couch with a small squeak, and he spreads your legs, one hooked on the back of the sofa, as he grinds his hardened bulge against your tender pussy, making you gasp sharply.

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You moan softly into his mouth as you taste yourself on him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him in; fingers in his hair, dragging your nails gently over his scalp, making him shiver and press down into the kiss more firmly as he rolls his hips against you, a scarred hand sliding up and under your shirt, fondling your breasts as his other hand grips your leg, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh.

Pulling away, he sits up, kneeling, keeping your legs spread for him, running his hands across your thighs reverantly; fingers dancing along the hickeys and bitemarks littering the smooth expanse, admiring, biting his lip, before pushing your shirt up your chest, over your breasts.

He pinches and rolls a pebbled nipple between his fingers, making you squirm and whine, as he brushes his other thumb up through your slick folds, rubbing over your clit.

Panting, you watch him, a shiver running through you at the look in his eyes. It's hot and sly and so fucking sexy.

You prop yourself up on your elbows as he moves his hand from your chest and slips his cock out, the ladder of piercings along his shaft glistening with his arousal. He strokes himself idly as his eyes drink you in, before tapping the sticky head on your sensitive clit, the wet little sounds of it lewd and filthy.

Your head lolls to the side as you whimper softly at the small jolts of pleasure going through you at that, as your hands cup and fondle your own tits. Glancing up at you, he rubs the head of his cock into your clit, making a mess of it with his precum; the sight of you playing with yourself making him leak even more.

Pushing foward, he glides the shaft of his cock through your soaked folds, but he doesn't push in, making you whine as your cunt throbs.

He slowly slides back and forth, back and forth, coating his dick in your juices. Spreading you open, he dips just the head into your warm cunt, teasing your hole, before pulling back out.

The cruelty of feeling full yet so empty makes you whine and pout at him as you try to grind down onto him, because he's just toying with you dammit.

He swats at your inner thigh, smirking at the little gasping whimper you let out at the sting, before lolling open his mouth, letting his spit drip down onto your cunt and thighs, coating the marked skin there.

You make a small sound of confusion, mixed with a gasping moan, which is ignored as he grips your legs, pulling them closed and up, folding you nearly in half; your thighs pressed together, both feet over his left shoulder.

Trembling in desire, your eyes widen in realization when you feel his wet cock slide through the flesh of your thighs, hot and heavy.

Pressing a kiss just above your ankle, he sighs out, "Keep your thighs nice and tight for me, baby."

You obey, gripping your thighs around his erection. You feel him twitch against your skin, veins throbbing.

Touya grips your legs tightly as he slowly rocks forward, gliding into the tight pocket between your thighs.

"Oh fuck.", you moan as you look down, seeing the glistening head of his cock poke through them before disappearing again as he thrusts, slowly fucking your thighs.

His precum mixes with your slick in a sticky mess as each thrust has the underside of his cock gliding over your cunt, his ladder of piercings there rubbing deliciously over your clit and you shake in sensitivity and pleasure.

Fuck, he's not going to last long like this. You're too fucking pretty like this, your thighs too welcoming, your little sounds too sweet.

Ankles crossed, you wiggle your hips up and down the seat as your thighs flex, clenching rhythmically around him. "Good girl.", he groans, speeding up.

"Fuck.", you whimper at the sweet friction to your clit as your head buzzes at his desperation, feeling drunk on it. Your cunt continuously leaks, aiding the smooth slide of his thrusts.

You feel sensitive to every touch, every drag of his cock, as your second orgasm builds quickly.

Heated hands greedily squeeze and grope at your thighs and over the soft lace before he reaches up to play with your chest, squeezing and fondling, as he leans on the back of your legs, pressing your knees closer to you, folding you even more as he thrusts against you.

You squirm and writhe beneath him, your moans growing higher and louder as your pussy is so very thoroughly teased, and Touya can see that you're on that precipice yet again.

You cum with a cry as trembles wrack through your body; your thighs twitching around his length.

He thrusts a few more times, dragging out your peak before prying your legs apart and shifting a hand to his cock as he strokes himself to his completion with a deep groan.

Thick ropes of hot cum paint your thighs and pussy, a few drops staining your skirt. He presses his tip against your tender clit, smearing and rubbing his spend into you. You give a sweet, broken moan at that; at how filthy and perfect it feels to be marked up like that, claimed like that, as you watch the cum drip down your thighs obscenely.

Your breath hitches as he dips his hand between your legs, thumb swiping up his own release. He brings it up, smearing his cum on your parted lips, eyes locked on yours.

"Suck." His voice is thick and dark, gaze hot as he presses against your lips until you obey, taking it in; licking and sucking on his thumb, lapping at the cum soaked digit, making sure to get every last drop, as you moan softly at his taste.

He hums, pleased, as he pushes into your mouth, moving his thumb back and forth, fucking into it, playing with your mouth; rubbing it into the inside of your cheeks and along your gums as he watches you with lidded eyes and a wolfish grin.

And you wish it was more than just a thumb that's weighing on your tongue as you look up at Touya from under your lashes.

He pulls it out with a wet pop before pulling away fully.

You hold his gaze as you lick the remaining cum off your lips.

Wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb, you smile smugly as you watch him.

"On your knees for me, Dolly. Gotta clean me up, yeah?" Touya's expression is hungry as he looks at you, focused; like a predator stalking its prey and a shiver runs through you.

Because you do so love being his prey.

You happily get on your knees before him, thighs spread, looking up at him with such a self satisfied smile, he thinks you would purr if you could.

You lick him clean, teasing and sweet, until he's hard again, throbbing in your mouth. And then he bends you over the arm of the couch, fucking you stupid as you bounce back on his cock while he gropes and slaps at your ass and thighs, skin tender and stinging deliciously; before he fills you up till you're dripping with him.

And as you lay on the couch, spent and fucked out, covered in his marks and cum, watching his bare back walk out to the bathroom to get things to clean you up, you think to yourself.

What else can you do to make him crazy for you?

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[justjams2003]

The Saltiness of Flesh- 2

Pairing: 1968!Elvis Presley x fem!reader

Summary: After Elvis' divorce fell through and the constant non-stop touring, he finally gets a moment alone on the beach. He finds a doll, shy and almost stand-offish and things suddenly bloom between them.

Warnings: Absolutely no hate to Priscilla, I love her so much, she is mother <3 In this story, they got engaged but broke up before they got married. Barely legal reader, flirting, talk of brattiness, spanking, manual drive (I know that sacres Americans) I would say grooming but she's 18 so not? 14-year age gap. Talk of being middle-class.

Word count: 2,2k+ unedited

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @luvcsbn

Taglist: @marvelobsessed134 @atleastpleasetelephone @i5uckersblog @i-r-i-n-a-a

Part 1

You regret now not packing anything fancy for your trip, besides your church clothes. And now as you sit on the front porch of your grandpa’s old rusty beach house. You're starting to regret even more wearing said church clothes. Watching some of the girls pass by and suddenly feeling very frumpy. And even more girlies than you wanted, looking down at your white Mary-Jane heels. 

And once again the terrible feeling of repentance comes over you when you see a car much fancier than you’ve seen back in Utah show up next to the little white fence. And that feeling gut punches you even worse when the handsome Mister Presley climbs out of the fancy car in a fancier, more expensive suit. 

Blue like the sky and the sea and the birds and his eyes. And it makes his frame look so much bigger and his lips much poutier and oh no the sin has you. You’re quick to stand up when he opens the rickety fence and walks up to the steps. “I hope I didn’t keep you too long, little lady.” He speaks and makes your knees weak. 

You can hear your mother scolding you for biting your lip. ‘Stop fidgeting!’ She echos in the back of your head and the teenager in you wants to groan. You shake your head no, lying since you’ve been ready since 9 o’clock this morning. Anxiety running laps around in your head. “Well, I’m glad.” His voice is even sweeter than you remember.  

He reaches out for you. Taking your soft upper arm into his large hand, covered by the leather of the jacket he borrowed you. “You look mighty fine.” He says, those tantalizing blue eyes taking all of you in. You know you’re red by the way your face feels hot. “Oh, thanks, I-uh, didn’ exsactly plan a-uh date w’en I was packin’.” You mumble cursing your accent for making you sound like a true Utahn. Not cool. 

“No, no,” he interrupts, shaking his head. His other hand is on his lips, as if he’s stopping himself from saying more than he really should. “This is, uh, this is just fine, youngin.” He speaks and when he has a Southern accent it makes you feel all gooey inside. “This is just fine...” He repeats, guiding you to his fancy car. 

You feel out of place in between the expensive leather and millions of buttons that your grandpa’s old pickup truck doesn’t have. And you feel much smaller than you believe yourself to be when he sits down in the driver's seat. His thighs are spread out in that suit and he has the seat pushed back so far that he looks so comfortable to be driving. 

“You can relax, youngin’, I promise you ain’t gon’ break nothin’. And hell if you do it ain’t the end of the world, I probably won’t even notice.” He assures you with this gentle smile. And you have to look up at him as if he is a god speaking his word down to you. You’ve been trained so well to listen to the man in church and you’re eager to be given a guide to follow. 

“Okay, Mister Presley.” He groans and you can’t help but watch as his strong leg presses down on the clutch and changes gears. You’re half in awe when he so easily pushes down the car’s handbrake since you yourself can’t even get it down with two hands. Much to your own father’s disappointment. 

“Don’t call me that either. You make me sound old like my father. I ain’t that old yet...” He says, shifting into second gear and driving down the roads of California. “I’m sorry, Elvis...how old are yah anyways?” He stiffens slightly and now you’re kicking yourself. Again your mother screams in the back of your head for your manners. 

He grips the steering wheel and you're quick to mutter an apology. His eyes go wide and he shakes his head. Elvis’ hand is suddenly on your thigh when he comforts you. “No need to apologize, little one. I’m uh, 32.” Now you’re glad your birthday is so early in the year. 

His eyes give a worried glance over to you, his brows pluck together, and then back to the road. “I hope that’s not too old for yah?” You bite your lip and can feel the poke of skin against your tongue. “No, no, we’re uh, both adults ‘ere.” This does make him smile. “Good...good...” 

Then it’s silent between you two, you’re painfully aware of how much bigger his hand is on your thigh. “How’re you experiencin’ California so far?” You’re quick to answer this, having thought of it plenty. “It’s cold.” This does cause him to chuckle. “It’s summer, sweet thang.” You shrug your shoulders simply. 

“That’s why I didn’ pack any jackets. It’s much hotter back home and I miss that...and the food. Grandpa has been feedin' me nothin’ but the fish he caught...since I couldn’t catch anythin’.” Your mother’s voice echoes again, ‘Stop rambling!’ You look away, blushing. “I’m sorry, I’m ramblin’.” Again he smiles, shaking his head. 

“No, no, it’s alright, darlin’. I like listenin’ to yah speak.” He explains, then turns his signal on. “If you’re tired o’ fish, I’ll take yah to the best burger place I know.” You can’t help but smile, the thought sounds fantastic. A nice big, juicy, messy burger. 

A cute diner, classic sixties. Red and white stripes with checkered black and white floors. The doorbell rings, and everyone raises their head. Inspecting him, there is no air to breathe here because all must be spared for him and only him. A clumsy waiter, with weak knees stumbles towards the two. “H-hi, Mr Presley, I'm uh, Stacy, I'll be your waiter today.” 

Her brows pluck together, but not Stacy’s, no, she's far too excited to ever be worried to ever be confused. And as the red plastic cushion caves under the weight of the superstar, the furrow stays. “What's got yah all confused, yittle one?” His voice seems to smooth the sharp plastic poking in her back. “Does everyone but me know who you are?” 

A hearty chuckle, one that somehow spans a smile on anyone nearby’s face. “I'm surprised you don't know, yittle one.” The plastic laminate of the tabletop suddenly seems very interesting. “This is my first time out o’ my farm.” He leans back, and the plastic squeaks. His thighs spread out across the tacky red, thick like a tree stump you could easily climb. 

His arms rest on the back of the cushion seat. His first buttons open, shoving the curly hair on his chest. And he smirks, knowing that while the mind is innocent, the body easily wanders and gazes over. “That's alright, sweet thang. I like it like that.” Her head tilts to the side, his hips shift. “Why?” 

Elvis shrugs his wide shoulders. “Means yah like me, and not what the idea of me.” He's sure she's able to hear his heartbeat, or maybe she can't because she doesn't say anything. Instead just looks away, at the beach not far from the diner. “Yah like the beach?” 

He asks because he'll gladly move to the coast if that's what it has to take to have her. “I do…” Her answer is more forlorn and not really all there. “This is my first time seein’ it…I wish my mama and papa could've come wit’. I feel…lost here.” She's practically begging for a guiding hand like him. ”Lost?” Elvis asks as if he doesn’t know that it’s him she’s yearning for.  

“This place ‘s so big and nobody really...sees you here.” She brings her hands forward, picking at the cuticle of her nail and he doesn’t like that. He too leans forward, small hands enveloped by much bigger ones. Chunky golden rings contrast against the delicacy of her soft hands. “I see you.” A small smile, one that doesn’t believe, plays on her features. 

And then a shrug, “I feel you see me more than anyone else ever has...is that crazy to say to someone you just met?” He knows exactly what she means because when he looks at her he sees everything he’s always wanted. Everything that he can so easily make her to be. He knows deep down that she doesn’t want to work and she’s clearly far too shy for others. 

He can tell it could so easily be just him for her. “Not at all.” 

Nibble fingers pick at the small imperfections of rings too expensive to have imperfections. With jewels bigger than her fingernails and shinier than sunlight. “Yah like my rings, yittle one?” With a curt nod, he slides one off his finger and then onto hers. But it doesn’t fit, the ring is too big and just sort of hangs. “I’ll have one made for yah.” 

Her eyes are quick to meet his, wide and shocked, and her eyelashes blink rapidly. “What?” Elvis’ iconic smirk shows. “Yah heard me.” Her jaw hangs slack, “You will not.” The same smirk stays. “An’ why not?” Her plump bottom lip gets captured between her teeth before being let go again when she speaks. “It’s too much.” There is no such thing as too much for Elvis Presley. 

“Call it a gift.” Her eyes strangely avoid his, looking back down at the flashing gold. “Gifts like that mean somethin’ much more serious than uh summer fling.” He almost growls at the thought of her just being a mere blip in his life. No, she needs to be here and now and always. “An’ if I want somethin’ more than a summer fling?”  

She sighs, letting go of his hands. She leans back against the plastic red cushion seat, her arms crossed. Suddenly the beach is once again much more interesting than he is. “It won’ work. I ain’t what yah want.” He doesn’t like this, this sudden defiance. He’s done no wrong. Only ever wanted to give her a gift and now she’s gone all pouty. Even denying him his right to see her pretty face. 

“Stop bein’ such a brat about this. You’ll let me do this for yah and stop bein’ all pouty about it too.” What on earth is he doing to you? All cheeky quips and snappy returns fall from your body like a snake sheds. Revealing only a vulnerable little girl who squeezes her thighs together, his words making her feel...hot... 

He does see, he does instantly see when she shifts in her seat and her ears go pink. Elvis knows well what this little squirm means, but it doesn’t seem like you do? “I’m not a brat.” He loves this, “Oh, yougin’, you’ve been all bratty since we met. Huffin’ and puffin’, rolling your eyes. I won’t stand this attitude much longer, yittle girl.” 

Now that really does get her going, cheeks as red as a tomato and he can see the lust behind her eyes. He hasn’t once stopped grinning. “You’re not my father...though you’re certainly old enough tah be.” He can’t help but laugh at her audacity. While it most definitely is true, he didn’t think she’d have the guts to say something like that. 

“Uh sure am yougin’. Older, bigger, stronger...I’ll toss you over my knee and give you a good old-fashioned spanking if you keep this up. Rollin’ your eyes at me like I’m your frien’, I’ll be dead before I have a brat disrespect me like that...” He mumbles the last part but you most definitely heard all of it. Where on earth did that come from? And why do you suddenly feel like you’re sitting on volcanic rocks? 

Everything’s hot, far too hot. And the way that he grins, knowing just how you feel makes you feel almost nauseously needy with a feeling an innocent one like you doesn’t have a name for. But Elvis knows lust when he sees it. And he likes seeing you all messy. Not knowing up or down and just him. 

“What’s all this blushin’ for? Getting all worked up over me bein’ all big an’ bossy?” The only sound that escapes the 18-year-old, is a giggle that she doesn’t quite know where it comes from. The type you do when your crush looks at you in the halls, all school girl. She bites down on her knuckle, hoping it doesn’t happen again.  

“Yah like the idea o’ me tossin’ yah over my knee? ‘Cause I’ll do it, ain’t nothin’ to laugh about.” A deep shudder escapes you, this...this is wrong. So very wrong. No man that isn’t your father should ever be speaking to you like that...right? And this must be an incredible amount of shame that you’re feeling, that’s why you’re all hot and bothered, right?  

As if you’re a dog panting, trying to cool yourself off, you sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. “I think, I uh, need tah go freshen up.” He again spreads his legs as he leans back. Now both his arms are on the backrest, his shirt lifts slightly and he does catch the little lady looking. “That’s alright, sweet girl, you go do that.” 

And as if you were waiting for him to grant permission, you lift your little bum like a good girl and b-line it for the little ladies' room. And just then, Elvis realises he hasn’t thought about her once... 

So this one might not be as good as the last part, but part 3 is going to be so delicious (smut), I pinky promise.

If you want to be added or removed from the taglist, just ask!

[madaqueue]

Dripping in Gold | Chapter 5

synopsis: finding a job was never easy, and why even bother trying after you meet satoru gojo, a man with mysterious and exorbitant wealth, who wants nothing more than to spoil you with it? the only caveat to your little arrangement is that it can never, ever, become personal.

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader [toji fushiguro x f!reader]

themes/content: non-curse modern au, sugar daddy gojo. language, angst, smut. alcohol mention, masturbation (f), brief oral (m receiving), touch denial, sex. 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.2k

a/n: toji girlies this one's for you (please forgive me for how i write this man though lmao)!

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Pulling your car into his driveway, you're struck by just how suburban the area is - there are trees lining the shady sidewalks, dogs barking through fenced-in yards, and soft sounds of lawnmowers in the distance. Certainly not a place you’d expect to be meeting someone like Toji, but you don’t mind, as any physical distance between places that remind you of Gojo are more than welcomed.

Walking up the path to the front door, you notice the manicured bushes lining the walkway and can’t help but picture someone as tough-looking as Toji on his knees, meticulously trimming them into the perfect spherical shape, the idea making you giggle to yourself as you ring the doorbell.

The maroon door swings open, revealing a man who perfectly matches his images online - raven-black hair, dark green eyes, a small scar on the corner of his lips - except he is so much taller in-person. He’s wearing a similar too-tight black t-shirt as the ones in his pictures with loose joggers, leaving his true size still up to your imagination. You crane your neck up to look at him as a smirk forms against the side of his mouth.

“You comin’ in?” he asks, his voice deeper than you expected.

Stepping inside, you notice just how homey it feels, with warm wood floors and red and orange hues accenting the entryway space. He gestures for you to follow him down the hall past closed doors, pictures lining the walls. You don’t pay much attention to them until you suddenly realize they’re all empty, all except for one. In the single frame you see a young boy, likely no older than ten, who looks like a spitting image of Toji. His dark fluffy hair falls into his face and his eyes are closed through a smile, surrounded by two puppies, a black one on his lap and the other white one licking his cheek. The image fills your heart with warmth, the scene so sweet and innocent.

“Is that your son?” you ask without thinking, but by the time you realize you probably shouldn’t be asking questions about this man’s personal life, it’s too late.

Fortunately, Toji doesn’t seem too bothered, a curt “Yep,” the only response he gives you.

Finally, you reach a room at the end of the hallway. Inside is a large bed adorned with dark red sheets, lit softly by lamplight and sunlight scattering in through the red curtains.

Well, I guess he has a favorite color, you think to yourself, grateful you happened to pick out red lingerie for the visit - it was the only set Gojo hadn’t bought for you, the rest of which were shoved in the back of your closet to avoid remembering your time with him.

“Take off your dress,” Toji’s husky voice sounds from behind you. You lift the black cloth above your head, folding it and setting it on a nearby dresser, trying not to let your nervousness show through the action.

“Lay down on the bed,” he commands.

Doing as he says, you make your way across the room and lean your back against the comforter, soft against your bare skin. He was certainly more direct than Gojo, but you didn’t mind - it takes away all of the guessing in terms of what he wants you to do, and at the end of the day you’re just here for your money, not for feelings. Besides, it truthfully turned you on a little bit to be told what to do like this, the familiar heat starting to build in your stomach before he’s even touched you.

“Play with yourself,” he states, voice flat. “Do it until you cum.”

For some reason, his tone of near boredom had your cheeks flushing. You feel a deep desire, a need, to do as he says, to please him.

Your gaze shifts up to meet his as you insert two fingers into your mouth, gathering up saliva before moving them between your legs. Pulling your red lace painties to the side, you begin slowly circling your clit, soft moans leaving your mouth as you maintain eye contact with him. The scene, him fully clothed, not even laying a finger on you while he watches you writhe under your own touch, does something to you; you feel yourself approaching your release sooner than expected.

Speeding up the action of your hand, your eyes threaten to close as you whine. “Toji, I’m close.”

He grunts in response, moving his own hand down to palm the growing bulge in his pants.

Tension tugs at you as you approach your orgasm, your head falling back into the bed as you slightly arch off it. His name leaves your lips through a moan as you carry yourself through your high, your fingers finally slowing their motion against your bud.

Panting softly, you reopen your eyes to see Toji standing at the foot of the bed, suddenly naked. Sitting up on, you crawl towards him as your eyes glance over his body, just as muscular as you imagined. His biceps fill out the space to his shoulders, abs covering his stomach with defined ripples lining his ribcage. Above all, he was huge. As your eyes trail down to his cock, you can’t help but gasp in surprise as you take in his thickness.

One of his hands reaches down to the side of your face, his thumb trailing to your mouth before he slowly slides it between your lips. You look up at him while softly sucking on his finger and a smirk flashes across his face. “Open your mouth.”

Immediately you follow his order, sticking your tongue out slightly as he takes the hand from your face and grabs the base of his cock. He brings it up to your lips, placing his tip against your tongue while he takes in the image of you on your knees, staring up at him, lust in your eyes as you wait to be told what to do.

“Now, stay just like that,” he instructs as his hand moves to the back of your head, holding you firmly in place. His hips begin to slide forward, pushing himself into your mouth and down your throat. You manage to get nearly all of his length down before you choke on him; he swiftly pulls away from you as you gasp for air.

“S-sorry,” you stutter, trying to ignore the roughness in the back of your throat.

“Don’t worry,” he smirks, “you actually managed to get farther than most.” Looking up at him, he continues, “Besides, you have two other perfectly good holes that I’m sure can take me just fine.”

His words make you dizzy, your thighs rubbing together in desperation as you await the thing you haven’t been able to stop thinking about since you got here: him fucking you.

“Lay back down.” Your back hits the sheets again, legs spreading instinctively in preparation. “Good girl,” he says, using the opportunity to pull your panties down off your legs before tossing them on top of your dress across the room. Reaching over into the drawer of the bedside table, he pulls out a condom and rips it open with his teeth, tossing the wrapper to the side as he sheaths it over his cock. He locks eyes with your dripping pussy as he centers himself against your entrance. Pushing his tip slowly into you, a moan leaves your throat at the stretch. Once sufficiently inside you, he leans over your body, his torso hovering above you.

“Ready?” he asks and you nod, biting down on your lip in excitement.

He thrusts himself into you with a grunt. The sudden sensation of him filling you makes you nearly scream in pleasure as you try to adjust to his size. A breathy chuckle leaves his lips as he pulls out, not giving you time to readjust before he shoves his hips back against you.

Just from two thrusts you feel lightheaded, unable to comprehend the sensation of him inside you. You don’t think you’ve ever been this stretched, this full, before in your life. But Toji doesn’t relent, rutting in and out of you as your eyes threaten to roll back.

Trying to ground yourself, you reach your hands up to him, wrapping around his back as one goes into his hair.

“What are you doing?” his rough voice pulling you momentarily out of your daze. “I didn’t say you could touch me.”

Right. You drop your hands back to your sides, clutching into the sheets as waves of bliss rack your body with each thrust.

In the back of your mind, you find yourself thinking about him - of Satoru. He let you touch him. Hell, he loved when you touched him. He practically purred when you ran your hands through his hair, almost whining with need when you traced down his chest. And you loved when he touched you, the way he would lazily draw his lanky fingers up and down your back or how his thumb would rub circles against your thigh whenever he sat next to you.

You wish he was here. You wish he was the one fucking you.

Pulling you out of your thoughts, you notice Toji’s movements suddenly get shallow and irregular, a sign he’s nearing his climax. You can’t deny the physical pleasure you’re experiencing in spite of the emotional pain from not having Satoru here; the feeling of Toji’s cock inside you is enough to at least momentarily forget about the man you’re missing.

His movements suddenly stop, his eyes closing as a groan rumbles from his throat. You feel his cock twitching inside you as his balls pump cum into the condom.

You were close to finishing too, but of course, he doesn’t seem particularly interested in that right now. Before you can grind your hips against him to try and satisfy yourself, he pulls out suddenly and straightens himself, standing at the end of the bed, leaving you sprawled in front of him.

“Alright,” he says flatly while peeling the used condom off and tossing it in the trashcan near the door, “I’ll go get your money. You can get dressed now.”

He turns to leave, but you stop him with a soft whine. “D-don’t you want me to finish, too?”

He scoffs at you, turning his head to look at you out of the corner of his eyes. “That’s not my fucking job, now is it?” Grabbing the door handle, he leaves you alone in the room.

Tears start to sting at your eyes, the mix of pleasure, longing, desperation, frustration, and pain becoming too much for you. You look around the foreign room and wish you were anywhere else.

Satoru wouldn’t have treated you like this. He always cared about you, always made sure you were enjoying sex just as much as he was; sometimes it almost felt like his only job, only purpose, was to make you feel good. There were nights where he didn’t even fuck you, he just went down on you for hours like he was kneeling at the altar of his own personal god.

Not only that, but he always took care of you after, making sure to cover your body in kisses, holding you close in the backseat of his car or whatever other location you two ended up in when your desire for each other became too much. He’d tell you how good you made him feel, how sweet you are, how perfect, any compliment he could think of he’d babble out to you until you’d shut him up with a kiss, being able to feel his grin through it. God, what you wouldn’t give to see that stupid smile now.

The door handle suddenly turns as a now fully-clothed Toji steps in. “You’re not dressed,” he observes as he walks to the dresser, throwing your belongings toward you where you still sit on the bed.

Your hands fumble at the clothes, sliding the dress back over your head and your panties onto your legs without a word.

Toji extends his hand out to you, and for a moment you think it’s to help you up, before you look down and see him holding a fistfull of cash. “One thousand, as promised.”

You hesitantly reach your hand out to take it, a soft, “Thanks,” leaving your lips as you stand up on your own.

“I’ll show you out,” he continues, tone devoid of any hint of emotion towards you.

Silently following him back out the hallway, you can’t help but let your eyes linger on the picture of his son.

What a sweet kid. I hope he never turns out like his father.

Finally outside, you sit in the darkness of your car, allowing the silence to fall over you as you process the events that unfolded. You just had what was so close to being amazing sex, and getting paid for it, but all you can think about is Satoru. Closing your eyes all you can picture is the bright blue of his, the feeling of his skin stamped into the corners of your mind.

Fuck.

Not knowing what else to do, you turn on your car and pull up directions to a bar you saw on your drive over.

I need a fucking drink.

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[jiraisupportgroup]

Hi, there. I'm a 22-year-old Jirai Kei lifestyler who just started being a part of the subculture. I normally wear Menhera style Subcul and Dark Girly for my style of clothing. I have a particular question I want answered. I know that Jirai is about the lifestyle and not much about the clothes, but I have certain beef with people who think that only "real landmines" wear girly kei and that Jirai Kei promotes dangerous self-destructive behaviors, which I have dubbed "the girly kei police". So my question is this: can somebody who is wearing yami kawaii most of the time and also mentally ill, but not suffering from an eating disorder, still be apart of the subculture? Thank you so much for your help.

I'm pretty relaxed about it & I'm also not an expert or like spokesperson for Jirai Kei but in my opinion:

No you do not have to have an eating disorder to be part of the Jirai Kei community.

I think a lot of people don't realize the difference between promoting self-destructive behaviours vs having a space to talk about them without judgement. When you're dealing with stuff like that it is important to have a space where you can talk about it without fear of being ridiculed or having someone called on you. It's even harder to deal with those things when you're demonized for the feelings that you have and treated like you're a monster or an awful person ykwim? (I think that was kind of besides the point)

But you don't have to have any specific issue to be part of the Jirai Kei community. I've seen questions like "do I have to SH" "do I have to have an ED" "do I have to do SW" and the answer is always no. You do not have to do those things! The one thing I will say is you should be aware that there is a lot of discussion and imagery of those things in the community, and be generally understanding or prepared for that. I personally have a lot of ed tags filtered because I don't want to try to talk down to or take away spaces for people to talk about or vent about those things, but I don't want to see it. So I just like block it and let them have their space and I can have mine, you know? (As long as they're not actively hurting/bullying anyone - that's where I personally draw the line).

Jirai Kei is a community for people who know what it's like to be in a dark place. Everyone is at different stages, from not being ready to recover, all the way to having been in recovery for years, and everyone's struggles are different. The specific struggles themselves are not what makes someone Jirai Kei, we all just love cute stuff and we're mentally struggling that's kind of our main connector.

In my opinion, if you find peace or relatability in the community, come hang out with us!

[artwithoutblood]

I’m enjoying the headcanons. We’ve seen Eri and now Aeron, now wondering about the rest of the girlies.

I can’t decide if Genesis bleaches his hair or uses henna. (Or it’s natural?) I feel like he takes a multipurpose product on tour to save room in his backpack so he smells like an orange/cinnamon/patchouli 2-in-1 shampoo + body bar or just uses grapefruit scented body wash on his hair and body. Maybe it’s just a bar of bubblegum scented soap from a pack bought for Micah. But then from his flag he’s a PoC and he has such long hair so he might also bring ten kinds of conditioning products with clashing scents.

I feel like he might enjoy chewing gum, like Juicy Fruit. Or Red Hots. He seems like the type to enjoy spicy salty or crunchy food, jiggle his leg or foot and chew on pens or toothpicks. (Or guitar picks.)

I’ve already headcanoned that Dorian reads middle aged mom romances alone in his library and possibly also reads the ones Erebus writes (if Eri doesn’t keep those secret that is - which he well might). While Dori suppresses gestures to seem calm and in control in front of the Fallen, he stims while writing letters by stroking and twiddling the ends of his hair. He drinks fruity tea and uses eucalyptus shampoo as a reprieve from the monotonous smell of dust and ashes. I wonder if he likes Parma violets.

Kayn rolls up an extra fur to slip inside his nest or bedroll beside him, to trap warm air and block the drafts. Or so he claims. He hugs the fur pillow as he hums himself to sleep and the Northern wind howls outside. He likes pemmican.

Apologies, I know very little about Ambrose but maybe he mixes drinks he imagines would taste like or appeal to you. Maybe you’re unknowingly the muse for the weekly special.

[I deleted my headcanons about how Eri can be both ace and bi as per his chart - and people can connect between them in a few ways - because it felt really intrusive to pick that apart. Can elaborate if wanted.]

Between his coffee creamer and the old books Eri possibly smells of vanillin, with a sharp tang that could be cigarettes, ink, venom, rubbing alcohol or formaldehyde. Or due to the oversensitivity to smells he carefully keeps himself not smelling of anything.

[Deleted my speculations on Aeron’s orientation and gender because while I have a strong sense of who I think they are it seems rude/nosy to say. And they seem to prefer not to.]

Aeron craves affection and likes having varied sensual/sensory experiences. Paint is up there but is not the only one. They seek out social and visual stimulation constantly and flirt socially with everyone because they just love to connect. I feel like they may enjoy strong perfume or cologne, going between both and varying the scents depending on the day. They seem like a jasmine sort of person but also mix it up with leather or cedarwood.

genesis packs literally an entire suitcase of hair products. being a demon means his hair color can be whatever, but that doesn't mean the hair just fixes itself. black vanilla shampoo, shea moisture. genesis probably falls into the 2C hair type. genesis braids micah's hair. he loves spicy food (even more than aeron) and can often by found chewing cinnamon or watermelon flavored gum.

i'm sure someone has brought him parma violets. dorian keeps a courtyard to grow fruits and flowers if he can. the smell of dusty books and the outside ash gets to him. he probably wears a flowery cologne as a result. he stims. he taps his pen against paper. he twirls his hair.

kayn does what he can to stay warm. there are pockets of warm air in the caves. his childhood bedroom still has a draft. he lines every piece of clothing with fur and sleeps twofold. he loves his dried berries and meat.

ambrose is a very intimate man. he wants to make you feel special when you first come to his bar (so you recommend him tk friends and come back another day!). he always plays 40s music. ella fitzgerald, frank sinatra. he keeps a vial of blood to drink from or to use in cocktails.

erebus is, as the books say, just a little guy. :)

he smells like alcohol and cigarettes - but in the smoke and sterile way. he tries to cover it with eucalyptus and orange. he stresses out, he turns to cigarettes. he tends to wallow in his own self-pity. aeron tells him he can smoke without damaging an already dying body if he just lets it die. once. erebus refuses. he coughs into his elbow and rolls his eyes.

aeron likes black cherry and jasmine. they smell like tea on some days; it's a preferred drink to coffee. they love social interaction. huge extrovert, but they aren't one to yell. they love whispers and gossip, and when they need to tune out, they thankfully can; it just takes a long stare out the window. give them a good party. give them a good ball.

[evangeline444]

glance, stature, stillness, night, texture, makeup, and change for the girl ever Dhaveria pls <33

THE CREATORS FAVORITE WEIRD GIRL!!

Glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC’s appearance? What’s their distinguishing features?

Dhaveira is albino so her pale skin, white hair and red eyes tend to grab people’s attention almost immediately. Her eyes especially tend to draw attention because of the contrast between red eyes and pale skin. Can i say that her distinguishing feature is that she kind of looks like a ghost?

Stature: What’s your OC’s body type? How tall are they? Do they wear clothing to accentuate their look or do they try to mask it?

Girly is 4’9”, birdboned and wispy as fuck. You could pick her up and put her in your pocket if you wanted to. I don’t think she really intentionally wears clothes to hide or accentuate her stature. She is pretty neutral about her stature most of time and doesn’t really mind if her wardrobe happens to accentuate it(unless someone is specifically poking fun at her about it)

Stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves?

She fidgets a lot, she spends alot of her time with the dead trying to claw their way back to the world through her and it leaves her restless and unable to relax. Because of this she wears a lot of little charms and bracelets that she can fidget with when her restlessness is particularly intense. Her clothes also have quite a lot of embroidery from her brother that she likes to trace over mindlessly. Her clothes and the additions she has made to them make it alot easier for her to stand still without feeling like she’s going to jump out of her own skin.

Night: What does your OC wear to sleep? Do they have a favorite pair of PJs, or are they more the birthday suit type?

She tends to wear nightgowns to bed, as i mentioned above most of her clothes have embroidery done by her brother and that includes her PJs. She also definitely steals articles of clothing from her loved ones to use as PJs sometimes because it makes her feel safe.

Texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can’t wear or don’t like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?

Dhaveira has a very strong preference for fabrics with soft texture. She’s really sensitive to different textures and absolutely despises rough or scratchy textures, it makes her feel all itchy and makes her want to take off her skin (surprise surprise the weirdgirl is autistic and has sensory issues)

Makeup: Does your OC wear makeup? How often? What kind? Why do they wear makeup, do they like it?

I don’t think she wears makeup often, and when she does she really doesn’t wear much maybe a little bit of eyeshadow to draw more attention to her eyes and maybe some red or pink lip tint. Her cheeks are always really rosy so she has no need for blush. I think she likes accentuating her features, especially her eyes so she genuinely enjoys the rare occasions that she gets to do makeup.

Change: Has your OC drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

Her appearance hasn’t changed much over the years, beyond her hair being significantly longer and the addition of more valaslin to her body. Besides the valaslin on her face she now has some on her hands, forearms, chest and back and she will likely continue to add more to it as time goes on. She is very proud of this change, because each valaslin marks a milestone in her life and her efforts to honor Falon’din. Her wardrobe has also changed slightly, mostly out of necessity because she was previously used to a much colder climate and now has had to adapt her wardrobe to a wider variety of climates.

[birdsinmywalls]

This has been SUCH a pleasure to read. The drama made sense and was written well and the smut was detailed and a little sweet? Even though he’s a gruff guy. I loved the way you tied up the ending. So glad I stumbled across this fic and I’m excited to dive into whatever else you have written! Because if this is the standard you write in, everyone should feel lucky that you aren’t charging because it’s THAT good!

“If anything, he gives them more attention than he gives you, delivering his deadpan jokes and exchanging quips during training.” Seems to me like he’s in a good mood because he got laid but I don’t know him as well as reader lol

“It feels silly to admit that maybe you had hoped that Ghost wouldn’t be content with just being your first, that maybe he’d want to be your second, your third.” It’s not silly to want things!

“Ghost had so confidently taken a seat next to you on the same fucking squishy little couch that you had shared last week.” Ghost is a man of few words lol this seems like a promising move from him!

“you wish he would give you some indication of where you stand,” girlie maybe just pull him to the side and ask? I think a direct rejection would be better than this middle ground you guys are on

“Over the last week, you’ve tried very hard not to be a stereotype.” Ugh it sucks when the pressures and stereotypes get to us and make us feel crazy

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

“He’s sort of cute. A charming smile, at least. When he sees you looking back, he only smiles wider and steps closer.” Sort of cute? Bestie let’s not even play games. If you are telling yourself he’s sort of cute he’s not worth it

“ It makes you jolt, startled, recognising Ghost by touch alone. It feels as though it sears straight through your clothes, and your eyes widen.” Uh oh looks like someone is jealous!

“Mm.” Ghost grunts. “What were you doing?” Love that he’s bothered

“Oh god, the Captain is watching you get hauled off — how mortifying.” Yikes yeah I don’t know what to say about that. Everyone is gunna know now

“And then as soon as another guy speaks to me, you’re over to me like a light. I mean, what the fuck?” And then, remembering the chain of command, you add a very sullen, “Sir.” LOL I love it

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

“Besides,” He cuts clean across you, but so gently, so much so that it surprises you. “I think we long surpassed professionalism when you asked if you could use my cock like a dildo.” Let’s be accountable Ghost! YOU were the one that said “let me try” last chapter and ate her out for an hour. The line was crossed by you first technically

““I was trying to give you space, doll.” He murmurs. “It was your first– I didn’t want to overwhelm you. Wanted you to make your own choices.” I have to say I almost always hate a miscommunication trope but this one is done so well in a way that makes sense for the situation and I am loving it

“There’s a long moment of silence during which Ghost just stares at you. It’s borderline uncomfortable, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. Even with the mask acting as a barrier, he’s still so intense” to have a character like ghost who barely speaks and wears a mask that hides expression you do a very good job of showing his micro expressions and twitches to show what he’s thinking

“Promising start.” He says, and you want to smack him.” LOL Snarky Ghost is Top tier

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

“Knew you’d be good at this. Look at you, messy little thing. Fuckin’ gorgeous.” Love how many compliments he gives her. He was sweet to her in the first part too

“He’s built like a fucking god; thick muscles, soft tummy, and cushiony pecs. It might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.” Swoons

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

“Your jaw clenches in determination. “I need to be on top.” Woo! Get it girl!

“The guy at the bar.” Ghost clarifies, his voice deep and a little irritated. “The one who was all over you. Would you have gone back with him?” Oh yeah ghost? I thought earlier you said “that’s not what I was talking about” looks like you WERE jealous

“To see him glowing with sweat, his mouth lolled open under his rumpled balaclava as he snarls and grunts and fucks into you like an animal feels like a drug so heady you know you’re already addicted.” Same!

“As long as you’ll have me.” He says, low in the quiet of the room. His tone is thick with significance,” love it! He’s such a sweetheart when he actually communicates lol

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

part one | part two

🍓 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader

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

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s harder than it sounds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re only talking, Lieutenant–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But your self-preservation instincts are still missing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not–”

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

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

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

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

“C’mere.” He says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It takes you a moment to process that. 

“You– what?”

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

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

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

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

Oh. Well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know.” You say stupidly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe.” You mutter evasively.

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

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

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

“You don’t have to.” He says quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thought you wanted to do it yourself?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You slap at his belly hard, writhing away. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You,” You say.

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

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

[bubbledumbbinch]

Okay so can I ask for some general headcanons for a Fem!MC in twst? The game has gender-neutral pronouns for the MC so far and it's an all boys school. How do you think the characters reaction/interactions would change if the MC was female? (if all are too much you can just pick your faves, maybe just include the octa and Savannahclaw dorm?) Just your thoughts and some brainrot💖

I think the boys would definitely be a lot more flirtatious to fem!MC!!! (I just wanna call her FeMC so I could say… fem… with a c at the end LOL). This is an all boys school, what do you expect?!

These are mostly short I’m sorry! I wanted to try to fit everyone in!

Ramshackle

Grim would lay at night curled up beside you. On days when your period hit, Grim would sense you in pain and get near your abdomen and purr. He feels like it’s an instinctual thing to do and if if helps out his minion, he’ll do it! Plus there’s tuna in it for him, right? Pet his ears too!

Heartslabyul

Riddle would definitely blush when you are around, but not too heavily! Sure he finds you attractive but it won’t stop him from fulfilling his duties as a dorm leader! He can’t help himself when he gets flustered talking to you since the only woman he grew up around was his strict mother. Since you’re different compared to her, he can’t tell but feel warmth from you which he wants to keep in his heart.

Ace and Deuce would make jokes at each other’s expense, both of them sorta going neck and neck trying to compete for your attention! They know you guys are just friends… unless..? 😳 Ace would make the snarky remarks while Deuce would threaten to beat Ace up.

Trey would act the same towards you, knowing he has to be a respectful upperclassman! You ALMOST can’t tell he sets aside the cupcake with more fruits or decoration on it for you at the Unbirthday party. Trey would give his signature smirk and wink as he sets it down in front of you.

Cater would take you on shopping sprees and outings to have so many photo opportunities with NRC’s only female student! Girls would flood his comments asking if you were his girlfriend, but he never answered. He secretly hopes you like him back so you could do cute couple things together like match outfits!

Savannaclaw

Leona would still call you herbivore and treat you the same as always. Still as lazy as before. However he can’t help but show off when he plays Magift and you happen to be watching. He lowkey stares at your features and shape of your body when you’re not looking 👀

Ruggie would also mostly act the same towards you, but he would bump into you on purpose so he can have an excuse to touch or smell you! His body tingles when he can smell your scent on the blazer he accidentally knocked into you with! Still treats you the same as ever though!

Jack would be gentler towards you, he knows how rough and big his body is, he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you! His personality is still the same, don’t think he’ll treat you any differently because you’re a girl!

Octavinelle

Azul would try to make shady deals with you to offer you protection against students who may be too forward with you since you’re a girl. In exchange? For you to work at the lounge! and spend time with him. He secretly likes you but would never tell you to uphold his reputation and he is also afraid of rejection ;w; Azul would also not mind seeing you wearing the lounge uniform, fufufu…

Jade would would act more like a butler type! You also find him nearby sometimes, feeling his striking gaze looking at you. He’s always there when someone is trying to confess to you and you look uncomfortable. “Oya oya, do you need some help, miss?” His voice teasingly echoes through the halls, scaring off the guy who was trying to hit on you. Jade would stretch out his hand and escort you to wherever you needed to go.

Honestly? Unless you had a super “girly” appearance, Floyd wouldn’t have noticed until he gave you a hug to squeeze you, noticing your body was different… more squishy... and your bone structure is different. Shrimpy is so squeezable!!! Huh? He has to be wary of your chest? He’ll just lift you up by your tummy! You being a girl doesn’t stop the hug train!

Scarabia

Kalim wouldn’t treat you any differently! He would still definitely invite you over as often as possible, not realizing his sweetness may come off as flirtatious! Might develop a small crush on you :) imagines all the pretty outfits he could buy you from his homeland

Jamil would at first be wary of you but once he realizes you aren’t a threat to Kalim or the school, he stops doubting you. Definitely isn’t the type to judge you differently based on your gender!

Pomefiore

Vil would smirk and think he finally has someone else to practice makeup on! He definitely uses you as a model to show off his products, whether it be makeup, skincare, clothing, etc!

Rook would be… protective. He likes you because you’re different, and he would subtly follow and stake you out to see what things you’re doing differently at NRC as a girl. Rook offers silent protection against those he sees as a threat to you before you can even notice.

Epel would definitely try to prove his manliness in front of you if Vil isn’t in the vicinity! Going out of his way to carry heavy items, be tough, etc. If YOU tell him he’s manly, it’s certainly gotta mean something right?!

Ignihyde

Idia thinks it’s like some sort of anime trope, you’re the female protagonist and it’s like a reverse harem because the whole school is full of boys! Cough cough breaking the fourth wall here! He would probably be more… nervous around you, not like he would ever get close anyways, but still! The idea of the only girl at school actually being friends with you and maybe becoming more makes his heart beat faster.

Ortho would not. Perceive you any differently LOL. He’d be intrigued would say like “A girl? Cool! The body analyses I’ve done from everyone around you reads their body temperatures higher and their hearts are all beating faste- MMPH!” He would be silenced by ADeuce…

Diasomnia

Malleus…. Once he knows how you don’t fear him and how you like him even without knowing who he is. All he can think of is how beautiful you would be as his queen. Who can blame him? He has priorities and he needs to think of these things! I can also imagine him picking petals off flowers and saying “She loves me… she loves me not…” because he’s romantic like that… my heart

Lilia would use his experience in his vast years of dating to his advantage, knowing what ways to talk to a woman best. He swears he is only flirting with you for fun! The way your cheeks puff up in embarrassment is just too cute to resist! He certainly doesn’t mind a gender neutral MC, but Lilia can appreciate the beauty in every gender and he certainly appreciates your beauty!

Silver said 😪😴 . You notice Silver has more of a knightly approach to you, offering to protect you when you need it. He understands how a situation between one girl and hundreds of male students could provide a sense of fear, so Silver would always be there to protect you if you need!

Sebek would blush when you’re around, but he thinks you’re trying to use feminine charm and wiles to seduce the young master, even though all you did was make a yawn noise, flip your hair, or put on a bit of makeup! You have to explain to him that you aren’t doing anything to try to seduce anybody. You just wanted to go to school. He is doubtful but finally agrees. Maybe he was becoming victim to your charm instead?

[tulsa-trash]

Girly

Request: Would it be possible for you to do a request where the reader is the Curtis brothers sister (between Sodapop and Ponyboy) and she is not feminine at all (she wears trousers, converse and jean jackets) and one day the gang sees her dressed up all girly.

WARNING(S): N/A

You looked at your reflection in the mirror for the millionth time, sighing as you smoothed out your new, light yellow skirt. Your mouth formed into a thin line as you eyed the white blouse that clung to your chest.

Your best friend had set you up on a date with a boy you barely even knew. When you reluctantly agreed she dragged you to a fancy boutique on the south side of town and bought you an entire outfit. Sure she meant well, and you appreciated it, but you couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable.

Never in your life have you thought you would be caught dead in a skirt and blouse. You never really liked girly or skimpy clothes, but she had insisted you wear something feminine for once.

You were nervous about the date, but petrified of how your brothers would react. You neglected to tell them about the date, knowing they would freak out and most likely ruin it for you. But you knew when you walked out of your room all hell was going to break loose when they see you in a skirt.

As you slipped some socks onto your feat you scoffed as your gaze landed on the new saddle shoes your friend had bought you.

“No thanks.” You mumbled under your breath.

You walked past your brand new shoes and smiled at your beat up converse that laid strewn out on the side of your bed. You slipped them on and tied them tightly, feeling content as they perfectly molded to your feet.

You sat on your bed for a moment, glancing at your alarm clock. He was supposed to be there in ten minutes to pick you up. You decided that it was now or never, you got up and walked towards your door. With a deep breath, you closed your eyes and silently prayed to yourself before exiting your room.

You swung the door open and put on the most normal face you could muster. With your head held high you confidently strolled down the hallway and towards all of the rowdy boys that occupied the living room.

Ponyboy was reading a book on the couch with Two-Bit sat beside him sipping on a beer and watching TV. Steve and Soda were wrestling on the floor, your big brother was winning only for a moment before Steve flipped him over and held him in a head lock.

“Hey, guys.” You said, casually leaning against the wall.

“He–” Ponyboy stopped once his gaze landed on you.

His eyes widened as he scanned your wardrobe, raising his eyebrows.

“Um… What– er… What are ya wearin’?” He asked skeptically.

Once those words left his mouth it seems as though the other boys in the room actually took notice of your presence. Two-Bit began to choke on his alcoholic beverage like a maniac. Soda stood laying on the floor dumbfounded while Steve was on top of him, looking at you with his jaw dropped.

You rolled your eyes at their reactions, looking down and playing with the hem of your skirt.

“I know I look lousy… Ya don’t have to rub it in.” You grumbled.

Your head snapped up when Two-Bit began to wolf whistle at you. A deep blush painted your cheeks as Steve began to join in while your two brothers looked at them in disgust.

“Howdy! Get you kid!” Two-Bit exclaimed as he examined you. “Don’t you look pretty!”

You smiled at the ground, “Awe, shucks–”

“Golly! I don’t think I ever seen you all dressed up before, you look awful nice!” Steve said.

“Erm… yeah. Why are ya dressed up anyhow?” Soda asked as he pushed Steve off of him.

“Gee, Soda. Thanks.” You said sarcastically.

“Don’t get me wrong, kiddo. Ya look gorgeous! I’m just confused… What’d you get all dolled up for?”

“I got a date…” You stated.

“A DATE!?” Both Soda and Pony shrieked.

“Why don’t ya tell the whole neighborhood while you’re at it.” You hissed.

“Hey! Why all the hollerin’? What’s goin’ on?” Darry entered the living room from the kitchen.

“Nothing.” You said quickly.

“Y/N got a date.” Soda ratted you out.

You glared at your older brother before giving the eldest Curtis a sweet smile.

“A date?” Darry asked skeptically. “Were you plannin’ on tellin’ us any time soon? What makes you think you can go on a date?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “I can date whoever I want, Darry. I’m sixteen for cryin’ out loud I can handle one date!”

Darry sighed deeply as he stared down at you, he was absolutely horrified seeing you all grown up and looking girly as ever.  The last thing he wanted to do was to get into another argument with one of his siblings. He had been fighting with Pony constantly and snapping at Soda, he didn’t want to bicker with you too.

You were caught off guard when he bent down and wrapped you in his arms, giving you a big hug. Shaking off the shock you hugged him back, squeezing his broad shoulders.

“You look beautiful, buddy.” He told you.

“Thank you, Dare-Bear.”

He snickered, you had given him that nick name when you were little; and you knew that he would crumble and get all soft from your words.

“Look, I don’t feel like fighting with ya…” He pulled away from the hug to look you in the eyes. “But please, stay safe. If that kid tries anythin’ you best know all of us are gonna head for the cooler.”

Everyone agreed as he said this, you just laughed and gave your brother a kiss on the cheek before heading towards the door.

“Wait you’re actually lettin’ her go?”

“He best keep his hands to himself!”

“Bring a sweater.”

“Use protection!”

“SHUT UP, TWO!”

“I’ll be fine!” You reassured.

“Curfew is eight o’ clock.” Darry said.

“Nine.” You argued.

“Eight thirty, take it or you ain’t goin’ missy.”

“Fine. Love you!”

With that you were out the door, your date wasn’t there yet so you took a seat on the front steps.

“What are you doin’?”

You jumped in surprise as your head whirled around to face the voice. It was Dally accompanied by Johnny, they were leaning against the house whilst sharing a cigarette.

“Hello to you too, Dal.” You said with sass laced in your tone.

He chuckled dryly, trailing off as he eyed you. You shifted uncomfortably and turned away from him.

“You look nice, Y/N.” Johnny said quietly.

You turned and sent him a warm smile, “Thanks, Johnny.”

“Where you goin’ off to dressed like that?” Dally asked.

You raised an eyebrow at him, “Why the sudden curiosity?”

He simply shrugged, “Figured you’d be doin’ somethin’ special… you never dress like… that.”

“D-Do you think it looks bad?” You didn’t mean to stutter, but you couldn’t help it.

He smirked, looking you up and down once more. Silence fell between the three of you for a while.

“Take that as a yes.” You scoffed.

“Nah…” Dally said. “You look smokin’.”

“Really?” You asked. Not once has Dallas Winston ever complimented you, and to be honest you wanted to make sure you heard him right.

“I don’t like repeatin’ myself, doll.” He replied smoothly.

You smirked and averted your gaze from him to the road, a light blush tinted your cheeks. Soon enough, a beat up car came to a stop in front of the house. Your date got out and gestured for you to get in, holding the door for you.

“Looks like that’s him…” You breathed out as you got up.

“He better not try anythin’.” Dallas said lowly.

“Awe, Dal. Didn’t know you cared about me that much.” You teased as you walked down your front steps.

“Shush up, kid.”

His eyes raked your body as he watched you walk away, getting into the guys car. He smirked at you when you shot him one last playful glance before your date drove off.

“I didn’t know the Curtis gal was hot.” Dallas said.

“Best not let her brothers hear you sayin’ stuff like that about her.” Johnny silently warned.

Dallas scoffed, flicking his finished cigarette into the dirt before heading back inside. Johnny followed close behind him.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

I'm Yours, You're Mine | 5

Word Count: 4.1k

Genre: Smut, angst

Warnings: Cheating, yandere!felix, sub!felix, mention of blackmail, public sex, pussy eating, guided masturbation?, fingering, hella jealousy, assault mention, jisung inclusion lmao

A/N: link to the gorgeous dress the OC wears made a super lovely anon thank you babe

GIF CREDIT

“What is taking you so long?” You grunt, walking into the kitchen to find the freckled boy pulling a tray out of the oven. At the sound of your voice, he springs up and flashes you a brilliant smile that explains just why he’s nicknamed the sunshine boy. You smile bitterly at the reminder. Oh, how you used to believe that.

“I just finished the brownies for the picnic, noona.” He chirps happily, looking so angelic, like a bad thought never crossed his mind ever.

Felix wants to take you on a romantic picnic date beside the river. He volunteered to do everything, making you both the food and drinks you’ll need so all you’ll have to do is sit there and enjoy the pleasant early summer weather.

Taking a deep breath, you steal yourself, preparing for the transformation you’ve come to expect from him. “Oh, we’re not going on a picnic. I changed my mind. I wanna go to the mall instead.”

You know the commercial, impersonal place would upset the sentimental boy, and that’s why you do it. The sharp fall of his smile makes your heart stop for a second and your body stiffen, preparing for an attack.

“What?” He asks gruffly.

“I need new summer clothes.” You try to appear nonchalantly.

“Can’t you do that any other time?”

“I want to do it today.” You shrug, stopping yourself from flinching as you see his jaw clench. “You promised you’d take care of me. You promised you’d do what I want.” You remind him of the promises he made after attacking you last time. The promises he made to make you give him another chance. You didn’t believe in any of his promises, and you were provoking him on purpose to prove that he can’t himself in check so you’d have a reason to call this whole thing off.

And it seems he’s getting there. “But we agreed on this date. I prepared a lot for this. I made you fucking brownies.”

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt me.” You accuse, and he flinches, his body immediately deflating as the anger rushes out of him. “No, I won’t. It’s okay. We can go wherever you want, noona. You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

You didn’t expect this reaction from him. You thought he’d lash out again. Maybe it really was a mistake like he said, and you should give him another chance. You’re lost in contemplation when his soft, low voice breaks through to you.

“Would you at least try the brownies?” He pleads, his pretty eyes sparkling, making you believe that the universe truly is a cruel, uncaring place if the stars would agree to light up the eyes of someone like him. Still, you can’t resist the constellations reflected in his eyes and onto his cheeks, finding yourself compelled to lean down and press a kiss to his pouty lips.

You suck in a sharp breath at the exploding light that brightens his face at such a small action, like a supernova, blazing your cold heart.

“Okay.” You breathe, and he, giddy with excitement, cuts off a piece for you. You reach out for it but he swings his hand out of the way, wanting to feed it to you himself. You open your mouth and accept the food, biting a piece of it off and chewing it.

Felix watches you with bated breath, as if your opinion would win him a national baking competition. You’re scared by how much you’re enjoying his attention, and it scares you. It’s too easy to get addicted to him.

“How do you like it, noona?”

“It’s sublime.” You smile, the divine taste of the dessert and his angelic features could fool you into thinking you’re in heaven. How can one person give you such radically conflicting feelings? You feel like you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, not knowing if at the end of fall you’ll be greeted by the refreshing ocean water or the jagged, deadly rocks.

Felix’s smile gets impossibly wider as he giggles. “I knew you’d like it, baby.” He leans in to give you a peck that’s sweeter than the food you just had.

______________________________

You can’t find anything you like. Nothing at all.

Frustrated, you turn to Felix who had been following you obediently like a little puppy through the countless stores.

“I don’t know. Do you see anything good?” You huff, and he seems surprised by your question, not having expected you to actually take his opinion, albeit how last choice it is. You feel bad. He not only didn’t complain like he promised, even though you cancelled the picnic he wanted, but he actually hyped you up and showered you with compliments every time you’d try on something new.

“What do you like your girl to wear?” You tease him, knowing your words will bring a pretty blush to his face.

“I--I like dresses.” He replies sheepishly.

“Yeah? Like what? Show me.”

It’s your turn to follow him around as he bashfully picks out a few dresses for you. You notice they're all so girly and pretty with bows and frills and lace. Seems like he has a type.

“Do you want me to try them on, baby?” You ask when he hands them to you.

“Please.” He breathes, impatient to see them on you and you think it's adorable how excited he is. You don’t wear dresses, and you know you won’t wear these, but you try them on just for him, not expecting how much his reaction will affect you.

"Wow." He sucks in a breath, his widened eyes taking in every inch of you. Smirking, you ask, "You like it that much?"

He nods vigorously, looking at you with adoration and want you’ve never had directed at you before. It takes your breath away, how genuine it looks, compelling you to do everything in your power to earn it.

The dress is made of a pretty pink Chiffon material, with a pink bow circling under the chest and a sweetheart neckline that exposes your collarbones and dips down to show quite a bit of cleavage, serving to emphasize your breasts that Felix can’t take his eyes off of. The contrast between the light and princessy look of the flowy skirt, and the seductive neckline hints at a certain corruption of innocence begging to be undertaken.

But just as you prepare to be engulfed in the sparkly blue-green of the ocean water, you find yourself crumpling over the rocks as Felix pulls out his phone to take a picture of you.

“You and your pictures.” You comment bitterly, happiness gone. “Gonna blackmail me over this too?”

He gasps, and the hand holding his phone immediately drops down, as if he couldn’t believe you’d say that.

“What, did you forget that you forced me into this?” You mock, “I bet you’re loving this. Making me do this. Dressing me up like I’m your doll? I bet your little dick is hard right now.”

He shakes his head, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to deny your words or just defend his actions. Pulling him close by his jeans, you press your thigh between his legs and laugh when it’s met by his hard-on. “See? I know everything that goes on in your sick brain.”

“Just wanna be good for you.” He whimpers, but even as he says that, his eyes fall to your breasts and his hand reaches out to run over the neckline of the dress you have on.

“Of course you do.” You snarl, and he cowers under your harsh tone. But like a kid at a candy store, he can’t stop his hand from straying, his fingers trailing down to circle around your nipples pushing through the soft material of the dress.

Grabbing his wrist, you bring his hand to your mouth and take his middle finger into your mouth, sucking on it lightly, grinning as his knees buckling and a small whimper leaves his lips. He tries to push you back into the fitting room but you don’t budge, taking his finger out of your mouth and humming. "I suddenly want something to suck on. Why don't you buy me a popsicle baby? I'm feeling hot."

He gulps harshly, "Yes, noona."

________

Felix buys all the dresses for you and you keep wearing the pink one, wanting to make him suffer more through the trip.

You strut to the ice cream store, feeling unstoppable in your flowy dress with your lovestruck lover in toe, hand on your waist and eyes glaring at everyone, trying to fend off anyone who would try to approach you.

Felix sits you down in a booth at the far end of the store, hiding you from view as he goes to get what you want. You sigh, playing the skirt of your new dress, lost in thought about Felix and how you feel about him. He’s sweet, addictively so, but he’s volatile and that scares you. Would you pick him over Chan? What if he just wants you because Chan has you? Maybe this is some kind of sick competition for him. Or maybe it’s the contrast with Chan that makes you like him at all. Maybe you’re just upset with Chan.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud, cheery voice. “Noona, how are you?”

Coming out your daze, you blink, taking in the new figure. “Oh, hey, Jisung.”

“What are you doing here?” He asks giddily, eyes raking over your body, stopping over your breasts the same way Felix did, and lingers on them too long. You clear your throat, smirking as his eyes snap back up to your face as he flushes.

You’re quite aware of the crush he has on you. So better get rid of him before Felix comes and throws a tantrum. Unless…

This could be your chance to get back at Felix for what he did to you and for forcing you to go on this date. He can threaten to tell Chan on you but what is he gonna do to Jisung? Nothing.

“I’m just hanging with a friend.” You smile broadly, “Why don’t you join us?”

“Wouldn’t your friend mind?” He asks, already moving to sit down. You grin wickedly, “No, he’ll love it."

“Okay.” He sits down opposite you, unsuspecting of the storm about to come over. Right on time, Felix comes back with your popsicle.

“Oh, hey Lixie! This is Jisung. We work together.” You pull him down, ignoring the sour look on his face.

“Hey!” Jisung pipes up with a friendly wave that Felix doesn’t return. Felix pins the other boy down with a glare that makes Jisung shrink back.

“He’s just a little shy.” You reach over the table and place your hand over his to comfort him, a gesture that only makes Felix angrier and he in turn grabs your thigh under the table and squeezes it in warning. Turning to him, you pluck the popsicle out of his hand and take a big lick. “Hmm, this is tasty.”

You take the part of the popsicle into your mouth, giving Felix a wink before you turn to the other boy. “So, how have you been, Sungie?”

“Um… good.” He fidgets as you swirl your tongue around the popsicle in an obviously suggestive way.

“How's your girlfriend?” You ask, knowing full well that they broke up. His eyes follow your tongue for a second before he clears his throat and answers. “We’re not together anymore.”

“Oh, no!” You pout, lips cherry colored and glistening with melted ice cream. “That must be very hard for you, baby.”

You feel Felix’s hand clench around your thigh, but you don’t spare him a glance as you continue, “How have you been handling that?”

You place the popsicle back in your mouth, sucking on it enticingly as you eye Jisung up and down and wait for him to answer, but the poor boy can barely string his words together. “It’s--I’m...o-okay.”

Pulling the popsicle out of your mouth with a wet slurp, you smile while licking the tip of the treat. “I’m so glad. Hmm, this is so good.” You moan out, and extend the popsicle towards him. “Wanna try it?”

Jisung chokes on his own spit, and you can tell that a handprint will remain on your upper thigh from how hard Felix’s fingers were digging into your skin.

"No that's okay, noona." Jisung fidgets, and you know he’s rubbing his thighs together under the table. You ignore his refusal, pushing the popsicle towards his mouth. "Come on baby, open up for me."

He obediently opens his mouth despite his refusal, but before he can close his lips around the ice cream, you pull it away with a laugh. "Why don't you stick out your tongue for me?"

He sucks in a sharp breath and his eyes snap to Felix. You can only see the other boy from the corner of your eye, but the rage rolling off of him in waves more than explains the terrified look on your coworker's face. No, that wouldn't do.

Leaning over the table, your ass in Felix’s face barely covered by the short dress, you curl a finger under Jisung’s chin and turn his attention towards you. "Don't look at him baby. Keep your eyes on me."

He nods weakly and you smile, moving to sit back down when Felix grabs your hips and pulls you down onto his lap, a small gasp escaping from your lips as you feel his hard-on against your thin underwear.

Your grin grows bigger, and you grind down on Felix’s dick as you tell Jisung, "Now show me your tongue, baby."

The sight of Jisung’s glazed eyes and pretty tongue out like a cute puppy makes you moan a little, something only Felix can hear. You feel his hand move from your hip to your pussy, fingers rubbing over you now soaked panties. With a shuddering breath, you move the popsicle over Jisung’s tongue, delighted by how he doesn’t pull it back into his mouth until you tell him to.

"Such a good boy." You coo, and you feel Felix’s fingers slip under your panties to rub harshly at your bare pussy. Shuddering, you open your legs wider for him. "He's such a good boy, isn't he, Felix? I bet he'd never act out or disobey me."

Felix grabs your clit between his thumb and index finger and pinches lightly, making you jump in his lap and bounce on his cock, the two of you groaning out in pleasure and making poor Jisung whimper as he clutches hard onto the table to keep from touching himself.

Opening your legs wide, you order Felix, "Put your fingers in me. Wanna show you what you're not getting by being a brat."

His hand leaves the tight circles he’s drawing over you clit and dip down to your hole, plunging a finger right in. “Oh, fuck.” You shudder at the delicious intrusion and the thrust of Felix’s dick against your pussy, the both of you clearly wishing that was his dick instead of his finger.

“Feels good, baby?” You whisper back to Felix and he nods sharply, finger pushing in and out of you incessantly as if you’ll tell him to stop at any moment. "Yeah? Tell Jisung how it feels."

Felix growls against your skin, sinking his teeth into your shoulder angrily, not wanting to think about the other guy with you right now. But you don’t back down. "Tell him or I'll have him find out himself."

He stuffs another finger inside you, and obeys, voice grave and hostile. “Noona’s pussy is tight around my fingers. So soft and wet for me. Only me.”

You laugh breathlessly, bucking your hips against Felix’s hand so that your clit can rub against his palm. Poor Jisung’s hands were white from how tightly he was gripping onto the table, and you’re worried he would either break it or hurt himself.

“You getting turned on watching us, baby?” You drawl, getting his attention. “It’s okay. You can touch yourself.”

As if he was waiting for your permission, Jisung instantly sticks his hand between his legs, and humps against it to relieve some of the pressure.

“Good boy.” You murmur, and Felix abuses the spot he bit in your shoulder again, deeping the mark forming there and making his feelings clear about you praising another guy while he’s fingering you. "Did you fantasize about my pussy, baby?"

“Yes.” Both of them answer, and you laugh.

"Hmm, seems like you've got competition, kitty. Maybe I chose the wrong boy to play with."

Felix stops abruptly, pulling his fingers out of you and pushing you onto the seat next to him. Your heart beats rapidly against your chest, thinking that he’s about to make a scene. Instead, he slips under the table and pulls on your hips so your ass is at the edge of the seat. Yanking your panties off, he spreads your legs wide.

"Gonna prove to you that I'm the one for you." He buries his face in your pussy, angrily licking every little inch of it and sucking harshly on your clit.

“Oh, fuck---Felix!” You moan, grabbing onto his hair as he devours your pussy. “Good boy. This is exactly where you belong.”

From the barely open slit of your eyes you see Jisung frustrated and on the verge of crying as he’s not getting as much stimulation as he needs.

"Pull your pretty cock out for me baby.” You drawl, trying to entice him so he’d forget about being in a public place and give in to you. “Don't be scared. Noona wants you to be dirty."

He discards his fears, pulling his dick out and yanking on it fast.

“Good boy. Such a good boy.” You effuse, and under the table, Felix pulls back to slap your pussy in punishment, furious that you’re still giving Jisung attention even though he’s on his knees under the table eating your pussy out.

“Brat.” You hiss, tugging on his hair and pushing his head back between your legs, grinding your pussy against his face.

"Wanna cum, please." Jisung begs, and you tear your eyes away from Felix’s shiny and livid ones to look over at him. He doesn’t look pretty or angelic as Felix looks even under the cramped table and surrounded by the pink Chiffon as he ignores his need to breathe in favor of pleasing you. Instead, Jisung he looks sweaty and fucked dumb, his eyes barely focused and his jaw hanging open.

"Wait for noona." You gruffly answer, squeaking in surprise as you feel Felix’s tongue push inside your pussy, a growly moan ripping out of him as he feels your tight walls around his tongue.

"You are doing such a good job, kitten.” You purr down to your lover, fucking his pretty face.

“No, I can’t, n-noona… please.” He cries, and you glare at him. “I said wait.”

“Can’t….ahh...noona, I’m sorry….fuck, fuck!” He squeaks, body convulsing as little ropes of white stain his shirt.

Seeing the mess he makes, you’re tipped over the edge yourself, cumming on Felix’s tongue and closing your thighs around his head, trapping him there. Obediently, he stays still as your hips buck a few more times against his face before your body relaxes and your legs fall open.

Felix gives your pussy a couple of soothing licks before he pulls your dress down and emerges from under the table, his face glistening with your cum. Yet somehow, he still looks as delicate and beautiful as ever as leans into your hand cupping his cheek.

“Good boy.” You murmur, your other hand reaching out to palm his crotch when a wet spot surprises you. You raise an eyebrow "oh?"

"I'm sorry. I know you didn’t say I could cum. I just wanted this for so long. Wanted to make you feel as good as you make me feel." He sobs, thinking you'll laugh at him. But you find it so incredibly sexy and flattering. You never thought you'd meet a guy who enjoyed pleasing you that much.

"You did good, baby." You beam, patting his cheek. ”Sitting there while I flirt with another boy? Maybe next I just make you watch while I fuck him. How does that sound? I bet it will make your little cock so hard, you little pervert."

He shakes his head violently, getting upset. "No, please don't. It would kill me. I love you so much." He breaks down and starts babbling about how he never wanted it to be this way. How sorry he is, begging you to not do this again.

"Hush, my dumb kitty." You press your finger against his lips to stop him from talking. “It’s okay. How about we go home and get cleaned up then have some coffee and brownies?"

He nods gratefully, and you’re about to get up when you hear someone cough. You look in front of you and remember that you had a guest.

“Oh, Jisung. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?” You say, pulling Felix up and ignoring Jisung’s protests, and walking to the door.

However, Jisung isn’t the only one with something to say. As you’re about to leave the shop, an employee intercepts you. You can immediately tell what he’s going to say from the severe look on his face.

“Please, don’t try to come back to our shop or we’ll have to call the police.”

You nod, cheeks burning in humiliation as you run out and drag a smiling Felix behind you to the car.

__________________

When you head off to work a few days later, you wonder what you’re going to say to Jisung. You had set off to work with a promise to Felix that you’re not gonna pursue anything with the brunette, but he weirdly didn’t seem particularly concerned about the matter, despite how upset he was that day.

Yes, you’d been extra nice to him these past few days, acting much more receptive to his affectionate ways and responding in kind, but you still didn’t expect that much change.

Your brain is buzzing with all the possibilities about how Jisung will react and your lover’s one-hundred-eighty flip in attitude as you step into your office, but then you realize that Jisung isn’t there at all. Asking around, you find out that he’s at the hospital. Apparently he’d injured himself while playing with a knife. You roll your eyes. That boy is a danger to himself.

Still, you decide to go check up on him at the hospital.

You expect him to act awkward around you, to blush and stutter and look away. What you don’t expect is the sheer horror on his face upon seeing you.

“Wow, did I scar you that bad?” Is the first thing you say to him once you’re inside his hospital room.

“Why are you here?” He asks shakily, staring behind you as if he’s expecting someone to pop out from there.

You frown, “I realize I may have crossed the line yesterday but I just wanted to make sure you’re alright."

“I’m fine. Now please leave.”

“Thanks, I’m so reassured right now.” You roll your eyes, moving closer to him. ”How did this even happen? How does one stab their own leg?”

But as you reach out to touch his shoulder, he screams. "Don't touch me! You can't touch me!"

"What's going on? You're freaking me out." You jump back, and once again, he looks behind you. "Does he know you're here?"

"Who?"

"Your boyfriend."

"Chan?” You ask, confused. What does Chan have to do with this? “He doesn't even know you."

"No, Felix. The one that was with you yesterday."

"Felix? He's not my---" Your face suddenly falls as a horrible thought crosses your mind. No. It can’t be. "Did he do this to you?"

Jisung pales and shakes his head violently "No. I told you it was an accident. Now please leave."

He seems to be on the verge of breakdown, and maybe you should try to calm him down, but your mind is in an upheaval right now, and all you could think of is running to Felix to prove to yourself that you’re just being crazy. He would never do something like this, would he? It can’t be. It’s simply outrageous. But then again his weird change in behavior, his volatile attitude that always keeps you on edge… No, that’s crazy talk.

Numbly you go out of the room and make your way to your car to head back home. You’ll talk to Felix and he’ll tell you how stupid you’re being, and it’s all gonna be alright.

__________

A/N: this chapter was written so quickly because of all the lovely feedback you guys gave me so yeah feedback feeds me

[gyusfavlibra]

YOU MAY NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE!!!

This is a imagine I made on my Wattpad that hasn't been released yet so I posted it here. @ivnasfilm is my wattpad btw!

Warnings: Fluff? Smut? Sexual interactions, language, cockblocking, Ward Cameron mentions, grinding, mentions of sex

••••

"Are your parents home?"

"No, they're at Thornton's for a couple hours."

"Sarah and Wheezie, too?"

"Yes," Rafe replied to his questioning girlfriend, Y/n. The duo have been dating for a year now. Y/n has been inside Rafe's house many times. She met him through her brother Kelce. He was pretty worried about it at first, but eventually Kelce would've had to get over it because Y/n is 18. She's a legal adult. She can do whatever the hell she wants.

They got closer by attending parties together, spending days at the country club, golf course. Sometimes even just sitting and talking at the beach. It was more than enough for both of them and they enjoyed it all. They made it official by attending Midsummers together. It was a pretty big deal to them since every single Kook would now know that Rafe Cameron officially had a girlfriend.

The first time she met Sarah, they hit it off pretty well. Did sleepovers, painted nails, read magazines about hot guys. Basically girly stuff. Even took fun trips on the Cameron's boat to get away from their boyfriends. They became best friends and truly loved each other's company.

Just like Rafe enjoyed Y/n's.

"Sooo, can I come inside?"

He leant his head back against the car seat. Staring at the girl who was sitting in the driver side of her vehicle. "Can you come inside?"

"Yeah, or- do you want me to?"

The mood in the car lightened as their talk became less questioning and more seductive. Y/n leaning over the center console, her breath hitting Rafe's face in all the ways he likes. Her hand reached over, brushing against his thigh.

"Do I even have to answer that?"

She shook her head at the Cameron before connecting their lips. Softly and gentle was how it was starting off, before Rafe placed his hand onto the zipper of her jeans.

"Not in here. Let's go inside."

"Okay."

The couple exited the car, Y/n making sure to lock it, and headed inside the house. Rafe using his own key to get indoors. They ran up the steps to Rafe's room, shutting the door behind them. Y/n removed her maroon crew neck, sitting herself on Rafe's bed as he removed his t-shirt.

He gently pushed her down sliding his heavier body between her legs. Leaving little kisses from her chest and up. He knew better than to give her hickeys on the neck because of Kelce so he avoided that.

His hand ran itself up and down her waist, giving it a small squeeze. They liked skin pressure. Tension. They began moving upwards, pushing under her cami top. A cropped tank that protected your breast if you didn't want to wear a bra. She tend to wear them often when around Rafe for these special purposes. And today, she just got lucky.

His thumb grazed the side of her breast. "Can I take this off?"

"Mhm."

"Hey Rafe, I need a the U-"

Before he could continue, Wheezie came barging through the door. Covering her eyes. Rafe groaned at the fact that his sister didn't knock. Knowing whenever the door is closed, you knocked.

"Wheezie, we talked about this-"

"I know. I'm sorry. I keep forgetting," she sighed. "Hi, Y/n."

"Hi, Wheez."

"What do you need? Why aren't you at dinner with dad and Sarah?"

"Halfway through the dinner, Rose threw up because Topper's parents made snail and she didn't like it. She made an excuse saying she was probably coming down with the flu. So we came back early."

"What did the Thornton's say?" Y/n asked. Intrigued by this hilarious story as Rafe put back on his shirt.

"Nothing. Just that we should head home just incase they could catch whatever it was."

"That sounds awesome!"

"Yeah, I know. Hey, wanna see the video."

"Oh absolutely," Y/n exclaimed, getting up from Rafe's bed. He sighed as he watched the two girls laugh at the gross vomiting. Althought part of him was glad Y/n was getting along with his little sister. "That's freaking gross. Cool. Like really cool. But gross."

"Yeah, i'm gonna upload it to my Instagram."

"Tag me?"

"Obviously."

"Awesome! Thanks."

Rafe stood. "So, what did you need?"

"I need the USB cord to connect my phone and laptop to upload the video in a file just in case dad and Rose make me take it down."

He huffed out his breath, walking over to his desk. He opened the top drawer, pulling out a mid-length white cord, handing it to his sister. She thanked him and tried to leave, but Rafe stopped her at the doorway. Death glaring her.

"I'm not gonna tell anyone. Chill out. Not like I wanna talk about it and picture it again."

"We weren't doing anything."

"I may be young, but I'm not stupid."

"She's got a point," Y/n agreed. Wheezie fist bumped her and left. Rafe shutting the door behind her. He turned to Y/n who just shrugged at the annoyed boyfriend of hers.

He smiled as he walked up to her, pushing his face close to hers. "Now, where were we?"

"You tell me."

He chuckled, the vibration against her lips sending chills down her whole body. He kissed her seductively like he did once before. This time Y/n pushed Rafe down onto the large bed, enough room for her to switch that position.

Her hands rested on his ribs as she grinded her clothed area against his member. A moan escaped her lips as a huff left his. The jeans in between them horrifying this exciting interaction.

She swayed her tongue and lips against his neck. His eyes rolling to the back of his head, letting out a grunt. She scooted down a few inches so she wasn't sitting directly on top of his belt.

"God, these pants got to go."

"So do yours."

She undid the strap of his waistline. Next thing was unbuckling his pants. She undid the button that lied above the zipper before grabbing the loose metal tab, pulling it down it's line.

"Rafe, dad needs you downsta- HOLY SHIT!"

"OH MY GOD," he groaned out loud. Y/n pushed herself off the dirty blonde, landing beside him. Sarah stood in the doorway, eyes covered, laughing.

"Stop laughing."

"You guys were totally about to do it," she sang as she pointed between them.

"Shut up, Sarah."

"Dad wants you. Said something about the golf course or country club. One of the two. I don't know," she shrugged as she sat beside Y/n. Rafe looked to his girlfriend.

"I'll be right back. You," he pointed to Sarah. "Be gone before i'm back."

"Will do, dickeroo."

Rafe left downstairs as Sarah turned to Y/n and smiled with eyebrows raised. "What are you staring at?"

"Uh...you. Were you guys about to have sex? Since when?"

"Well our first time together was months ago. Like 3 or 4."

"When we were first friends, you said you never planned on having it until you're married. Since when has that changed?"

She shrugged. "Since I met Rafe."

"You guys are too adorable. Well you, not him. Can't stand him."

"Yeah, I know. Sometimes I can't stand Kelce. I wanna kill him."

"Yeah, well let me get going before Rafe tries to kill me." (No pun intended)

She hugged Y/n before leaving the room, just as Rafe walked back in. This time locking the door before shutting it. "That is the last interruption for the night. I told everyone I was going to bed."

"Well, good cause I am trying to get my freak on," she laughed as he jumped back onto of her. Finishing what they've been trying to start.

Thanks for reading!!!

[wondersofdreaming]

Show Night

Characters: Henry Cavill x female reader

Word count: 1.446

Warnings: Pure fluff. Competitiveness. Blurting. Hidden relationship. A little teasing. Embarassment. 

Author’s note: This is a prequel to Game Night

Thank you @radaofrivia​ for your inspiration, motivation and for guiding me <3

Go read her stories here: Rada’s Masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the reader who is a figment of my imagination.

MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated.

“Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special treat for all of you. We have the entire Justice League here with us. Please give a warm welcome to Gal Gadot, Ben Affleck, Henry Cavill, Jason Momoa, Ray Fisher and Ezra Miller.”

The entire audience clapped. There were whistling, some were screaming at the top of their lungs. You were cheering just as loud. Watching your handsome boyfriend walk out and wave to everyone. A relaxed smile spread on his lips when his eyes landed on you.

You were at the Graham Norton show. Sitting on the front row. No one knew who you were except the man who owned your body, heart, and soul, and now also Graham Norton and his crew. The producers had wanted you to stay backstage, but you had been adamant on wanting to sit in the audience and watching the show live. They had relented in the end if you promised not to cause a ruckus, which you had sworn.

Graham starts asking questions about the Zack Snyder’s Justice League, and at some point the engagement ring for Amy Adams’ character ‘Lois Lane’ comes into the conversation.

“Did you in fact choose that ring yourself, Henry?” Graham asked and motioned to the monitor behind him, showing a closeup of the ring.

“I didn’t. I actually have no clue where it comes from,” Henry chuckled, his eyes searching for you. You could see he was a little nervous, as he was fiddling with the hem of his suit jacket. You put your hand on your chest and crossed your fingers.

It was your secret sign for him. A sign of your devotion to him, as you had promised to always be there for him. The idea came to you while watching your favourite anime show ‘Fairy Tail’.

“If you ever become nervous or need a reminder, then look towards me or the camera if I am not there. I will you show you this sign,” you had crossed your fingers over your heart, “Even if you can’t see me, no matter how far away you may be, I will always be watching over you.”(1)

It had been a day where Henry had had a long day filled with interviews right at the beginning of your relationship. He hadn’t wanted to ask you to come, which was the reason why you hadn’t attended, thinking he wanted to work in peace. He proceeded to come home and went directly for your lap, falling asleep in 0.2 seconds, and you had asked him to bring you with him to work, as you, an author, could work anywhere.

“… I think it is about time he finds himself a girlfriend, a woman to spend his life with,” Jason’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see Henry squirming more than before. His jaw was tense as he was forcing a laugh. You felt his pain and wished you could sit next to him and squeeze his hand in yours.

“I have a lot of single friends, Supes. Say the word and I’ll introduce you,” Jason smacked Henry’s thighs with the biggest grin on his bearded face. It may have sounded like a joke to the audience but Henry knew that Jason wasn’t teasing.

“I don’t think my girlfriend will like that you’re playing matchmaker, brother,” Henry smiled. All the actors’ faces fell, even Jason was gobsmacked as his jaw dropped to the floor.

Then Henry noticed what he had just said. His head turned towards you with a look of utter shock. He had just blurted out that he wasn’t single anymore, without having consulted you. Your heart was racing, your secret had been revealed. In some way, it felt like a heavy stone having been lifted from your shoulders.

You didn’t know whether to scold him for not asking you to make your relationship public or to laugh at the horror he was sporting on that handsome face of his. You opted for the second choice, the people around you followed suit and started laughing and cheering.

“Well, you heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen, Henry Cavill is officially off the market,” Graham announced to the camera. “Now, Henry, you have to tell us how you two met.”

“We… eh… met through mutual friends. They were having a game night, and we ended up being paired together for charades,” Henry smiled at the memory. Looking at you, making you fall even more in love with him. Jason and the others noticed where Henry was looking and started shouting for you to join the group.

“Oh yes, please she must join us for the next part of the fun,” Graham pleaded.

Ray and Ezra both stood and went to stand at the edge of the stage. Each man gallantly offered a hand, which you took and was led towards the sofa. Jason moved to make space for you and was wearing a big grin, his eyes shining with glee.

After the rounds of introduction and you told what your occupation was, Graham went to introduce the little quiz game he had conjured. You were each given a button that made a sound. Yours sounded like a pig snorting, while Henry’s was a howling wolf.

“So, the winner gets to take home whatever is underneath this piece of cloth,” Graham said after he had told you the rules. He motioned to the covered box next to him.

“Everyone ready?” he asked. All the actors and yourself said yes. Henry was leaning a little forward, to be ready to push his button.

“First question: Who are the original members of the Justice League?”

You pushed your button faster than anyone, while Henry pushed his so hard it nearly flew off the table.

“Aquaman, Wonder Woman, Batman, The Flash, Superman and Green Lantern,” you told Graham. (2)

“Go girly,” Gal cheered for you. She leaned forward and raised her hand for a high five, which you returned.

“Correct! Question number two: What is the Green Lantern oath?”

*Oink oink*

Again you were the fastest. Everyone watched as Henry let out an annoyed huff, but his face showed nothing but absolute happiness.

“In brightest day, in blackest night, No evil shall escape my sight.

Let those who worship evil’s might Beware my power, Green Lantern’s light. (3)” You quoted.

You felt the other actors starring at you. Jason gave you a side hug and told you that Henry had found not only a beautiful woman but also an impressive one and that he was damn lucky to have you. You had smiled back and felt yourself being pulled back towards Henry’s side. He held a protective arm around you the remaining of the show.

“Seriously, Cavill. Don’t want to compete with your girl?” Jason asked teasingly.

“I’ll gladly just lean back and let her have her time in the light. Besides, I’m already winning because she’s with me,” Henry smiled proudly at you. You heard the entire audience all go ‘awwwwwwwww’, so did the actors and Jason went between you and Henry to hug both of you.

“Third question: In what year was the first Justice League comic book published?”

Again you were quick to push the button.

“Depending on whether you’re talking about the first time they appeared all together which was in The Brave and the Bold #28 (4) and published in 1959, while their very first own comic book series was published in late 1960.” (5)

Henry raised his eyebrows, clearly dazzled by your vast knowledge. 

“Correct again. Seems you know more about the Justice League than the Justice League itself,” Graham joked.

“I didn’t expect anything less from Superman’s girlfriend,” Ben said with an appreciative grin.

You felt Henry moving closer to you, hugging you tighter to his chest. It was the safest you had ever felt, and even though Henry hadn’t gotten one single point, he was still oozing happiness. Happy to have you by his side forever and ever.

“Here is what you’ve won,” Graham handed you the box and removed the cloth. Inside was Funko Pop figurines of every Justice League member.

After the show, you made sure that every single actor signed their respective figure, and you had pictures taken with them to remember the evening.

At home, you arranged the figures with how they look on the poster you had hung on the wall of your office.

“Another win for the team,” you said out loud. Henry walked in and hugged you from behind. He wrapped those big arms around your middle and whispered seductively in your ear:

“I’m the real winner here.”

1. This is a line from Fairy Tail episode 48 by Makarov Dreyar. I changed it a bit to fit the context.

2. Source https://ew.com/books/brief-history-of-the-justice-league-in-all-its-incarnations/ 

3. Source https://greenlantern.fandom.com/wiki/Lantern_Oaths_(Disambiguation) 

4. Source https://dc.fandom.com/wiki/The_Brave_and_the_Bold_Vol_1_28

5. Source https://dc.fandom.com/wiki/Justice_League_of_America_Vol_1_1 

[itslieutenanthawkeye]

Day 1 of Jeankasa Smut Week 2021: Roleplay

Ao3

"'Passion' a word which involves so many feelings. I feel it when we touch; I feel it when we kiss; I feel it when I look at you. For you are my passion; my one true love."

Disclaimer: This contains explicit smut. Please make sure to practice safe sex.

Jean got into a bad mood each day they went to the market. He didn’t like crowds, and the population of the island had grown considerably after the signing of the peace accords. He liked his Saturdays quiet and lazy, with her and their baby girl as his only company, not surrounded by shouting vendors and haggling grandmas everywhere.

But he couldn’t deny her anything, and Mikasa knew that very well. It only took a “Jean, please,” with her eyes set onto his for him to become a puddle. Five years together and she still had the same power on him. And oh how he adored that.

“Jean,” she called, walking back to hold his hand and pull him along. “You’re staying behind,”

“Sorry!” Jean said, catching up to her strides. “Are you sure she’s going to be fine?”

“Your mom adores her. She’s been wanting to take her to the beach festival for a while,” she said. “And besides, Connie is with her. They will be fine.”

“Connie spoils her too much,” Jean said, shaking his head. “She’s going to eat three kilos of candy,”

Mikasa turned to look at him over her shoulder, giving him a smile that almost froze him on the spot. She was so pretty; beyond pretty, she was perfect. She usually kept her hair up in a bun when they went grocery shopping to not draw attention, but the sight of her jawline and neck was almost enough for send him over the edge. All jean wanted to do was push her into an alley, kiss her until he ran out of breath, undo that hairdo and pull on her hair as he—

“Jean,” Mikasa said as they reached the next fruit stand. She was facing him now, pretty eyes confused. “Are you okay?”

Jean cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, cursing himself. All Mikasa wanted was buy apples and pears at peace, and there he was, aroused in the middle of the market because his wife was showing a little bit of neck.

Sure, being parents in a two-bedroom apartment made things difficult, and they couldn’t make love as often as they had back when they’d been childless.

He adored their little girl, but she was at a point in which all she wanted was to hug mommy at night, and she either slept in between the two, or convinced Mikasa to sleep with her in her room.

Well, Jean also wanted some time with his woman.

Tonight, he reminded himself. Tonight, they would have the apartment all to themselves, and then they would head out to the beach the next day, to meet up with his mother and Connie.

Tonight, they would finally have the whole apartment for themselves. Tonight, he would lick her for hours. Tonight, he would make her come over and over with his tongue and then he would fuck her right on the kitchen counter.

“Jean, you’re spacing out.”

He shook his head; he couldn’t allow himself to get fired up in the middle of the market, not in front of the old lady that was bagging up their fruit. “I’m sorry,” he said, leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek.

Mikasa blushed and gave the old lady a sideways glance, making him smile. She’d never been too comfortable with public displays of affection, he knew. “Sorry again,”

“Don’t be,” she replied bashfully, then stepped a bit closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, kissing her forehead again and loving the sight of her blush deepening. “I’ll go get the onions.”

“You’re trying to get me flustered, Kirstein,” she said, giving him a mischievous half smile.

“Always, Ackerman,” he said, giving him a proper smirk. “Be right back,”

He’d taken all the bags with him. He’d done it to keep her from carrying the bags. A sweet thing (he was a sweet, sweet man) but a careless thing, too, Mikasa thought as she walked with two large cabbages and a handful of scallions tucked in her arms.

He wasn’t hard to find in the crowd. He’d never been, with how tall he was…also, he was too handsome, too well built to go unnoticed. Everywhere they did, he drew eyes his way, both from men and women. Usually, whenever he was with her, nobody dared to try and approach him.

The fact that he’d been alone for ten minutes was probably the reason why that red headed woman had approached him.

She was, simply put, astonishing. Tall, with large breasts speckled with freckles, wide hips and a plump set of lips. Her hair was cascading down her shoulder, brushed so many times that it shone like molten copper, her eyes of a deep blue and her smile kind and sweet.

“Honey,” Mikasa said, reaching his side. Jean turned to look at her with a wide smile. He took the cabbages from her hands and tucked them inside the bags, readjusting them over his shoulder. “This is where you’ve been?”

Jean blinked, confused. “Didn’t you say you’d meet me here?”

“Oh,” Mikasa said, recalling what she’d said. “Yes.”

Jean smiled, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “I was just talking to Melody,” he said, gesturing to the redhead in front of him. “Melody, this is my wife.”

The girl beamed at her. “A pleasure,” she said, reaching out to shake her hand, her breasts almost spilling out of her cleavage. “Jean was just talking about you and your little girl.”

“Do you know each other?” Mikasa asked.

Melody gave Jean a shy look he didn’t return. “We were friends back in the day,” she said, with a shrug.

Mikasa understood what that meant; Jean had known the touch of many women before they got together. And she couldn’t blame him; she’d loved another person, and then she had mourned him for three years. During those three years Jean had been young, handsome, independent…it was ridiculous to think that he would remain single.

And he was a good back then as well as now, so most of the girls he’d dated, he still treated them politely whenever he encountered them. Still, Mikasa did not like seeing him interact with whoever he’d shared a bed with before. And Jean knew this.

“Melody is here with her husband,” he said. “She’ll be in Shingashina for a little while.”

“Wonderful,” Mikasa mumbled, inevitably looking at the girl. She was two years or three younger, and feminine as a doll. Why had she decided to put on that stained old dress for today?

Because market days weren’t meant to be fancy days, she reminded herself. They weren’t meant to be spent in fancy, tight dresses that enhanced the color of your eyes. Hadn’t anyone told this girl?

But, who was she kidding, trying to think badly of her just for wearing gorgeous clothes and having brushed her hair? Melody was gorgeous, feminine, and maybe yes, Mikasa had a bit of a complex about not being as girly as the other cadets during her teenage years, a complex she hadn’t quite gotten over yet.

“We should meet for dinner one day,” the girl said, but something told Mikasa that her words were meant mostly for Jean. “I need to run now, I’m all done with grocery shopping,”

She looked back at the group of older women carrying her bags for her, waving at them in an almost childish gesture, before giving Mikasa a respectful bow and a smile to Jean. “I’ll see you around, Kirstein,”

Mikasa tightened her grip on the little bag as the girl walked away; Jean didn’t watch her walk, neither did he smile back at her. No, his eyes were only on her. His attention had always belonged to Mikasa, all his desire has always been solely focused on her.

Still, Mikasa couldn’t help but to narrow her eyes at him. “You got distracted?”

“Not at all,” he said, stepping closer to her and kissing her temple. Mikasa closed her eyes, enjoying his touch, and put a hand on his waist to look up at him. “Please don’t tell me you think I’d—”

“I don’t think anything,” Mikasa said, shaking her head, feeling ashamed of herself for the frown she’d put on his face.

“I know you don’t like to see them. But I swear she just came to say hi,” Jean said, putting his hands on her shoulders and giving her another kiss. Mikasa wrapped her hands around his waist fully now, pressing her head to his chest. “Mika, I’ve got no eyes for anyone else. You’re perfect, and I love you.”

Mikasa looked up at him, brought to comfort by the warmth of his arms around her. He was looking at her with the same expression he had for all these years; one that spoke only about deep, passionate, unyielding love. “I love you too,” she said, closing her eyes, inviting him to kiss her lips.

Jean tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and leaned forward to press his lips against hers. The passing vendor that pushed him to the side broke the spell, however, and it also almost made Jean tumble to the ground.

“Are you okay?” Mikasa said, holding on to him and leading him to the side of the street.

“I’m fine,” he said, then glared at the group of children that passed by, running and shouting at the top of their lungs. He smiled at her, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “The market is not the most romantic of places.”

Mikasa lowered her head. It had been her idea to come today; he’d wanted to stay indoors, make love to her all morning and then cook breakfast together. “I’m sorry,”

“Don’t apologize,” he said,’cupping her face with one hand. “You are gorgeous, and we have a home to look after, don’t we?”

“We do,” Mikasa said, nodding.

“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing her hand and giving it a kiss. “I’ll make lunch for you,”

“I love you, Jean,”

“I love you too, Mikasa,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder so they could make their way along the street. “I gotta say, this jealousy thing you have is an ego boost.”

“I know you get a laugh out of it,” she said, smiling once again when he kissed her temple. She looked over her shoulder, to where the girl had been. Did he miss his bachelor life? Did he miss dressing up and going on fancy dates with mysterious, rich girls? All pointed to him not missing it, but he’d lived as a single man for a long time before anything reciprocal happened between them.

Mikasa narrowed her eyes as she came up with an idea.

___________________________

Most of the afternoon had been too hectic to nap, or do anything else. The whole time, he’d stared at Mikasa as she sorted the food they’d gotten, as they cooked lunch and cleaned the rooms in their apartment. And whenever she’d let her hair down, he’d felt himself growing hard.

Jean entered the shower with his cock throbbing with desire for his wife. He needed her. He’d been lusting after her the whole morning, the whole afternoon, and now he was throbbing in his pants for her.

He turned on the warm water and put his head under it, noticing thick droplets of precum leaking out of the tip of him. If he came to her like this after their shower, he would come in his pants before he even got the chance to give her any pleasure.

So, Jean rubbed the length of his cock, slowly at first, thinking about the curve of her neck, her jealous display that morning. He thought of ripping the clothes off her as he rubbed himself more, then he imagined her nipples in his mouth, her perfect beautiful nipples that got so hard so easily…he would make her scream tonight; he would fuck her hard and long.

Jean pressed his forehead against the shower wall, picturing her squirming and shouting, then spilled his own pleasure as the water ran down his back. It was a quick orgasm, just quick enough to hold on during the night.

When he came out of the shower, however, he didn’t find her in their room. There was a little note, hastily written on their recently made bed.

Balcony.

She’d laid out clothes for him; the military suit he’d worn for the signing of the peace accords, years ago. Jean smiled, confused by what she was planning, but he wasn’t one to complain.

He wanted to take her out for dinner; they hadn’t had a date in two months and this little vacation from parenting was the perfect chance for him to spoil her.

Even in his military suit, he found himself severely underdressed when he saw her waiting at the balcony. The sun had started to go down, and the orange colors of the sky matched perfectly with her red, tight dress she had on. She’d put a soft red lipstick on; Mikasa didn’t wear much make up, and he loved her like that, but the sight of her red lips only brought the image of her lovely mouth wrapped tightly around his cock.

Control yourself, dumbass, he told himself.

“Hey,” he said, smiling as he opened the door to their balcony. She’d laid out wine and a table of bread, cheeses and meat. “Are we staying in tonight?”

Mikasa stared at him with a blank face, almost as if…she didn’t know him.

“What’s going on, honey?”

“Why are you calling me your honey?” She asked, and Jean didn’t know whether he ought to be worried or terrified. Of all the things that had happened to them so far, she couldn’t have lost her memory now.

“It’s not funny, Mika,” he said, coming close to her to grab her arm, but his wife pulled away.

“Do you go around touching strangers?” Mikasa asked and, as she turned to face the city, Jean saw the hint of a smile on her face…and understanding came to him. He smirked; so, she wanted to get playful?

You’re naughty, Ackerman, he thought.

“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning back against the thick railings, a careful distance away from her, still close enough to smell her perfume. “You’re just a lovely looking little thing,”

Mikasa didn’t look back at him, but he saw the hints of a blush on her cheeks. He tilted his head to the side; he’d flirted like this many many times in the past. He’d never flirted with her, though. Their love had grown without the need of flirting, as well as their desire for each other. It had been a natural thing, like the thawing of winter, like the arrival of the spring rains.

Flirting with her like this…it amused him. It aroused him.

“Do you go around calling girls ‘thing’?” She said, giving him a sideways glance that showed Jean in full just how blushed she was. Her smiled at her; she wasn’t used to this, and flirting was clearly not her stronghold. “Who are you, anyways?”

Jean poured a glass of wine each before he stepped closer to her. “Who are you?” He asked, his eyes traveling her body up and down. He didn’t hide his desire for her in his gaze; he was telling her without words that he wanted every bit of her, and Mikasa exhaled deeply when he brushed some hair away from her shoulder. “You don’t look like people around here.”

She cracked a little smile at that. “I don’t?”

“You have really pretty black hair,” he said, his smirk becoming bolder.

“Thanks.”

“What’s your name?” Jean asked, his fingers tracing her shoulder, making her shiver.

“Mikasa,” she said in a low voice.

“That name isn’t from around,” Jean raised his eyebrows in fake surprise. “Are you from the island?”

“I grew up in Hizuru,” she said, looking down. “Half of my family is Azumabito.”

“Ah, hizuran royalty? Tilt your head back a bit, please,” Jean said, and Mikasa did as he asked. He put the glass of wine against her lips and she took a couple of sips. “I hope you won’t mind me, lady, I’m just a military officer.”

“What’s your name?” Mikasa asked. There were some droplets of wine on her chin, which Jean wiped off with his index.

“Jean Kirstein, lady,” he said, his finger going up to her mouth, tracing the shape of her lower lip. “Tell me, won’t this get you in trouble?”

“Yes,” Mikasa said, her dark eyes on his. “But I got a night away from my guardians.”

“And you want to be naughty with the first stranger you see?” Jean asked, giving her a wicked smile that brought a tiny surprised yelped out of her. “Won’t you get in serious problems if you’re seen with a lowly official like me?”

“I might,” Mikasa said, biting her lower lip before casting a glance inside their apartment.

“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” Jean asked. “Somewhere you won’t be seen? I would feel terrible if you got into trouble.”

“Do you want to go inside?”

“Yes,” he said. Mikasa nodded and walked back, and just the sight of her hips moving in that dress was enough to get his cock hard once again.

He took the bottle of wine with him, then closed the door and drew the curtains. Mikasa was facing away from him, and Jean took that as an invitation. He pressed himself hard against her back, letting her feel how hard he was with her buttock. Then, he brushed the hair away from her shoulders, uncovering her lovely naked neck.

“Do you have a habit of taking foreign men to bed?” He asked her as he put hot kisses on her neck. Mikasa closed her eyes and tilted her head back, a position that Jean used to feed her some more of that wine, directly from the bottle. A little spilled onto her naked chest, which Jean wiped with his thumb and brought up to her mouth for her to suck on. “Do you have a habit of letting men feel you up like this?”

Mikasa shook her head. “What about you?” She turned around to face him. “Do you have a habit of bringing random girls to your apartment?”

Jean put his hand against her cheek. So that was it. She hadn’t liked seeing that girl, that shadow he barely remembered of his past. She’d seen the way Mikasa had looked at the girl’s dress, and knew her well enough to understand the sight of her hadn’t pleased her.

“Not anymore,” he said, caressing her cheek. He knew he had a past with women, she knew that as well. And he was willing to reassure her as many times as it took, that the idea of even looking at another woman was ridiculous to him, unthinkable. “Not ever again, after you.”

Mikasa leaned into his touch, sighing deeply. “Are you not married, officer Kirstein?”

Jean smiled, they were playing again. “Not yet,” he said, leaning forward again, smelling her perfume and the wine intertwining. “I’d marry you tonight if you let me.”

“I’ll definitely get in trouble for that,” she said, breathing heavily. Jean’s cock was beginning to leak by now. He needed her, so so badly. “I’m only a commoner for tonight.”

“What are you after tonight?” He asked playfully. “A princess?”

Mikasa nodded, and he noticed her squeezing her legs together in anticipation. “I leave tomorrow morning.”

“Can I make the hizuran princess come with my tongue?” He asked in a low voice, getting a moan out of her. Mikasa nodded, her eyes half lidded, full of desire.

Just a nod was all he needed. Jean surrounded her body with his arms and kissed her; their mouths joined together almost desperately, and their tongues found each other quick. Her dress was tight, tight enough for him to perfectly feel the shape of her breasts against his shirt.

Jean took her in his arms and sat her on the small coffee table in their living room. “This is so pretty,” he said as he ran his hands up and down the fabric of her dress. “I don’t want to rip it off.”

“Rip it off,” she asked, and Jean was too aroused to not do so. He would buy her a brand-new dress tomorrow, he thought as he ripped the pretty red fabric to reveal her naked body. Her inner thighs were wet already, and Jean was amazed to see her pussy slick and ready for him.

But no, not yet. He would take his time with her. He would fuck her good and hard all night, but now he would focus on making her come. “Can I see you touch yourself, princess?”

Mikasa propped herself up on one elbow. “What?”

“I want to see you,” Jean said, parting her legs further apart. He wanted to taste her, he wanted her pussy all over his face. But first, he wanted to play some more. “I want you to show me, princess, how you want me to touch you. Please?”

_____________________________

Mikasa hesitated a second. Jean had played with her enough times for her to know what she liked and how she liked it, but he rarely asked to watch. He was in his knees in front of her, his penis bulging in his pants, his face red and full of desire.

She wanted to see more of that expression.

So, Mikasa put her two fingers above the little bulge of pleasure just above her folds and gave a little rub. She was soaked through; a little flirting with Jean and just a few kisses had been enough to leave her like a puddle.

She gave her clit a careful rub, moaning at the touch of her fingers. Then, she rubbed a little more.

“Look at me,” Jean asked. Mikasa kept moving her fingers in a circular motion, then one of Jean’s hand was on her breast, squeezing her nipple with two fingers while his other hand…his other hand brought out his penis, huge and throbbing and beautiful.

The hand on his breast soon went to join the fingers she was using to masturbate. He moved his fingers alongside hers, then introduced two inside her wet slit. All the while, he jerked himself. There were thick beads of white liquid on the head of his cock, which he wiped with two fingers and used to wet her nipples with.

“You are so naughty, princess,” he said, squeezing her breast. “Letting a stranger like me play with you like this,”

His fingers twitched inside her, in that hook like motion she enjoyed so much, and her fingers onn her clitoris became quicker. Her breath became heavier, and she could feel that buildup of pleasure becoming incredibly high. She looked at him the whole time, her eyes set on his body. The muscles in his arms became more prominent when he played with himself, and oh his dick looked so big in his hands, all Mikasa could think about was putting it inside her mouth, or her pussy.

“Jean,” she called, the motions of her fingers becoming quicker. She was so close. “Jean! Ahhh…”

Mikasa tilted her head back, her fingers working nonstop, and arched her back. She was coming now. He took that as another invitation. Jean leaned forward, removed his fingers and pressed his tongue against her entrance just in time to drink up all the juices that leaked out of her with her orgasm.

Mikasa’s moans died down as the waves of her orgasm left her, but Jean didn’t move away. Instead, he pressed his face closer to her pussy, and began licking.

“I need to taste you, princess,” he said, looking up as he ran his tongue alongside her whole and over her folds. His smile was wicked, his eyes pure desire. “I need to taste more of your juices, princess.”

She grabbed his head by the head, suddenly possessed by a sudden urge to dominate him, and brought his face back down onto her pussy. “Taste,” she told him, unsure where the sultry sound in her voice was coming. “Drink all of me,”

Jean became a beast; he buried his face inside her, two fingers inside and his tongue incessantly pulsing against her clit, driving her insane. He knew in which way to move his tongue, he knew exactly what to do and knew how to make her come.

Soon, Mikasa came on his tongue and face again. This time, when she spilled her wetness on him, she was screaming his name. She propped herself up on her elbows again, to look at his face. His nose, mouth and cheeks were covered in wetness. He was oh, so beautiful.

“I’m not done, princess,” he informed her, giving her folds another tentative lick that made her squirm in pleasure. Just how many times would he make her come tonight? “Come up, please.”

Mikasa did as he requested, and soon, Jean wrapped the tie around her eyes. Everything went dark around her, but she could clearly feel his fingers pressing onto her clitoris.

“This way, when they ask you who fucked you all night, you can tell them you don’t know,” he said, using his strong arms to lay her back against the table.

“You’re going to get carried away,” Mikasa moaned. “Let me, let me use my mouth—”

“No, princess,” he said, sucking on her clit before speaking again. “Tonight I’m your servant. I’m your knight, the knight that’s going to make you flood the carpet.”

“I’m supposed to be a commoner tonight,”Mikasa moaned, leaning her head back as he buried his face between her legs. Everything was black, but she could feel his fingers entering her, moving back and forth, she could tell that his tongue was enjoying every bit of her.

“You’re never a commoner, Mikasa,” he said, sucking on her again. “You’re a queen, and a queen must always be treated accordingly.”

________________________

He loved her taste. No, he adored it. And he loved hearing her come, her voice high pitched and full of his name. The juices didn’t stop coming; not the first time, not the second time, not the third. And on the fourth time he made her come, even more juices came out.

His face was soaked by the time he felt like he could take it no longer, and when he came back up to kiss her, he almost said I love you to her.

But no; they were playing just now. And now he was the military official, shamelessly fucking the princess on her diplomatic visit. “Here, come taste yourself,” he said, grabbing her by the back and lifting her up. She parted lips for him without trying to remove the tie from her eyes. He pressed his lips to hers, and her tongue explored his mouth for long minutes.

Her hand was soon stroking his cock; she wanted him, she’d wanted to suck on him earlier, and he hadn’t let her. “You’re eager to learn, aren’t you, princess?”

“I want to make you feel good, officer,” she replied, stroking him harder.“Let me use my tongue.”

Jean pushed her back against the coffee table; there was a puddle on the wood, a puddle that was dripping onto the carpet. He would need to change and clean all of that before the weekend finished.

Her parted legs where right there in front of him, though. Changing the carpet was the least of his worries. Jean leaned forward, rubbing the tip of his penis on her clit, making her moan more.

“Aren’t you going to let me?” She asked; her pale cheeks were completely red, and she was breathing heavily from all the times she’d come. Jean smiled; that sweet face was all he needed.

“We need to make you feel good, princess,” he said, pushing the head of his cock inside her. He knew he was big, he knew how much she enjoyed it when he introduced his dick slowly, letting her feel every inch. Mikasa moaned as her went deeper, her mouth opening into a perfect little O. He couldn’t take it any longer; Jean grabbed the tie and threw it away, needing to see his wife’s eyes as he pushed deep inside.

“Jean,” she moaned, giving him a lusty gaze. “All the way,”

“Yes, princess,” he said, pushing his whole length inside her, making her yelp. “We’ll do this a couple of times, okay? I want you to go back home well fucked.”

“Hard,” she asked, her voice sweet and and pleasure filled. “Fuck your princess hard,”

Jean pushed inside of her and then came out, then he came back down, making her moan out loud. She brought a hand up to her mouth, almost as if to stifle her moans. Fuck, she was cute. “Hey,” he said, grabbing her hand gently and pressing it against the table, exposing her mouth. “There’s just us home, okay? Be as loud as you want,”

“But—” a moan escaped her throat as he thrusted inside her.

“Let me hear you scream, princess,” he said, thrusting slowly, with one of his hands rubbing on her clit. “Let me hear you scream.”

“Jean!” She moaned as he thrusted quicker. This is exactly what he wanted; he wanted her loud, he wanted her driven to the edge with pleasure, he wanted her sweaty and all to himself. This is what he’d been thinking about all day.

“Fuck, I love you,” he moaned against her ear. “You’re such a good princess,”

“Mine,” Mikasa moaned, wrapping her arms around his back, kissing him on the lips with urgency as he pumped inside her. “You’re mine, Kirstein. Mine,”

“All yours,” he moaned as well, feeling himself getting closer and closer to his orgasm. “I’m going to cum soon.”

“Inside me,” she panted.

Jean chuckled against her ear. “Do you want to get pregnant, your highness?” He said, thrusting nonstop, feeling thick beads of sweat on his forehead. “Do you want to return home with my child in your belly?”

“I’m not going back,” she screamed; so, his fingers were working wonders. “I’m staying here!”

“Wanna get fucked some more?” Jean asked.

“Yes!”

“Want me to come inside?” Jean asked, his knees weaker, his balls tight with the closeness of his orgasm. “Want me to fill you up?”

“Fill me, Jean,” Mikasa said, opening her mouth, now screaming in full. The quiet, collected princess she’d played transformed into a lustful, insatiable woman. “Fill me!”

“I’ll fill you all the fucking time, princess,” he promised, groaning more and more like an animal. He needed to come, he would go mad if he didn’t. “I’ll fill all of your holes, princess, I promise.”

“I love you,” Mikasa said, grabbing him by the neck to press her forehead against his. Jean kissed her, unable to hold back any longer. He spilled his seed inside her, with his lips still on hers, muffling her moans of pleasure as she came again from his fingers. Their orgasms had the strength of an explosion, and both of them shouted into each other’s mouth as their pleasure spilled on each other.

Jean crumbled on top of her chest, breathless. He was still pulsing inside her, his dick half-hard in her sweet, warm wetness.

“I love you, Mika,” he said, kissing her neck and recalling their game. “Oh sorry, I love you,’princess.”

Mikasa smiled at him, her face red and tired. “Did you like it?”

“I love everything we do,” he said, kissing her lips again. “But I think we’ll do this princess-knight thing more often. It’s so hot.”

Her smile wavered a little, and Jean felt his heart tightening by the sight of her sudden disappointment. He cupped her face, giving her another kiss on the lips. “What is it? Didn’t you like it?”

“I loved it,” she said, looking away from him. “It’s just…do you miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“Getting women like this,” she said, closing her eyes. “You know, one-night stands. Do you miss sleeping with your rich friends?”

Jean stopped smiling, then kissed her cheek. “Did you do this whole roleplay thing because of that?” He asked her. “Did you do it because you thought I missed hooking up?”

Mikasa opened her eyes, then shook her head. “I wanted to play, I wanted…” she admitted, a little ashamed. “I wanted you, but I also wanted to see what it was like. I wanted to see the Jean that seduced all those women.”

"That Jean and this Jean are the same, Mika,” he said, brushing away the hair sticking to her forehead. “Honey, you’ve got all of me. All of me. I don’t need another woman, I don’t miss those days.”

“You don’t?”

“Not at all,” Jean said, placing another kiss on her lips. “I make love to the woman I love, to the mother of my child, to the woman I crushed on for years.”

Mikasa giggled a little at that, making him smile wider. That laughter was only for him and their daughter; that laughter was enough for him to be sure he wanted nothing other than the woman in front of him (or under him, if he had to be accurate).

“Mikasa Ackerman, I adore you with every bit of my being,” he said, cupping her face again. “I don’t want anyone else. I don’t miss the empty, loveless sex. All I want is to make love to you, and have you love me back. I love flirting with you, and I love it when we get naughty, but that doesn’t mean I miss any part of my life as a single man.”

“I love you, Jean,” she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I adore everything about you, too.”

“And I adore making love to you,” Jean said, reaching for her neck. He kissed her again, and the little gasp she did was enough to get him hard again. “Making love to you and then waking up next to you brings me more happiness than anyone before ever did. Mikasa, you’re my one and only.”

“And you are mine,” she said, grabbing his face between two hands and kissing him for a long time before letting go. “Hey, Jean?”

“Yeah?”

“Make love to me again.”

__________________

She had her hands between her legs while he fucked her from behind. After the living room, they’d taken a shower together, then he’d carried her to their room, where he’d licked her some more.

At some point, she’d managed to use her mouth to suck every ounce of pleasure out of him. But Jean’s stamina was unbelievable, and he’d soon been ready to go again. They were young in any case, and being parents had kept them too busy to have a proper go at lovemaking the past few months.

“Jean,” she moaned, hearing the steady slap of his body against hers as he pushed inside of her from behind.

Jean leaned forward, moving his hips in and out of her, then kissed her ear. “What is it, my princess?”

“The sun is coming out,” she said, pointing at the window. Indeed, there was a hint of orange in the horizon, and the birds were starting to sing outside. “You…”

“It had been a while since we fucked all night, right?” He teased, taking her earlobe in his mouth and sucking. Mikasa rubbed herself faster; she could feel when he was close to coming, she could hear it in his voice. “I love fucking you all night, princess. I love filling you everywhere.”

“You filled me…so good,” she said. He went quicker too, then put his hand on her nipple and squeezed. “Together, Jean,”

“Huh? What, baby?”

Mikasa gritted her teeth, he was groaning so hard nowhis thrust were so rough. “Let’s cum together,” she moaned, and Jean went quicker at her words. Mikasa moved her fingers faster against her clit. “Fill me again, fill me again,”

“I’ll fill you every time. I’ll fuck you good every time, princess. I promise you won’t regret staying here,” he promised. He was so good at talking filthy, much better than her, and his deep, pleasure filled voice was perfect.

Then, he buried one hand inside her hair to pull on it. He tilted her head back, and Jean kissed her long and deep, moaning into her mouth as they both climaxed.

They crumbled on the bed next to each other. While she’d made a little puddle in the living room, their bedroom sheets were downright soaked because of her. “I love you,” she whispered as she settled into his arms. “We shouldn’t drive to the beach today.”

“Want to do it some more?” He said, giving her a smirk that made her blush despite everything they’d done since last night.

“I mean because we didn’t sleep at all, Kirstein,” she said, giving him a gentle shove. Jean laughed and she settled onto his chest, closing her eyes to enjoy the sound of his beating heart.

“I love you, Mika,” he said.

“I love you too,” Mikasa looked up at him, suddenly feeling silly for her jealousy burst the previous day. “Hey, Jean?”

“Yes, darling?”

“We’re not going out for dinner with that girl.”

Jean’s chest went up and down in a deep chuckle. “I had no plans to do that, Mika,”

“And if she talks to you again…”

Jean tugged her chin upwards, but his smile wasn’t sarcastic, it wasn’t mocking. His smile, his eyes, his whole expression was nothing but love, and all that it did was make Mikasa fall even harder for him. “If she talks to me again, I’ll show her all the pictures I carry of you in my wallet, and I’ll tell her there is nobody more perfect.”

“Jean, not all of them,” she whispered, recalling one in particular he’d taken the last time his mother had looked after their baby.

“Oh no that’s just for me,” jean said, nuzzling her neck. “Just like you are, right?”

Mikasa nodded, letting him kiss her neck again. “Just yours, all of me,” she assured him. “And you are mine?”

“Body and soul, Ackerman,” he said, smiling against her neck. “All of me.”

[say-the-name-sebongie]

Princely Problems

Synopsis: Where a princess-love-story-unbeliever meets a prince-like gentleman named Joshua

Pairing: Joshua x fem!reader

Genre: tiny bit angst, fluff somewhere at the end

Warnings: drinking, harassment, violence

Word Count: 3k words

Fairytales were fictional. _____ had already had that down. Princes that saved princesses from abnormally high towers or mad dragons didn’t exist and love stories weren’t what Disney had made them to be. Those fictional movies just made little girls hope for something that could never exist: a perfect love story

Out of all the relationships she had been in, not one of them proved to have a Disney-like fairytale happy ending. In fact, none of them had happy endings. Men only pretended to be princes that would swoop in to save you when you needed it. But even that façade only lasted so long. Men only wanted you for a night, a month, or not at all.

This was why _____ wasn’t fazed (or as fazed as she would like to admit) when the epitome of gentle princely men knelt down beside her, asking if she was okay after her fall on the sidewalk from running too fast to catch a cab to work. He didn’t seem to care that some strands of his perfectly styled hair had fallen down over his eyes as he looked over her for any injuries.

“I’m fine, seriously.” She said as she got up while holding onto the lamppost beside her and pretending not to notice that the guy had held out his hand to help her, taking note that her left ankle was definitely sprained. The boy’s doe-like eyes looked into hers and it took all of _____’s willpower not to nervously swallow under his stare.

“My name’s Joshua and I don’t think you’re okay.” The boy— Joshua— said as he slipped an arm behind her and led her to one of the houses nearby.

“What the heck! Where are you taking me?” _____ panicked. Joshua just laughed, the sun shining on his glorious face as he threw his head back. “This is my house and no, I’m not going to do anything to you. I’ll leave the door unlocked and open if that makes you feel safer but that sprained leg needs to be iced.”

Needless to say, the boy made this “prince” thing look very natural.

Over the next few days, Joshua continued to keep up his princely façade. It was like he was actually born from royalty. The amount of grace and politeness that exuded from his form made _____ gag. He was almost too perfect. Everything he did was considered kind. Helping old ladies cross the street, holding the door open to let the pregnant lady into the shop, carrying groceries for that old man that lived at the end of the street, and basically any action kind and princely. He was just mortifyingly nice.

Not only that but he was mortifyingly nice even to _____ who turned down his many attempts to be of service to her. She didn’t let him open the door for her when they coincidentally went to the same café, grabbing the door handle along with him to open it herself. Nor did she let him help her change her car tire. _____ was fooled once, okay maybe more than once but she wasn’t going to be fooled again. Not by a guy who pretended to be nice. Not by some kind boy who lived a few houses over and made her heart do parkour routines in her chest every time they met. Not by Joshua, and that was final.

So far, Joshua hadn’t gotten tired of her refusals. He was still as nice as he was when they had first met. _____ pitied the girl who would fall for him. There weren’t a lot of people who wouldn’t believe that Joshua was just pretending.

“Joshua sure is one good actor,” she mumbled to herself as she walked.

“You should wear a jacket if you’re going out today.” Speak of the devil. _____ turned around and saw the embodiment of princely behavior graciously standing with a leaf blower in his hands, yard nearly rid of any leaves that had recently started falling. “It's autumn now so the nights are gonna be colder.”

She didn’t miss the way his eyes drifted to her legs, exposed by the short dress she was wearing, before coming back up to rest on her face. Typical men. They just can’t help themselves can they, _____ thought scoffed. The neighborhood prince’s face was contorted with worry as if he was afraid that she’d get cold. _____ gave a laugh in response. “I can take care of myself.” She told him before going her way.

-----

Getting drunk was part of the plan. _____ had agreed to go out with her friends from work to get her mind off the angelic creature that had been reaching out and offering his help bothering and pestering her all week. The bar was full of people, music, and alcohol. No princes and no Joshua. Just what she needed tonight.

Her friends immediately went to the dance floor, their eyes wide open and hunting for someone to take home for the night. _____ sat at the bar and watched them as she took shot after shot, drowning any thoughts of Joshua. One shot. Princes didn't exist. Another shot. His real personality would show itself sooner or later. Shot glasses gathered up in front of her as she drank alcohol as if it was water.

"That's enough alcohol for you sweetheart. Why don't I take you outside for some fresh air?" An unfamiliar man's voice said. _____ turned to her right and saw a man reaching for her thigh, his oily hair slicked back and his wild eyes peering over her form. Even in her dunked stupor she noticed that he wasn't looking at her face but at her chest and thighs.

Disgusted, she pushed him away and stumbled to the dance floor in search of her friends. The man followed her closely, his invasive eyes never leaving her body. People bumped and pushed against her, making it hard to make an escape from the man. Soon enough _____ found herself stuck in the middle of the dance floor with the man pressing his pelvis against her back.

"Go away! " she tried to shout at him, but the loud music and chatter drowned out her cry. The man smiled behind her as his hands went lower towards the hem of her dress. _____ pushed hard against him and bolted out of the bar.

She ran out of the exit and was met with the ice-cold air of the night. That apparently was not enough to make the man stop pursuing her because he was still hot on her trail. Desperate to get away from the man, _____ managed to stumble to the main road when suddenly her heel got caught on a stone and she twisted her ankle rather painfully. The girl let out a loud cry of pain.

"Get up, hurry." a new male's voice came as the speaker's warm hands softly gripped her forearms, pulling her up. In the light of the moon, _____ looked up at Joshua’s face. His usually warm eyes were now boiling with anger as he stared at something behind her.

"Josh, my ankle," _____ whined, the alcohol hitting her again and momentarily forgetting that she didn’t want anything to do with Joshua tonight. Light and shadow blended together. The boy sighed and removed his jacket, wrapping it around her legs before positioning his arms around and under her to lift her up.

This was the first time that she had seen Joshua up close. Of course, every time he tried to come near her, she just pushed him away. Her eyes focused on the lines of his face as if it were a camera. He was so annoyingly nice and attractive that her heart started beating faster.

"Come in girlie, let's have some fun at my place." the man said as he came running towards _____. Joshua stood up protectively in front of her. If a fight broke out between him and the man, it was obvious Joshua would win. But the man was too blinded by his desire for pleasure to think straight. He barreled towards _____, reaching down to touch her when Joshua grabbed his arm, pulled him to eye level, and stared him down.

"Leave. Her. Alone." he threw the man to the ground and kicked him for good measure. It was surprising to see this side of Joshua. The warm man who seemed like he couldn't even hurt a fly was now inflamed with anger and beating up a stranger. The fire in his eyes didn’t subside even as he kicked the man over and over.

"Joshua, stop," _____ said as she reached up to tug on his shirt, letting out a yelp as she accidentally moved her ankle. Joshua looked back at her, his wide, warm, worrying eyes meeting hers as he came to her aid. "Don't beat him up, it's not worth it."

"Sorry, it's just that guys like him disgust me," he said as he scooped _____ up and headed off. She heard a car beep before he laid her in the passenger seat of his car. He then went to the driver's seat and started the car.

"You followed me?" _____ asked him, earning a smile from the man beside her. "I figured something would happen to you, especially in that dress." his warm, gentle voice washed over her. He looked up at her and winked. The girl rolled her eyes and looked out the window. Joshua was too attractive for her own good. _____ really had to get him out of her head or she might end up falling for a prince again.

-----

_____ woke up with the worst headache she had ever had in her life. She was still in the dress from last night, her foot bandaged and Joshua's jacket draped over her.

Joshua's jacket?

That woke her up. Clearly, she was in her house and sitting on her couch which meant that Joshua had come into her house but had the decency not to go into her room. The fact that she was still in her clothes from last night meant he hadn't tried to undress her.

Why did he have to be such a natural gentleman?

Getting up off the couch, _____ made her way to the kitchen where she found a post-it note sticking on the refrigerator door.

I put some of the hangover soup my mom made in here. Heat it up and eat that when you wake up. Call me if you need anything. - Shua

Below the last sentence was a series of numbers. _____ smiled and saved the number into her contacts. As much as she didn’t want to have anything to do with Joshua anymore, she would have to thank him sooner or later. She had to admit, he was really thoughtful to have done all this. The familiar warm bubbling in her chest from last night came back. _____ shook her head.

It's not real, _____. Don’t start falling for him now.

A knock on her door shook her out of her thoughts. The face of the prince greeted her when she opened it. His kind eyes immediately looked down at her injured foot before the scolding started.

"Why are you already walking around? You're injured, for goodness' sake." He demanded, grabbing her arms and pushing her back into the house.

"Joshua I- Wait-"

He dragged her inside and sat her back down on the couch. Joshua placed down the paper bag he was holding and went straight to the kitchen and brought out the hangover soup. _____ felt like her chest was about to burst. She knew this feeling and this was something she promised herself never to feel again.

He’s not a prince. He’s not a prince. He’s not a prince. He’s not a prince.

"Aren't you tired of pretending to be nice Joshua?" _____ huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest. The girl couldn't wait for Joshua to snap, to prove her wrong so she could go back to believing that Disney stories were plain fiction. With that, she would have enough reason to not like him and go back to her normal life.

"What do you mean pretending? This is how I always am though?" Joshua said, his head peeking out of the kitchen. When he saw that _____ wasn't convinced, he walked over to her and looked her in the eyes.

"Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

Feeling guilty, _____ looked down at the floor. To be perfectly honest, there was nothing Joshua had done that would ever even make her question his kindness. He has been nothing but kind to her and to everyone around him. However, her belief still stands.

“You should probably stop being so nice and princely to me. I don’t believe in those Disney movies that say men will sweep you off your feet and carry you to happily ever after. I’ve been through enough to know what men are truly like. I know you’re not Prince Charming and you can’t make me think otherwise.” _____ hissed before pulling him to the door.

“Thank you for bringing me home last night and for bringing me the soup but I’m not going to fall for another nice guy like you, Joshua.” And with that, she closed the door leaving a stunned Joshua staring at her peephole.

For the next few days, Joshua left _____ alone. No greeting when they passed each other on the street. Heck, it was like they didn’t even know each other. The boy continued to be of help and service to the other people in their neighborhood but he had cut all contact with _____.

The change made _____ happy. Her feelings for Joshua had faded away and she was able to go about her life without that fake prince tempting her with his sweet words and actions. Or so she would like to think.

After kicking Joshua out of her house, he invaded every second of her time. She couldn’t think of anything but him. _____ couldn’t admit it, but she missed having someone greet her in the morning on the way to work. She missed him coming over to her house once in a while to give her some mashed potatoes because he had made too much. The girl lay in bed at night haunted by the warmth of a person she had pushed out of her life. Though _____ wouldn’t admit it to anyone, she missed Joshua.

Christmas time came around and the snow had started piling up in her yard. Shoveling snow was the only thing she could do without thinking of the boy that lived a few houses over so she did it every time she could. _____ shoved piles of ice out of her yard banning all thoughts of princes and boys. It was just her, the shovel, and the ice. Right now, nothing matters, she thought to herself. Her shovel got stuck on a rather large chunk of ice. She pushed with all her might but the ice stubbornly stood its ground.

The sound of footsteps on the snow made her look up to see the very face she had been avoiding to see. Joshua was standing at the edge of her yard with a shovel in his hands. “Do you need help?”

His offer took _____ aback. This was the same guy she kicked out of her house a few weeks ago, right? The guy who she had called a fake. And here he was, offering his help to the girl who had done all that to him.

“It’s fine. I don’t want to bother you.” She gave a forced smile and hoped he would leave her alone after that.

I don’t want to have to kick you out of my life again.

The boy shrugged his shoulders. “You could never bother me _____. If it makes you feel better, you can help me shovel my yard too.”

Seeing that he was adamant about helping her, _____ gave in. The two worked side by side in silence. After finishing Joshua’s yard, he offered her some hot chocolate to which _____ only agreed to because her teeth were already chattering.

As she sat in his living room, looking around at the Christmas decorations already put up. A fire was roaring in the fireplace. She could hear the tinkling of the teaspoon hitting the mugs as Joshua mixed the hot chocolate.

“Don’t you hate me, Joshua?” _____ asked him, nervously fiddling with her hands on her lap.

The boy’s laugh rang in her ears, making her cheeks turn red. Weeks of trying to forget him went to waste as her feeling came back to the surface. “Why would I hate you?”

“Didn’t you get offended that I kicked you out of my house after you were only trying to be nice to me?”

“Of course, not. You had a perfectly good reason to be suspicious of me and I figured that you just needed time to sort your feelings out.” He handed _____ a glass of hot chocolate.

“Feelings?” Did she accidentally tell him something? _____ didn’t remember ever telling anyone, even her own friends, about how she felt for Joshua.

“You probably don’t remember but you’re kinda talkative when you’re drunk. Plus, you called me a prince that one time so it was safe to assume that you probably saw me that way.” _____ turned to the side to hide her blush. Curse the drinking habit she had to have.

“And for your information, I like you too,” he said, turning her head towards him and forcing _____ to meet his glittering eyes as the girl nervously swallowed. There was no turning back now, their feelings were out in the open. All that was needed was their decision on what to do with them.

“Give me a chance to prove you wrong, princess.”

[amenomiko]

Thank you for the request, @crossmix ❤❤❤❤❤

Lancelot

-Will make Kyle to check on her every hour.

-Yes, every hour. Until our poor doctor roll his eyes saying that Lancelot is being paranoid.

-"I'm not paranoid, I'm just worried. Alice is important to me, she is the light of my life, the flower to my-"

-"Save that speech for later when you serenade her will you? Now let me tend to other patients in peace!"

-He will be out from his uniform, so he can wet his sleeves to put the towel on her forehead, and MC find his furry cape on her to keep her warm.

-Lancelot.exe also couldn't be found in his office as he practically move his work to be in the bedroom so he can look after her all the time.

-Panicked Jonah: My King this is where you were 😭😭😭😭😭😭!!!!

-Lancelot: Shhh... She is sleeping. Now report your tasks in whispers.

-Jonah and Edgar: *In whispers* Okay 👌.

Jonah

-He is the.. Panicked 101 and flustered boyfriend ever live.

-But he still want to show that he is a genius.

-Edgar: That's not how this.. "Fever Pads" work, Jonah.

-Jonah: Be quiet Edgar, I know what I'm doing!

-Kyle: No you are OBVIOUSLY NOT. Even though this item is not from our world, at least read the bloody instructions on the back! It just needs one fever pad. ONE. Putting all 10 pads like a layer cake won't suck out the heat faster like you assume!

-Meanwhile, MC: *Half asleep* Layer cake? Caaaake? Yaaaaaay \(+ w +)/~~~~ *K.O back to bed*

-Them: (　☉_⊙)...

-Jonah: Oh my poor, poor Alice 😭. I promise I will get you all the layer cake in cradle 😭😭😭😭😭!!!

-Crying mess.

-Most probably will go to Black Army and ask Luka for help. In snots and tears.

Edgar

-Just like Lancelot, he will do his work next to her. Despite having a room that has no separation between working table and the bed, he moved his table to be beside her.

-80% of the time will be with her. 20% is with works and tasks.

-If he have to train his people, he will only spend a good 15 minutes and passes the task to Zero, making an escape from it just to be with her.

-His face may show his usual smile, but every time MC coughs, it would be replaced with a genuine concern.

-Constant kisses on her forehead, silent pray that he'd rather get the sickness than her.

-But when MC said "I will be sad if you are sick too, Edgar.", then he quickly finish his work, just to be with her more and more.

-Ending up with sleeping next to her.

Zero

-" (´・ｪ・｀)......"

-"( ´･ω･)....."

-MC: I'm fine, really. You have been staring at me for almost an hour, Zero.

-"I'm worried."

-"I know,..But it doesn't mean you have to keep an eye on me all the time. This fever will go away soon. So don't worry okay?"

-Zero: *Dejected Face 101* ...Okay. *Goes out + peeks with (´・ｪ・｀) face again before completely go out.*

-He is worried, so, so worried that he is distracted, even when Edgar replaced his sword with a random object-- he didn't pay attention to it.

-Zero is practically the stoic type. Yet being his lover, MC could read his mind and expressions very well. He will hold her hand every time she's asleep, and ended up sleeping on the chair, resulting him to be the one who gets sick next.

Kyle

-Doctor mode all the way.

-He will let go of his love for beer and be with her 24/7, literally.

-But well. The way he checked on her temperature would be "Boyfriend" like.

-Forehead on forehead, feeding medicine through mouth to mouth, making MC's temperature to go up from the heat of... Blushing too much.

-"Can you just feed me normally??"

-"It helps you to sleep faster. Why not?" He smirked, taping her nose playfully.

-"Now now don't pout so much. You will be a red balloon you know?"

-*Kiss*

-"Ah, she fainted."

Ray

-Will tease her for being sick first, but after that he is the day and night walking surveillance.

-Despite teasing her for being a weak kiddo, his smile will instantly fade once she have fallen asleep, showing how worried he is but putting a strong facade at her.

-Constant kissing on forehead and a caress on her head with soft whispers of "Get well soon. I miss your adorable smile."

-Couldn't focus during training, and the army watch how he keep on looking back and forth from the window of her room.

-Pamper her by feeding her porridge (most probably will cook one without asking for Luka or Sirius's help)

-Ends up sleeping in his uniform beside her and woke up with a bad hair bed.

Sirius

-Always denies that he is not the mom.

-He IS. Especially when his lover is sick.

-"Wear this. No that is not thick enough, we need to keep you warm. And this as well. This one too. And this. Hmm? It's more than enough? Little lady, the weather is chilly we must keep you warm."

-Cue MC sighing to the thick jacket, scarf, socks and gloves as if winter is coming.

-Pat her to sleep, just like a mom will do, making it hard for her to sleep (because his handsome face is so near, that is why!)

-MC had to feign a sleep in order for him to go out from the room so she can secretly take off those wooly thicky fabric ahsheskdf OAO!

Fenrir

-Was very calm until MC's temperature went high.

-Almost consider to ask Oliver to make a gun where it makes someone's body to become healthy again.

-Oliver: Just relax will you? Kyle would ask if he is a joke as an existing doctor!

-Skipped training with his army for almost a week just to take care of her.

-He even clean his gun and bring all of his works to his room.

-MC, feeling guilty, have no choice but to ask him with "Fenrir, I can't sleep. There's something lurking under the bed, that's why--"

-Before she could finish her words, he already run out from the room, but come back again to bring her together with him.

-Attempt to stop him - Failed completely.

Luka

-Oh, endless pampering.

-From soup to porridge and any soft food, it is delicious that she wouldn't mind getting sick everyday.

-Luka: Please don't say it like that. I'm sad whenever you are sick, I just miss your beautiful smile, MC-.. MC?? What's wrong?? What? Angel?? What-- MC hang in there!! *Horrifying gasp when she fainted 😱😱😱😱😱*

-It's hard to stay awake, especially when he is being so sweet, letting her sleep on his chest for example-- oh! He is too sweet she could get cavities 😩!

-"Luka... I can't do that. What if you get sick?"

-"Much better than you getting sick instead, MC."

-And she fainted again.

Seth

-Panic 404 and an endless shrieking the moment MC fainted in the room, him checking her temperature, until he brings her to her chamber.

-Running frantically to get all preparations needed, causing ruckus despite being told to calm down by Sirius.

-Throughout the time she was sick, he will show the girly sisterly seth,

-But the moment he close the door, his real self popped up. "MC.. How are you? I'm sorry for not being able to notice that you were not feeling well."

-"No.. I'm sorry for being sick at this time. Just need to get those sweat off and I will be fine (♡´▽`♡)."

-He smirked. "I know a better method to do that."

-Fast forward, the very next day after using such "method", the black army is confused of why Seth is the one who caught the fever and MC is completely healed.

-Cough.

Harr

-He looks calm all the time, but he's NOT.

"(´・ｪ・｀)...." Another one that will sit beside her bed just to check on her every chances he got. Which is, after he feed her food and meds, after cooking for loki, after making magic crystals, after leaving his work to Dalim, after fishing some fish and etc.

-"Hmm? You don't have to worry about Magic Tower. I want to be here." .....After a moment of hesitation, he brings himself to kiss her forehead.

-Agshdgakskkff BLUSH when she smiled.

-"Harr.. I want to eat your delicious food once I'm all better."

-"Of course, MC. I promise you I will cook everything. Get well soon."

-He didn't break the promise though.

-MC's face to all, ALL the food on the table: (☉д⊙)

Oliver

-"What? You have a fever? Heh, what do I expect from a dimwit like you anyway?"

-Says the one who moved ALL his work to the bedroom. And drinks tea there. And have his meal there. Leaving Blanc all to himself with his carrot cake.

-Not the romantic type to caress her head when she's awake but do so when she's asleep.

-High on alert whenever she coughs, where he instantly move around the room to get a glass of water and change the cloth on her forehead.

-"Oliver.. I'm sorry to get in a way with your work."

-He smirks, leaning forward for a kiss, saying "Just get well soon, hmm?" before showering her with another series of kisses.