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coco-loco-nut · 3 months ago

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007

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: meeting your soulmate in the paddock isn’t unusual for F1 drivers, but oscar’s certainly leans on the unusual side

a/n: sorry if it’s a bit of the mess! i’ve been trying to write my way out of writers block

masterlist part two requests open

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You are crazy, you have to be. At least, that’s what Oscar thought when he watched the mark on his arm change for the third time that day. You put yourself in more danger than he does, and that says a lot. It wasn’t always that way, not until five years ago when it became more and more frequent. The shared talent he gets from you is no help. Analytical and multilingual, you could be anyone. Based on how often you are in danger for long stretches, he is a little sure that you are a mobster. Being able to speak Russian and Italian fluently doesn’t help with the whole mobster thing.

You didn’t know what to think of your soulmate. At first you assumed he was a criminal, the meter on your arm only shifting to danger for a relatively short period of time for a few weeks. However, it has become regular, throwing you off. Maybe a weekend adrenaline junkie? No, probably organized crime. Besides, you are skilled at driving fast, and what adrenaline junkie has a talent for fast driving.

“We have intel that there will be a deal made at the Belgian Grand Prix. Both parties are guests of Sauber as to not draw suspicion. Everything you will need is in this file, a car will pick you up tonight, good luck,” you anxiously sit through your briefing.

You have been tracking a crime ring for the past year and a half, putting yourself in all kinds of compromising positions just to get information. Formula One though, that’s new to you. You have seen some things from former partners who followed it, but you weren’t interested.

It isn’t uncommon for crime groups to use large events for “networking.” It is under the guise of their shell companies. You studied your character ruthlessly, knowing your cover inside and out.

The race approached much quicker than you’d like. The situation isn’t helped by a weird feeling in your stomach. Not nerves, but something else. You shake it off, the mission is what is important. The paddock awaits, and you have a limited striking time.

Oscar was on edge. Something felt off, even though he went through his race routine like always. He did have a questionable pastry, but there wasn’t any mold, so it was okay. He slides his sleeve up, looking at the meter on his arm. Lando doesn’t miss how his teammate’s face paled.

“You okay?” Lando asks, trying to catch a glimpse of the meter on Oscar’s arm.

“Yeah, just realized I forgot to call my sister,” Oscar lies. He’s a little scared for the day he meets you. What kind of mobster commits crime on a Sunday? Maybe you got taken by an enemy, got caught sneaking around. Logan always told him that he was crazy for assuming his soulmate is a criminal, but all signs point to it. Some fresh air is what he needs.

“Why don’t we take a walk?” your target says as you flash a charming smile, anything to get information. It helps that the conversation is in Russian, adding to confidentiality of everything.

You feel a deep pull, like a yearning, as you agree to the walk. You brush it off, the mission is top priority.

“Can you provide some more benefits of the… investment,” you are a little unsure of what to call it. You are keenly aware of the weapons strapped to the side of your target. You weren’t expecting to be meeting with an enforcer, making the job trickier.

“Perhaps. I will if you can answer this question,” you feel your anxiety spike as you keep a calm and cool demeanor. The pull increases and it takes every ounce of will to keep yourself focused. You got most of the information you need, but you need to fish for more. You don’t really notice the target turning you into a quieter part of the paddock.

Oscar lets his feet lead the way, a little out of it. He doesn’t really notice you ahead, tucked in a relatively secluded alley of the paddock. He’s always been able to sneak around, a blessing in times like this.

“Who invited you to the meeting,” he asks, and you internally breathe a sigh of relief. Your team scanned through the information to make sure there was nothing included to trip you up, and this is something that was deemed clear.

“Peter,” you say a little too confidently, and that’s when you notice him reach for the knife on his side. You also notice the civilian looking at his soulmate meter rather than where he is walking, and at that moment it spikes further into the danger. The brief distraction is enough to put you at a disadvantage. You shove the stranger behind you, getting him out of the way as you. Sparks fly as you touch him, but you don’t pay any mind to it. Eyes trained on the target, you do everything you can to avoid being stabbed as you pull out your own knife.

Oscar feels a twinge on his arm and slides up the sleeve, looking at his mark. He feels himself get yanked, and he turns his attention to the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He takes a few steps back into safety and watches. Every alarm bell in his mind tells him to run away, but he can’t seem to walk away.

You kick the knife away, quickly working to disarm the target and press him against a wall, your own knife to his throat. You subtly activate your tracker, getting discreet backup.

“Tell me who runs the operation. Now.” you snarl in Russian, slightly putting pressure on his neck with the knife. The target spits beside you, you press further. “I recommend you don’t mess with me if you want to be alive.”

The information you want comes flowing out as you take a little pleasure at the fear in his eyes.

“There, happy? Let me go,” the target says and you smile wickedly. Dropping your act now would only hurt you, so you let him think you are part of a rival crime ring.

“Not quite,” you flip him around so he is facing the wall. You sheathe the knife, using your weight to brace him to the wall. “It’s a shame I couldn’t spill some blood, oh well,” you play your role, speaking in a bored yet maniacal tone. Your backup arrives and takes over for you, arresting the target.

As the adrenaline fades, you remember the guy lurking behind you. You feel the heat of anger flare up. Couldn’t he see you were dealing with something dangerous? Why wouldn’t he turn around and walk away.

Oscar can’t help but feel happy that he finally has your attention, and if the pull he feels and the danger levels that his arm displays is any indication, he just met his soulmate. Plus, you speak multiple languages, who else would he get that from that’s in the immediate vicinity. He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

“Are you stupid! What are you doing walking in on that? And sticking around? That was a very dangerous situation, you know,” you fume, not looking at him, too busy firing off angry texts to your commander.

“I was right, my soulmate is a criminal,” Oscar says, a little shocked.

“That guy was your soulmate? Tough luck,” you can’t help but laugh a little. You look at him for the first time and feel your heart beat quicken as every instinct is drawn to him.

“No, you are,” Oscar says as your eyebrow quirks, as if you don’t believe him. And you don’t believe him, it isn’t in your nature.

“Well, I’m not a criminal. Sorry to break it to you. Besides, I know that my soulmate is a criminal, so unless you have a dark side, you aren’t him,” you brush it off, still ignoring the intense pull towards the brunette who is creeping closer to you.

“But-“

“Look, I gotta go,” you quickly take a once over of him, ready to look him up when you are back to safety. You disappear almost into thin air, leaving Oscar confused.

“Oscar? What are you doing here? Is that blood?” Logan stares at his friend.

“I think I just met my soulmate,” Oscar says, a little flabbergasted. Now he knows where his talent for being stealthy comes from. He wonders if you got his driving ability.

“Right. That doesn’t explain blood. You know what, you need to get ready for the drivers parade,” Logan shakes his head, helping his friend get back on track.

Oscar Piastri. That’s who Google tells you that you encountered. He’s handsome, you will admit that. A quick research tells you everything you need. Your soulmate, in fact, was not a criminal. A minor win in your mind.

After your paperwork and evidence submission, you know you can’t return to Sauber, so you choose to walk around instead. A change of clothes and hairstyles helps to hide your identity.

You easily slip into the McLaren motorhome, it is a little sad how easily you have gotten past Formula One’s security. You wait in Oscar’s drivers room for him, feeling uncomfortable and nervous. You don’t like the feeling.

Your job is too dangerous for a soulmate, you’ve seen how devastating it is for those whose soulmate never returns from a mission. You couldn’t do that to someone, so why do you find yourself needing to see Oscar again.

Oscar feels the now familiar tug as he gets out of his car, and he’s never been happier to get P4. He makes his way to his room as quickly as possible, rush in through his post-race procedures.

“You’re here. How are you here?” Oscar sees you leaning against the wall of his drivers room.

“It is embarrassing how easily I can get past the security here,” you have a hint of a smile on your face.

“So, if you aren’t a criminal, who are you?” Oscar swallows, a little nervous. His only knowledge of you is that you are highly dangerous and semifrequently in danger.

“I can’t tell you that. Brilliant race today, maybe I will actually watch one for once,” you walk towards him, and he feels his heart leap in his chest. You slip a card into his hand as you head to the door. “Oh, and thanks for the driving skills. It’s gotten me out of quite a few situations,” you smirk, disappearing once again. Oscar looks down at the card in his hand.

Y/n L/n. Special Services.

In neat penmanship you wrote down a series of numbers, and a note to burn the card after saving the number. Oscar races to the window that overlooks the only exit of the building, but you had already disappeared into the crowd.

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 grid #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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iwanthermidnightz · 1 year ago

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When I think back on the Speak Now album, I get a lump in my throat. I have a feeling it will always be that way, because this period of time was so vibrantly aglow with the last light of the setting sun of my childhood. I made this album, completely self-written, between the ages of 18 and 20. I've spoken about how I feel like those ages are the most emotionally turbulent ones in a persons life. Maybe when I say that, I'm really just talking about myself.

I think they might just be the most idealistic, hopeful years too. At this point in my life, I had released my second album, Fearless. It became the breakthrough moment I'd always dreamt of, one that catapulted my career to new realms of success. It had brought with it a tidal wave of pressures and pitfalls and growing pains. All the while, I was encountering the milestones and checkpoints of normal teenage growth. I had cataclysmic crushes and brushes with heartache. I moved out of my parents' house and set my bags down in a new apartment. I hung photos on my own walls and decorated the space where I would sob and cackle and shatter and dream. Sometimes I felt like a grown up, but a lot of the time I just wanted to time travel back to my childhood bed, where my mom would read stories to me until I fell asleep.

In my darker moments, I was tormented by the doubt that swirled loudly around my ascent and my merits as an artist. I was trying to create a follow up to the most awarded country album in history, while staring directly into the face of intense criticism. I had been widely and publicly slammed for my singing voice and was first encountering the infuriating question that is unfortunately still lobbed at me to this day: does she really write her songs? Spoiler alert: I really, really do.

In the years since, I've developed a thicker skin about public criticism and the cynicism with which some people approach the music I make. At that time, it leveled me. I had these voices in my head telling me that I had the perfect chance and I blew it. I hadn’t been good enough. I had given it all I had and been found wanting.

I wanted to get better, to challenge myself, and to build on my skills as a writer, an artist, and a performer. I didn't want to just be handed respect and acceptance in my field. I wanted to earn it. To try and confront these demons, I underwent extensive vocal training and made a decision that would completely define this album: I decided I would write it entirely on my own. I figured, they couldn't give all the credit to my cowriters if there weren't any. But that posed a new challenge: It really had to be good. If it wasn't, I would be proving my critics right.

I had no idea how much this pain would shape me. That this was the beginning of my series of creative choices made by reacting to setbacks with defiance. That my stubbornness in the face of doubters and dissenters would become my coping mechanism through my entire career from that point forward. This exact pattern of enacting my own form of rebellion when I feel broken is exactly why you're reading these very words, and I'm re-releasing this album now.

I went through my first worldwide scandal (the mic grab seen around the world). I experienced the weirdness of trying to get to know a boy while a swarm of paparazzi surrounds the car. Media contacting my publicist for an official statement on why two teenagers broke up. These are weird experiences to have at any age, but even more surreal when you're 19.

I had the nagging sense that in the most intense moments of my life, I had frozen. I had said nothing publicly. I still don't know if it was out of instinct, not wanting to seem impolite, or just overwhelming fear. But I made sure to say it all in these songs. I decided to call the album Speak Now. It was a play on the speak now or forever hold your peace' moment in weddings, but for me it symbolized a chance to respond to the chatter and commentary around my own life.

Some of these emotional revelations were surprising to people. Some expected anger and instead got compassion and empathy with 'Innocent'. Some expected a kiss-off breakup song but instead got a hand-on-heart apology, 'Back to December. It was an album that was the most precious to me because of its vast extremes. It was unfiltered and potent. In my mind, the saddest song I've ever written is 'Last Kiss'. My most scathing is 'Dear John' and my most wistfully romantic is 'Enchanted'.

I'll be forever proud of setting a goal and seeing it through. I'lI always feel shivers all over when I remember singing 'Long Live' to close the show every night on tour. The outstretched hands of those bright and beautiful faces of the fans. Their support was like an open palm that reached out and helped me up off the ground when others were, frankly, mean.

These days I make my choices for those people, the ones who thought I had been good enough all along. I try to speak my mind when I feel strongly, in the moment I feel it. I'm still idealistic and earnest about the music I make, but I'm less crushed when people mock me for it. I know now that one of the bravest things a person can do is create something with unblinking sincerity, to put it all on the line. I still sometimes wish I was a little kid again in a tiny bed, before I ever grew up.

I always looked at this album as my album, and the lump in my throat expands to a quivering voice as I say this. Thanks to you, dear reader, it finally will be.

I consider this music to be, along with your faith in me, the best thing that's ever been mine.

Yours,

Taylor

#taylor swift #speak now (taylor’s version)#speak now tv #sntv prologue #speak now taylor’s version #sntv

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bokettochild · 5 months ago

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Just saw the update!

So, first thoughts!

Gremlin Legend and Sky is something I am LIVING for. Sky's little look of approval as he stands between Wars and Legend after that little move is sending me!

(Wild is not impressed)

I also really love that JoJo played with Warriors' cape/scarf being capable of doing that, which is a major risk btw, but I love that we see it's potential now!

Like, Legend's timing is perfect (and I love that this confirms the Legend v. Wars dynamic we all love) especially considering Hyrule was literally talking about the same thing and you'd THINK Captain-War-Hero over here would be more cautious because of it (although the fact this implies Legend doesn't trigger Warriors danger sense is GREAT for the fluff fic writers like me!)

Time and Wars looking like disappointed parents though is brilliant

(Warriors with messy hair is so funny to me, help)

The continued portrayal of Time being too harsh with the boys, all tense after what happened to Twilight, that's great. i'm glad the consequences of past events are following them, it really makes this all feel linear!

I also am ALL HERE for the boys finding their differences! Warriors and Wild both admitting to being new to dungeon crawling and the monsters involved is a great thing we've all been playing with in fics, but making it cannon feels like validation :)

Also, Warriors being defensive of that, and maybe a bit prickly about their judgement, I think it shows a lot of him. he's got his pride,a although he's learned to tame it. He's feeling a bit miffed to realize how different he is, but doesn't want them seeing him as lesser as well (although they never would). I can also hear him using a clipped military sort of tone when speaking here. It's just the way his words are selected and strung together that makes it seem he's being very to the point, direct, and cold in his tone, which really sells the whole difference between a soldier and the "average nobody" that the rest of them were (ironic, since he's trying to act like the difference isn't a big deal but only further accentuates it this way).

Twilight being pleased that Epona is fine and just enjoying a meal made me grin so big though. He's all worried for his girl but she is, quite literally, happy as a horse over there LOL

Also, this bit:

recognition for Sky's right-handedness, my beloved! (JoJo is giving us all the easter eggs!)

The fact that the passage is too small to let them all fight though is a brilliant way of preventing some of our heavy hitters and more skilled heroes from being able to do anything though!

I like how that gives us the chance to see Time one-shot the foe and also gives him the impression that the rest are maybe not skilled enough to do this alone. WE all know they are, but they're a handicap to each other right now, and it's only further cementing in his mind that they're not ready for all this, which will make his overbearing speech and the judgement he casts on them in combat all the more an issue.

I mean, we all know the hero's shade was like that, but JoJo has shown Time acting this way from the start

(Deep Shadows P.2)

(Likelike)

So I guess we're in for more of that now, and most likely someone (probably Legend, as it's usually him, or Wind, who is very aware of judgement from teh rest) is definitely going to have to call him on it soon, maybe in the dungeon. Will that lead to some bonding with Time where he has to admit he cares and worries about them as though they're his own? I hope so!

Anyways, all this to say, we really are seeing how much they struggle to work together, so hopefully this dungoen will teach them all how to do that better, as Time mentioned earlier

(Dawn p.8)

Now, to finish it off!I would like to thank JoJo for giving us so many beautiful shots of Twi this time around. I'll admit it now, he's pretty darn fine <3

That said, I'm loving the Legend content too! i hope we get to see some more starring moments from him going forwards, what with him being the dungeon veteran and all! It's great seeing his childish/playful side these last few updates, but I'm really craving some veteran Legend right now >:)

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu time #linked universe update

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valentine-cafe · 2 months ago

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~Scrolling through the request roster to see who needs to get their brains fucked out some love~

Let's see, some mango pancakes sound good! I've got some thoughts about tying Haitao up and blindfolding him, then absolutely spoiling him without letting him come.

Maybe, if he's really good, his partner will let him suck on their fingers while they fuck him :3c

. ˚◞♡ bttm grim reaper boyfriend x top male reader ꒰ the instigator reaper ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ haitao 9948e / male reader ꒱ you decide it would be a wonderful idea to bound and edge your boyfriend

𖹭. content warnings◞ explicit content . penetrative sex . edging . hand job . 0.4k

𖹭. receipts◞ anon you are an absolute godsend with these requests<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪

“— mhnhgh— plea-ah, hnhghah! ple— pleaseplease-”

oh his sweet begs. the way his cock leaks with pre-cum. the pearly white droplets rolling down your hand and wrist.

“the sensory depravation too much for you hm?” you comment with a croon, hand pumping at his cock just a bit more than last time. there is no mercy from you. let your boyfriend cum? absolutely not. you want to hear all the pathetic noises he makes in his blindfolded state.

feeling all of you so much more — the sensations he receives. the eyes that look down, at the reaper beneath them. they wish to see every little change and shift in his body language and face.

“f-feel so good— g-nngh! death, c-can’t— need to—”

“cum hm? what a shame.”

your comment strikes into his tummy, tears dampening the fabric of the blindfold while his mouth opens and closes at the feel of your slow paced thrusts inside him. a moan ripping out of his lungs as his climax is once more stolen away into the night by your skilled hands.

“filthy little whore. look at how you writhe for me— oh” with a tut and chuckle, you lean closer to him and speak the rest of your words. “so pretty, doing so well. aren’t you taking it so well hm? pretty little slut.”

with a weak grip on you, the man drags his nails down your back, following the action with a pathetic whine and an attempt to buck his hips.

“ah-ah. no bucking pretty.” you whisper roughly into his ear, speeding up to watch him get closer and closer, until you slow once again. this time, silencing his cries by pressing two digits down onto his tongue and fucking his mouth with them.

he doesn’t mind one bit, the feeling pushes him over the edge. to your surprise.

You watch the man splutter, eyebrows raise. while a small choked moan escapes him. that doesn’t stop you from continuing. if he can’t take the edging, he’ll take the overstimulation.

so you begin to fuck into him quicker, with shallow and rough pumps. cock spluttering and painting his insides white. while your other hand comes to thumb the slit of his cock and rub all of his cum around his throbbing, poor dick.

“g-gn h! ah! — plea-please— gege— ge-gege-ge!” he moans, but takes all that you give him oh so greedily.

𖹭. taglist◞ wanna join the taglist? fill out this form

𖹭. remember◞ you make a writer's day every time you like, reblog and/or comment on their piece. if you enjoyed my work, please considering doing so<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

#⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ the specials — haitao 9948e ꒱#top male reader #monster boyfriend #male reader #teratophillia #monster fucker #terato #monster x reader #x reader #reader insert #oc x reader #original character x reader #monster oc #grim reaper x reader #monster smut #smut #haitao 9948e #asterism

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barblaz-arts · 5 months ago

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Hi Barb

I seen your snippet and I have to say I look forward to it since not only you are a great artist but also a talented writer ! I wish something like this happened in the future (cannon).

Charlie jealous of the Carmines because she have Vaggie alone for around four years till the Carmines show up and take Vaggie away from her(not most of the time but still ) I mean she is an only child of powerful and richest being she have her things alone and spoils even when she move out of her parents place and spent her time alone she got Vaggie who also spoils her but not that much spoils compared to her parents since Vaggie have common sense and I headcanon that Vaggie discipline Charlie for years since they are together .

Imagine, you with yours girlfriend for ages you found her secret the she kept from you since the beginning now both of you make up and your bond is stronger than before but now her space is wider and have room for more people not only you and she spends less time with you because she give her time to others that she admire and found. Also she seems happy and more alive.

Charlie is a princess but She is a Hell’s Princess. She may better than people in both Hell and Heaven but she still a demon.

To be fair, I think Carmilla and Vaggie both have a lot of things in common (from my perspective I always open for another opinion I like to read yours since you don’t jump into the conclusion that Lilith is evil like some people here )

1.Both of them are Latina

Maybe came from different countries but still have Spanish(español) as their first language I can imagine if they are speaking in the heat or argument or a discussion they would speak in Spanish and nobody understands what the heck did they just say? also as someone that not having English as my first language talking in my language is help me expressing more than English specially when I let my emotions speak. I believe the same thing would happen to Vaggie and The Carmines. Maybe in the short time , She would open up to them more and quicker than Charlie or the crews.

2. Both of them are the worst liar.

In episode 3, I am certain that most of people in the room know Camilla was the one who killed that Exorcist look at her reaction in the meeting they just don’t know how. And Vaggie said that she herself is the worst’s liar .The only reason she can kept her secret that long because the person she live with is Charlie(Who don’t have a good observing skill and not the best as Zestial at confronting someone to give them answers ). I know Vaggie never lie to Charlie but she also not telling her girlfriend the whole truth which is still wrong , I guess.

3. Both of them are the Keeper and the Protector.

They have someone they love dearly and is their first priority if the threat comes to them ; Carmilla : Odette,Clara > Herself, Vaggie : Charlie > the Crew >…..>Herself(I think Vaggie will probably protect civilians or children and put herself in the bottom of a pyramid because she’s an Angel also a soldier that have common sense to serve and protect people not Country.

4. Both of them are Dancer .

I want more of their screen time in episode seven. Vaggie can follow Camilla after she gets herself together.

5.Respect.

I’m not sure about Latin’s Culture about respect someone that older like Asian . I think Vaggie quite a well mannered person and respectful but it’s something that need to earned form her.

She don’t trust Alastor and his actions since theirs first impression I would say completely disaster. ( She may give him more respect after episode 8 since he fought with them)

About this makes me think if Vaggie meet Zestial when she visits Carmilla she going to like him . Zestial have little screen time but He show us that he’s a gentlemen that respect people boundaries even though he quite a gossip (He’s cute) but if he is someone that the Carmines open up for He maybe the first man that Vaggie feel comfort to be around (about Lucifer,that her father girlfriend and a king of Hell it might be awkward at first but they will get along in different ways)

She called Carmilla ‘Miss Carmine’ I know before She enter to Carmine’s compound she blackmailed her to enter but hey! they get along now.

6. Weapons and Training

I think Vaggie like exercise and enjoy training it’s healthy if you not use it for killing souls once a years. Even she in hell she still training (look at her shape and how she parkour) but she don’t have someone to duel with her that can point her mistake like Camilla (sometimes Clara or Odette )maybe that how they bound .

I can see Vaggie stop by at the Carmines place because she want someone to duel with(there is another word but I forgot) with people who can improve herself to be better.

Camilla is a business woman so when she busy she might send hers daughters to send the angel off but instead three of them bond and ‘play’ together (play: weapons test , duel , Vaggie being a 1st Angel Subject and test what Angel can do etc.)

In conclusion, we need Vaggie and The Carmines bonding time and Charlie being jealous in the background.

Thank you, Sorry for rambling.

It will be more,I promise.

P.S. here’s the sketch that describes my view about this (Also I have writing a some comic but I’m quite busy If you want more context or more sketches feel free to ask because I would love to share 😂)

The bit about Carmilla and Vaggie both being terrible liars sure is interesting. I never considered that!

Their relationship seems to have always been planned to be quite important, if this previous concept for a Ball Episode is anything to go by("Maxine" looks a lot like a prototype version of Carmilla)

I'd love it if they could bond more in the next seasons.

I love the idea of Charlie getting jealous of Carmilla too but for like the wrong reasons. Just to reference the fact that Vaggie and Carmilla's voice actors previously played lovers for In The Heights. It would be so funny.

And omg those sketches are adorable! What a cute art style!

#asks #hazbin hotel

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ikementally-deficient · 2 months ago

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Advice On Writing

I have a couple of writing friends who keep asking me for advice (which is extremely flattering and I love to infodump, please don't stop), but I thought getting my thoughts down on the metaphorical paper and putting them out into the world might be helpful for others as well.

I mostly had fanfiction in mind when I wrote this, but honestly I think the vast majority of it will be applicable to any kind of creative writing.

I would love to get feedback or have conversations about this, so if you want to squawk at or with me, please don't hesitate!

The Bare Minimum

Write

Write as often and as much as you can. If you manage to do nothing else on this list, just writing consistently and continuously will eventually improve your skills, even if it takes a long time.

The Basics

2. Read

Find things you enjoy, and read them. Read as much as you have time for. Things that speak to you and make you feel things (words, turns of phrase, tropes) will all work their way into your subconscious and feed your own writing.

3. Read Critically

Re-read the things you enjoy, and consciously think about why you enjoy them. Why did this scene manage to express such a clear sense of desolation? What about this interaction between characters made me relate to them so much? How did this story give me such a sense of satisfaction and coming full circle? Highlight the phrases you really love. Look for and circle the small details that foreshadow later developments. Identify the things you don’t like as well (nothing is perfect). How would you have done this differently? Do you hate the purple prose, or is it killing you that these scenes aren’t more detailed? Look up the words you don’t understand - maybe the author chose their words poorly, or maybe you’re one of the lucky ten thousand who gets to learn a new vocabulary word today.

The Cringe Parts

4. Ask for constructive criticism

This part is really hard, but vital. While you will inevitably find some of the weaknesses of your own writing, you won’t find all of them. An outside perspective is invaluable. If you’re frightened of constructive criticism, start small. Ask one person to look at SPAG (spelling, punctuation, and grammar). Pick one paragraph or scene to show someone and ask them how it flows. Have someone review your outline for plotholes instead of giving them prose. Brace yourself for things you don’t want to hear. Sit with any and all criticism for a few days before reacting. It’s okay to decide that someone just didn’t get what you were going for, but make sure that’s actually true instead of just a knee-jerk reaction to hurt feelings or a bruised ego. Listen to what your reviewer or beta is actually saying - ‘this part confuses me’ doesn’t mean your writing is bad, it means that your head holds the entire picture and you just didn’t put enough of that down on paper so your reader can see it too.

5. Re-read your own work

Every once in a while, go back and see how what you wrote six months ago or last year holds up. You’ve been writing for a while, you’re a stronger writer, so give yourself the perspective of seeing how far you’ve come. And see if there are any weak areas that are still giving you trouble; you can focus more on those in your next piece of writing.

6. Edit for other people

Editing is a skill. No one falls out of the sky able to give useful and actionable feedback. The act of reading and criticising something you have a little cognitive distance from is far easier than criticising your own work, but it’s still a muscle you need to build. Start with basic proof reading (SPAG). Ask questions: “Why did you choose this word, it seems obscure?” Explain your feedback: “I can’t tell who’s speaking here, I think the dialogue went back and forth one too many times without a tag.” Instead of “I don’t like this,” explain why: “This description feels like something I’ve seen too many times already and feel cliché, but I bet you can change it up.” Learning to give that feedback in a kind and helpful way is something you can bring back to your own writing. Remember that if someone asks you to beta read or edit their work, they too are trying to get better. Don’t just blow sunshine up their ass, give them the respect of being honest about elements that aren’t working. Just don’t be an asshole about it.

Some resources on being a good beta reader - these also are handy guides for writers on how to communicate their needs effectively to a beta reader:

How to Be a Great Beta Reader and Give Helpful Feedback (dianaurban.com)

What makes a good beta reader? (smallbluedog.com)

Tips on how to beta read, from a beta reader : FanFiction (reddit.com)

Advanced Class

7. Try new things

Try a different format. If you mostly write long, multi-chapter works, aim for a short story. Write some poetry. Change up your genre. Consciously try to imitate someone else’s style. Stretch out of your comfort zone. Feel like you write too much descriptive detail? Force yourself to write nothing but dialogue, like Isaac Asimov. Feel like your characters are always floating in empty space? Indulge in some Robert Jordan, down to every detail of what the characters are wearing. This is going to be difficult, and the results might not be something you want to share publicly, but it’s still worth the effort.

8. Read about writing

There are university courses on this stuff. Check your local library for a copy of the Little, Brown Handbook - it’s aimed at academic writing, but it’s a great resource on grammar and syntax and planning and revising your work. Look for fun ones like The Transitive Vampire and The Well-Tempered Sentence, or Eats, Shoots & Leaves. Centre for Fiction has a great list of books on creative writing by writers, and industry professionals (if publishing for profit is a goal of yours).

Back to the Beginning

9. Keep writing

You might not be the next Stephen King, or Jude Devereaux, or Isaac Asimov. Cool, me neither. You don’t have to be. As long as writing is still giving you joy, keep doing it.

#writing about writing #fanfiction #writing #writing advice

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teyamsgrl · 1 year ago

Note

Hi Jade! Do you think you'd be up to do Neteyam fic where he and the reader are sweet on each other but because she's younger than him and friends with Lo'ak he doesn't wanna go that route with her so he distances himself from her and he starts vetting available girls in the clan as a distraction and this makes the reader decide to put her needs first and she starts thinking about future mates since Neteyam isn’t seemingly worried about her. But then a rumor starts that either Lo'ak and reader are to be mates or someone else is courting her and this pushes Neteyam to stake his claim and make her his.

❗️MDNI ❗️

hi!!!! oh my goddddd this idea is amazing, everyone say THANK YOU ANON 🗣️ jealous and in love neteyam woowowowowo i'm dead already - also this gif is so fucking crisp and clear holy fuck he is so fine respectfully

p.s: sorry it took me forever to get this completed! had some writer's block along with uni starting again 🥲

just a distraction ✧ neteyam

°˖➴ warnings: fem omatikaya reader, agedup!neteyam, dom!neteyam, jealous!teyam, younger!reader, sub!reader, friends to lovers, slow burn??, dirty talk, oral f & m receiving, missionary 😮‍💨 - paskalin: honey

despite being lo'ak's age and his best friend, you and neteyam got along extremely well. this 'getting along' also included a lot of unsaid feelings and the romantic tension between you both was unbelievably visible yet neither of you ever said a word. your actions showed enough though; the extra long hugs, the touches as you pass each other, the undivided attention as you teach each other new skills, the looks you share throughout the day. you were so obviously in love with neteyam and you figured he maybe felt the same; that is until he started to avoid you a week ago. it hurt. it hurt so bad.

what made it even worse was that he was going around the village and chatting up all the girls, showing off and being touchy. it made your blood boil as you watched him because that should be you. as you watch him speak to kai'ra, a very skilled hunter, you start to snap out of it. clearly neteyam doesn't want you so why are you sitting here pining over him? what's the fucking point? sure, it sucked to accept that you would never be with neteyam like you had anticipated for a long time but there was no point in sulking about it. there were many other desirable men in the clan and you figured that you'd find the right one eventually.

"i heard that y/n is being courted, is that true, lo'ak?" neytiri questions as the sully family sits together in their hut eating an evening meal. neteyam almost chokes on the food in his mouth, eyes wide and jealousy rising in his chest. "yeah, by ät’uk and i think someone else too" lo'ak responds to his mother nonchalantly before continuing to eat. there are other men attempting to court y/n? what had he done? neteyam couldn't deny his feelings for you, they were almost overwhelming. it was hard for him to put distance between you both, but he felt that it was right due to the fact that you are younger and best friends with his little brother. this was clearly a mistake. the pit in his stomach was haunting, just knowing there were other men chasing after you had him anxious and on top of that, angry. neteyam set his bowl down and stood up abruptly, telling his family that he just needed some air and to walk by himself. he rushed out of the hut, turning left to head to where he knew you'd be; tree of voices.

you went to the tree of voices every night before eclipse to visit your late father, the visits always bringing you peace. just as you detach your queue from the tree, you hear someone approaching. you rarely saw others approach the tree of voices at this time of night, so you got a bit startled naturally. "it's just me", you hear that familiar voice you love so much. your heart swelled as he came into the light expelled by the tree, you had missed him despite his actions. "neteyam.." you say, nervously shifting to stand up and face him. "is ät’uk courting you?" he asks matter of factly, a glow of jealousy in his amber eyes. "uh... he has been trying, yes, so has tar'ete" you answer him, observing the way his nose scrunches at your words. "well, that's not gonna happen" he takes a step closer to you, now chest to chest. "and you get to decide that for me? that's funny, especially since you've been avoiding me" your tone is harsh, but it was true, what right did he have to state his opinion when he left you in the dust?

"look- i just thought that since you're younger and lo'ak's best friend it would be better to not initiate something with you, but" his hands move to grab your hips, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "it was a mistake. i talked to all these other girls and i felt nothing, then i heard you were being courted and i just- you're mine and i won't let anyone else have you" he breathes out, pressing his forehead to yours and allowing his lips to ghost over yours. "i've always been yours, neteyam. it killed me to watch you with all those other girls.." you whisper softly, your own hands gripping his shoulders as though he could slip away any second. "i know, it was just a distraction. i'm sorry, paskalin.." the pet name effortlessly falls from his lips, said lips slowly inching closer to yours. you nod slightly, breath tickling his lips. before you can act first he presses his lips to yours, moving in sync with yours as though you had done this a million times before.

you hum into the kiss, hands running to weave into his braids as his tongue slips into your mouth, gliding along your own tongue. his hands on your hips pull them against his, bulge pressing against you and bringing more wetness between your legs. "neteyam" you whine out softly, grinding into his bulge and pulling out a moan from him. "y/n..." he sighs as he watches you sink to your knees, hands untying his loincloth from his tail that is swishing around in excitement. your eyes widen slightly as his cock bounces out of the confines of his loincloth, hard and leaking already. you lick the tip softly, his head falling back from the sensation. "wanna be yours..." you murmur, kissing along his shaft. "you are, i promise" he moans out as your mouth engulfs his tip, sucking and gradually taking in his entire length.

you start bobbing your head up and down, gagging slightly as his tip hits the back of your throat. "that's it, fuck..." neteyam's hands hold your head as he thrusts gently into your mouth, your mouth his to use. he moans as he continues, the whining and choking sounds turning him on even further. he pulls you off of him and you gasp for air, hand wrapping around his length to stroke him. "no- it's your turn, paskalin" he holds out his hands for you and you grab them, standing up and facing him once again. he is now the one to drop to his knees, hands swiftly removing your loincloth in seconds. he grabs your left leg, hoisting it over his shoulder so your glistening hole is on display. his arms keep you steady on one leg while he leans in, tip of his tongue gently flicking over your clit. you shudder at the touch and whine out his name softly, bringing a smirk to his lips. he leans in again and brings your clit into his mouth, suckling on it like there's no tomorrow.

neteyam moves downwards, tongue plunging into your hole and lapping at your wetness while he leaves marks on your thighs from how tight his grip is. "teyam-" you whine, hands holding his head not only for stability but out of pure pleasure. he hums against you, vibrations shooting through your body as his mouth continues it's assault on you. his one hand moves back to grab the plush of your ass, lightly spanking as he shoves his face further into you. "feels good" you squeak out, hips bucking into his mouth frantically. "yeah? wanna cum on my cock babygirl?" he mumbles between licks to your clit. "please yes" you gasp and lock eyes with him, allowing him to lie you flat on your back.

neteyam crawls over top of you, one hand beside your head as the other lines his cock up with your entrance. the pressure of his tip at your hole has you mewling already, hands reaching for his biceps as he begins to push in. the stretch is intense yet the most pleasurable thing you had ever felt, your back arching in an instant. his breath is shaky as he bottoms out, pulling away slightly to ram right back into you. he leans to press his forehead on yours as he settles on a rhythm, breath grazing your lips as your rock back and forth together. "shit-" he groans as your walls squeeze him on each thrust, his fingers pressing into the dirt below you. "oh eywa..." you whine, nails dragging down neteyam's toned back.

"so good.... you're mine, aren't you?" he hums, hips jerking continuously and causing squelching sounds to fill your ears. "yours, all yours" you moan, nails digging into his back further as your orgasm begins it's fast approach. "that's right- fuck, i'm close.. where do you-" "inside, please" you beg, legs tugging him in by the waist as you begin to quiver. "okay- oh babyyy.." he groans as he pumps you full, your own orgasm releasing simultaneously. both of your breathing is heavy as you come down, bodies pressed together.

"you're amazing" he whispers, hand stroking your cheek as he lies beside you now. "so are you" you whisper back, placing your much smaller hand on top of his, staring into his amber eyes. "be my mate?" he asks, other hand resting on your stomach. "yes, of course yes" you smile, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him close. he chuckles and wraps his arms around you as well, his strong arms keeping you as close as possible. "all we need is tsaheylu" he mumbles, smirk plastered on his face. "are you saying you want a round two?" you giggle, kissing along his jaw. "maybe..."

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year ago

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the water heater

lilac, chapter three

a/n: ...don't ask me how late it got when i wrote this.... i was on a roll that day and time just turned into a weird soup.

summary: “Dad, please, for the love of god, just–,” you spun around, though the unexpected figure that stepped into the low light caused your fury to fade away in an instant, “oh, uh, you’re not–, uhm, h-hi.”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, pete castiglione era, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, renovating an inn, totally inaccurate description of tinkering with a water heater just for the sake of making them fall in love

word count: 1137

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“Well, maybe if you just–”

“Dad! Just–…” you swallowed the rest of the heated statement that nearly escaped your lips, mentally counting to three before glaring back at the man who was breathing down your neck, “do you remember when I was 12 and you had the clever idea of attempting to install that new sink in room 5?”

Already knowing where this story was gonna go, Harvey quietly replied, “…yeah…”

“And just who, pray tell, fixed it after you made the pipes uncontrollably spurt out water, consequently flooding the entire room?”

“…you did…”

“That’s right,” you sucked on another tense breath before continuing, “so, unless you’ve somehow improved that skill since then, which, I’m sorry dad, but I highly doubt that you have, please, just let me handle it alone.”

“…alright, fine,” he ultimately backed off, nearing the basement stairs, “but I’ll be right up by the front desk if you need me.”

“I won’t,” you called over your shoulder as you redirected your attention to the hopeless pipes, “but thanks.”

Letting the illuminated spot from the small flashlight clutched in your palm guide your vision, you checked each and every rusty tube.

After too many pokes and prods, you finally found the source of the problem. Stepping over towards the main pipeline you bend down and reached through tickling cobwebs to turn the paint-chipped knob clockwise, shutting all of the water off.

Before your spine managed to straighten back out, you felt your blood begin to boil as you heard the sound of heavy footsteps once again ascending the crooked staircase.

“Dad, please, for the love of god, just–,” you spun around, though the unexpected figure that stepped into the low light caused your fury to fade away in an instant, “oh, uh, you’re not–, uhm, h-hi.”

“Hey,” Pete’s deep voice echoed throughout the dim space, sounding the way that hot chocolate felt.

“Uh, not that I’m not thrilled to see you here, in my basement of all places, but, um, what are you–, what can I help you with?”

“Nothing ma'am,” he took a step closer, “it’s what I can help you with.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, Harvey sent me down here to take a look at something.”

“Oh, did he now…” that was the last you needed in order to lose your patience.

“Yeah,” Pete’s eyes tracked your form as you riffled through the open metal toolbox and yanked out a wrench.

“Well,” you huffed as you began to loosen the various hexagon-shaped fittings snug on the pipes spiderwebbing out from the bulky water heater apparatus, the labour of the task presenting itself in your vexed voice, “you can tell my dad that I’m still just fine and don’t need any help!” the tool on your palm then inadvertently slammed against one of the pipes, the clanging and therapeutic blow snapping you enough out of your ire to take a step back. Squeezing your eyes shut a moment, you let out a deep sigh before parting your lips once more to speak, “I’m sorry, it was very kind of you to offer your help, but I’m okay.”

Fully expecting him to just take off, his stationary stance caught you off guard, “so, the water heater’s acting up?”

“It’s fucking ancient, that’s what it is,” you replied as you returned to twist the remainder of the fittings, “should have updated it long ago, but no, no, that never happened,” you continued to grumble mostly to yourself at this point, “of course it’s much more fun to let me handle it down the line when the hot water outlet is completely rusted over and clogged up to the point of no return, you know, that’s just so much more fun…” your words then faded away as you attempted to turn a knob that in no way wanted to corporate.

Quietly cursing underneath your breath, you tried to put all your weight into it as you strained to turn the stuck fitting.

But just then, from out of nowhere, you felt the wrench begin to turn, but that victory wasn’t the only thing you suddenly felt. Engulfing your own, the comparatively massive hand of Pete enveloped yours as if it wasn’t even there to begin with, helping you turn it as though the metal was made out of butter.

Blinking up at him after it finally twisted completely, his intimidating stature seemed even more towering up close.

“Uh,” you slipped your hand out from under his calloused palm, “thank you…”

“No, problem,” you promptly whirled around to avoid his piercing gaze, busying yourself by riffling through the toolbox without any purpose whatsoever, “so your old man’s not helping you out in renovating this place?”

“Well, he’s brilliant at a lot of things, but those skills in particular have never really been in his bailiwick–, wait…” you kept your back turned to him as you asked, “how do you know that I’m renovating?”

“People in this town like to talk, a lot,” he breathed out the essence of a laugh, “and that includes your father.”

“Ah, okay…”

Spinning around once again, you kept your eyes steadfast on the dusty pipes, though after what only felt like a second, Pete unexpectedly proposed, “hey, what do you say I lend you a hand?”

“What?”

“Well,” hands clasped together in front of him, the digits on one of them dug into the palm of the other as he spoke, “I’m no stranger to fixing things, so it might help make it fly by a bit faster than if you try and get through it all on your own.”

Unable to detect if this was just some strange joke or not, you verified, “I’m sorry, but are you legitimately offering me your help in renovating this place right now?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously?” you bellowed a little louder than you’d intended, earning just a small nod from him in confirmation, “I–…” you blinked back at him, downright dumbfounded, “that’s incredibly generous of you, but I can’t really afford to hire you right now…”

“Oh, I’m not asking you to hire me, just let me help out a bit.”

“Pete, I can’t let you do that, not without any form of compensation.”

“Well, then just pay me in free coffee till it’s done,” he attempted to joke, though it didn’t manage to crack a smile on your lips.

“This is not funny, Pete.”

“No, it’s not,” he continued, still in a startlingly light-hearted tone, “you clearly don’t know yet just much coffee I tend to drink on average every day,” seeing you not budge an inch, he then dropped the attempt with a gentle nod, “fine, how about we just take a look at a price at a later date? Decide on it later when it’s all done, and you start making a profit again?”

#lea’s writing #lilac series #lumberjack!frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader #frank castle fluff #frank castle series #lumberjack au

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whiskeynwriting · 1 year ago

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Recovery

Simon “Ghost” Riley x OFC “Bones”

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Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Trauma, physical therapy, some reader descriptions (strong/muscles), dirty talk, size kink, grinding/dry humping, mentions of male masturbation, spanking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of smoking, tattoos.

◆

A/N: Hope y’all aren’t getting sick of Ghost x Bones because they’re not leaving anytime soon lol. Also this gif has my HEART, baby has some makeup in his eye lol

ALSO also, thank you to @thesleepingmusicneek for honestly just being an amazing fucking friend but for helping me SO much with my writing 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

◆

Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

◆

Nothing but scribbles stumble across the page, now disfigured with angry wrinkles. And the writer, no more frustrated than he is stubborn, sitting with the pencil’s tip just at the paper’s edge. What’s worse than watching him struggle, is knowing there’s little to nothing you can do about it. This journey is up to him; his progress, his growth, his recovery, it’s all in his hands.

“This is bullocks.” Finally, he tosses the pencil down with an aggressive huff. “Never even was a lefty.”

“That’s not the point.”

Looking away with a frown, he mumbles, “I know.”

Simon’s physical therapist tries his best, he really does, but his patient is stubborn, and these injuries are unforgiving. Having you here is the main thing that keeps Simon going, out of both pride and general encouragement. In the therapist’s eyes, your open sass doesn’t help. But hey, it’s how the two of you bond.

“Try it this way, Ghost.” He then offers, speaking into the growing silence.

“I’ve already tried it that way. Fuckin’ hurts!” His left hand wasn’t ever his strongest or most favored out of the two, but practicing his writing skills is a step in the right direction in regard to his healing.

Sometimes, this was embarrassing for him, having you watch him struggle. But even through the bad days, and the really bad days, he insisted that you come. Your support meant more to him than anything, and you were glad to tag along. He found great offense in the mere offer of you leaving, which was suggested many times by his therapist. They claimed he’d focus better without you there. A fucking distraction.

“She’s my doctor,” He’d state firmly, eyes burning holes into his PT. “Not you.”

And this was true. Price had allowed you to be Simon’s main physician, figuring there really wasn’t anyone better. You had both personal and professional reason to be here. So, Simon’s physical therapist can suck it.

“Perhaps if we had some privacy, maybe -”

“This again?!” Ghost shouts, and you try your best to hide your chuckle. He should’ve known better than to bring this up now, when Simon is most frustrated. “Bloody fuckin’ hell, how many times do I have to tell you?!”

“Hey,” Laying a hand on his forearm, you request gently, “Take a breath.”

Regardless of his deep inhale, Simon’s dark eyes continue to glare at the physician. Though, as irritated as he may seem now, Ghost truly has come a long way. He’s gotten a lot of feeling back in his feet and legs, and can even wiggle his toes and feel pain. On this area of his body, the therapist has moved onto moving his entire foot.

“Why don’t we try the lower extremities?”

“‘S difficult, too.” Glancing away, Simon focuses on the view past the windowpane. It’s a sunny day, soon to rain but nice enough now.

The soft rub of your thumb on his forearm is what pulls him back, nodding with a sigh. “Alright, fine.”

Redirecting his focus to his feet, Simon concentrates, determined to do… something. He’s been instructed to wiggle his toes, which he does successfully. And the gentle squeeze you give him offers the slightest bit of encouragement.

“Alright, now let’s try your ankle. Start with the right one.”

“Rotate it fully?” Scoffing, he raises a brow.

His therapist shrugs. “Any movement at all.”

Narrowing his eyes, Simon zones in on his right foot, doing anything he can to make it move. A twitch, a wiggle, anything. But by his quick yet shallow breaths, his small grunts, you can tell he’s becoming agitated again.

“Be patient with your body.”

“My body can do so much more than this.” He spits out in return.

“Yeah?” You return, not one to take his sass. “Then show me.”

There was nothing more motivating than your snarky remarks, always ready to challenge the man you love. And wouldn't you know it, a small shudder runs through his ankle. The way Simon’s head immediately snaps up toward you makes you grin, his eyes wide with little crinkles on the side, evidence of his eager smile. It's like he himself was surprised by it, and to say you’re proud of him would be an understatement.

“Way to go, big boy.” With the widest grin, you congratulate him. “You’re making progress.”

And even though he doesn’t respond, he keeps his smile. He’s proud of himself, too.

Subtle glances, small brushes or touches, cheeky grins and flirtatious laughs, that’s what accounts for your interactions. And while your exchanges have been sweet, they’ve also been dulled, in a way. The fire doesn’t seem to be there anymore. Your love still grows, is still everlasting, but the desire you had for one another, it’s faded.

Or at least, it seems that way.

The first few months of Simon’s recovery were the most difficult. Getting him stable was more important than anything, and you were by his side through it all. You weren’t thinking sexually, those thoughts weren’t anywhere near your headspace, not when you were so worried. But the more Simon healed, the more touchy he should be, right? It makes sense in your head. Going so long without so much as kissing or even hugging you, you’d assumed he’d want to put his hands on you as soon as he got the chance.

The injuries on Ghost’s face and head have healed, externally, at least. So, he’s been lifting his mask more around you, but only to the tip of his nose. And you wonder if he regrets showing himself to you. But even with that thought lingering heavily in your head, you also wonder, why hasn’t he kissed me yet? Why hasn’t he initiated anything? A small hug? A peck on the lips? Anything? Honestly, it feels like you’re losing him all over again.

Simon has shown his love for you through his actions and words. The two of you don’t often say it, but it comes up every now and then. His physical intentions, though, those were much more prominent. They came in the form of voicing his requests for you to stay, whether it be at his therapy sessions or just throughout the day. He wasn’t shy about that. Occasionally, he’d compliment you, call you smart and sweet, call you his doctor, his girl. But nothing more, nothing even remotely sexual. And it’s strange because Simon used to be so sexual. Even when he couldn't do much with you, couldn't he have said something to express his physical interest?

On the other end, Ghost’s worrying about this topic just as much as you. While you’ve been waiting for him to make a move, he’s been waiting on you. His body has always been scarred, mutilated with cuts that ran deep and marred with burns over his flesh. But he wasn’t insecure about any of that, not until these recent injuries. He knows he looks different, especially on his left arm and legs, even his face a little bit. Simon hasn’t felt truly insecure in decades, but that rotten feeling has now been clawing at the insides of his chest, breaking free and wreaking havoc on his mind.

Simon wanted to give you space, give you the option of turning away. He wouldn’t blame you, this wasn’t exactly part of the package. Besides, you can’t help it if you’re not attracted to him anymore because of these injuries. He’d understand it. It’d crush his entire being, but he’d understand.

And so, he waits, wondering if the day will come where you’ll make a move, where you’ll show him that you’re still attracted to him. But he refuses to bring it up to you, he doesn’t want to push.

“‘M sorry,” Simon grumbles quietly, somberly.

“You don’t have to be.” His regret is obvious, and you appreciate the gesture of him apologizing. But you’re used to his attitude during those sessions, and you honestly don’t blame him one bit. You can’t imagine how frustrating this situation would be if it were you personally.

Moving about the room, you clean up your station, sorting notes into files and wiping down the desk. And Simon watches you with thoughtful eyes, hoping for a chance to reconnect. You’re the most precious and special thing he’s ever had the pleasure of possessing. But not possess in a way of dominance, possess in a way like his own soul possesses his body. Natural, connected, at peace.

“How was your day?” He asks, voice low and muddled by the rain tapping against the windowpane.

Without turning, you respond with, “Normal. Nothing too crazy.”

“What was your favorite part?” Simon pries gently, not wanting the conversation to end.

Now, you do turn. Leaning back against the edge of your desk, you grin. “Spending it with you.”

And it’s true. Regardless of the worries slowly but surely consuming you, it was nice to be with him.

Swallowing, his pulse becomes thunderous in his ears, heart beating against his chest. He wants you, wants to feel you next to him. So, with great hesitancy, he requests, “C’mere.”

Excitement shoots through your limbs as you all too quickly prance over to him, ecstatic that he’s even asked. And your eagerness makes him smirk beneath the mask. Sitting yourself down on one of those round, swiveling chairs, you rest beside his left arm. Out of curiosity, you look down, eyeing his decorated forearm. His tattoos no longer look the same, some of them having changed with the healing of his stitches.

“Bunch of bullshit.” Ghost murmurs, glancing down, too. “Paid good money for those.”

Laughing, you give your head a single shake. “They still look hot as hell.”

Eyes widening, he speaks before he can stop himself. “Really?”

With you being so close to him again, and now complimenting him, he feels like he’s soaring.

“Fuck yeah.” You respond, as if it were obvious. To you, it is.

Impulsively, you lay a hand over his forearm, fingers brushing the black and white ink. And for a split second, it feels electric on his skin. But you’re quick to flinch away, wide eyes staring up at him. “I’m so sorry, did that hurt?”

But all he does is shrug. “Not at all. Stitches are healed, love.”

Love. You swoon.

“So, I can touch you?” It obviously isn’t meant to come off dirty, but Ghost’s brain registers it as that, anyway.

“Of course you can.” He nearly blurts out, his tone hopeful and welcoming. And immediately, you’re wrapping both hands around his sleeve. The small hum he exudes prompts you to glance up, grinning at the sight. Ghost has closed his eyes, chest releasing a relaxing breath.

“Feels nice.”

“Just this?” Humored doubt laces your tone.

“Feels like ages since you’ve touched me.”

His words twist the thoughts collecting in your head into something new. Has he… he’s wanted me to touch him?

“I know…” The way you say it expresses your sadness, your regret. “Just need you to heal, ya know?”

Because of what he’s now said, you feel the need to explain yourself, explain why you haven’t fulfilled his expectations. Throughout this entire healing process, you focused mostly on his physical health. You never once thought to tend to his emotional wellbeing. It’s a failure, on your end.

“Does it,” Inhaling a motivating breath, he finishes with, “Does it bother you?”

“What?”

Lifting his arm slightly, he gestures to himself. “These stitches, the injuries.”

Twisting your face in confusion, you lean back a bit. “Um… no? Why would they?”

“Just… missed your touch, is all.” He’s mumbling, quiet and very obviously insecure. “Missed you.”

“Baby… I’m so sorry.” All at once, regret hits you like a truck. He’s been suffering, and you’ve done nothing. “I’m sorry I haven’t done more for you.”

“You’ve done everything you needed to.”

“No, I haven’t. How could I let you feel this way?”

An abrupt knock on the door dissipates your conversation into seemingly nothing. Instantly, you pull your hands away from him, turning in your chair to greet whoever’s about to approach. And to your delight, it’s Johnny.

“Hey Lt.” He grins, walking in and giving you a nod. “Lovely Bones.”

There’s that flirtatious nature again. As always, Ghost knew it meant nothing, not really. But now that he feels like you’re falling through his fingers, he wants to tighten his grasp now more than ever, wants to pull you back into his chest and never let you go, whisper all the sweet things he’s been dying to tell you. Especially when another man compliments you.

“How’ve ya been?” Striding forward, Johnny takes a seat opposite of Ghost’s bed. Spreading his legs and leaning in on his knees, he flashes that cheeky smile, giving Simon his full attention.

“I’ve been fine, Johnny. Nothing new.” Simon answers simply, almost in a kind of brain fog. Switching conversations so quickly is difficult for him, still trying to regain his focus from the incident.

“See your scars are healin’ up nicely.” Pointing to his forearm, he nods. “That’s good to see.”

“Yeah, messed up my bloody ink, though.”

“Ah,” Soap waves a hand, “Looks better that way.”

The team visited Simon fairly frequently. And since you’re by his side for ninety-five percent of the day, you get to see the guys every time they come by. Oftentimes, they’d bring him little treats, a snack from the cafeteria or his favorite energy drink. And while Ghost knew they had the best intentions, their pity disgusted him. Sometimes he wished they would just leave him alone. Especially now, considering the two of you were in the middle of a rather important discussion.

“Oh!” Johnny then says, startling you. Reaching into his back pocket, he retrieves a small package. Tossing it Simon’s way, Soap says, “Know you like these.”

Catching it easily, Simon reads the wrapping. A Snickers, he can’t remember the last time he had one of these. And that was mainly due to his brain injury.

“Thanks, Johnny.”

“I know all this can’t be easy, Si. I’m for you, ya know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Ghost sighs, staring down at the candy bar. Johnny rarely called him Si, and it tugs at his heartstrings.

Soap can feel something is off in the room, the energy is just weird. He’s been wanting to ask about your relationship, but hasn’t had the balls to. He doesn’t want to make either of you uncomfortable and hasn’t had the chance to be alone with Simon or you.

“Well, I’ll let you lovebirds be.” Smiling cheekily, he stands. “I’ll visit again soon, yeah, Lt.?”

“‘Course, Johnny.”

Before Johnny leaves, he offers you a hug, strong arms embracing you fully. And you rest against him, leaning into his sturdy frame. He’s been a great part of your support system since all of this happened; Simon’s injuries have only brought you and Johnny closer together.

“It’ll be alright, yeah, sweetheart?” He sighs quietly against your head. Nodding, you take in a steadying breath.

“Yeah, it’ll be alright.”

Another knock, another groan from your end. “Come in.”

Opening the door is the other half of the medical team assigned to Ghost, making their way in so they can clean. Their tasks were to change the sheets, wash Simon and his clothes, wipe down surfaces and mop the floor, the list goes on. And while you were more than happy to do these things, Simon wouldn't allow it. Ghost’s recovery prompted new boundaries to arise in your relationship, lines that he was firm on setting. The first regarding this exact circumstance; you already cared for him medically and he refused for you to do anymore, he didn’t want you to be his full time caregiver. He would never want to burden you with that, and he knows it would cause nothing but strife in your relationship. Besides, the mere thought of you changing his bedpan and regularly washing his sheets was humiliating. So, whenever it was time for those types of tasks, you left, fulfilling other duties.

But why did they have to come now?

“I’ll, um…” Turning back to Simon, you see he’s already looking toward you with a pleading gaze. Stay.

All you want to do is stay.

But at the same time, Simon doesn’t want you to see him this way.

“I’ll… see you later, Si.”

Swallowing, Simon’s rough voice then appears. “Babe,”

Immediately, your eyes widen, if only ever so slightly. For him to call you that in the presence of others speaks volumes. Sure, Price had you sign those HR papers about workplace relationships, but you hadn’t exactly made it known to others after that. The two of you favored your privacy. But right now, that simple word is speaking louder than anything else he could’ve said.

“C’mere for a sec.” Grunting, he does his best to reach out to you, using his left arm. And as soon as he does it, Johnny is letting you go, wanting you to meet Simon’s gentle plea.

Leaving the sergeant’s arms, you do just that, stepping over to Simon’s bedside. Placing both of your hands in his left, you grin, looking into those deep, warm eyes of his.

“You’ll come back, yeah?” Ghost asks quietly, your team beginning to work around him.

“Of course, I will.”

“Eh, won’t be long.” Johnny chimes in, “She can come hangout with me and the boys, get a game of pool in.”

“Sounds lovely.” You return with a murmur, eyes not leaving Simon’s. “I’ll be back later, baby.” And that, coupled with the kiss you give his palm, is shocking to your team. Though it sends waves of butterflies through Simon’s stomach.

These public displays of affection are entirely foreign to your relationship, but you’re both basking in the sweetness of it. And maybe this is the perfect time for you to explore it, for you to outwardly show your love and attraction for him just when he needs it most.

On your way out, Johnny doesn’t mention the way every single person’s eyes widen in the room when your affectionate nicknames are exchanged, or the way a few heads turn. He chooses to stay silent, smiling to himself while leading you out of the room.

Returning to a sleeping Simon is bittersweet. You’re glad he’s resting, but you’d do anything to finish your earlier conversation. But it’s late, and you figure at this point, you’ll have to wait until morning.

The rainfall makes you tired, too, yawning as you walk further in. It was only three days into Simon’s recovery that you started sleeping in his room, bringing a small, foldable cot for you to curl up on. His bed wasn’t big enough for the two of you, and besides, you’re pretty sure Price would light a fire up both your asses if he caught you snoozing next to him.

As quietly as you can, you unfold your small bed and bring it to the side of his. It sits lower, but Simon often made up for that by dropping his arm, letting you hold onto his hand throughout the night. But with him asleep, you don’t think you’ll get that luxury tonight. Nevertheless, you curl up in your blanket, resting only in your underclothes as you doze off beside him.

“Miss you.”

That rumbling voice almost scares you in the near silence, your body jolting ever so slightly. When did he wake up? Still, those two simple words make your insides burn bright.

Lips curling happily, you mutter, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Quietly, you then ask, “Want me to come up there?” It’s happened once or twice before, but only for some cuddles. Simon’s grown quite accustomed to your touch.

With a heavy sigh, he gives in. “You know I do.”

Absolutely thrilled with his request, you pop right up, situating yourself on the right side of his bed. Simon likes it best when you curl up on this side, allowing him to wrap his good arm around you. Cuddling into him, you revel in the closeness - you haven’t done this in weeks. He’s resting on his back, the same position he always sleeps in. And with you by his side, he turns his head in your direction, releasing a contented breath.

“Hey, gorgeous.” He says to you sweetly, fondly, covered lips pressing to the top of your head.

“Hm…” Sighing happily, you twine your legs between his much bulkier appendages, draping an arm across his abdomen. You’re so happy he still wants this, wants you and this relationship.

“Cozy?” He chuckles, eyes closed as he grins.

“Mhm,” Snuggling further into him, he can feel your smile press against his bare skin. Ghost usually slept nearly naked, only black boxers hugging his body. And you liked it best this way, for multiple reasons. One being that you’re able to see more of his tattoos. He has some on his chest, one reaching up to his collarbones and neck. And you just love them, found them incredibly interesting and undeniably sexy.

“Love this…” Tracing a particularly larger tat, your smile becomes brighter than ever. “Love the way you feel.”

“Yeah? Even when I’m like this?” His tone expresses the dry humor he’s far too familiar with, the same dry humor that covers up his emotions.

“Big teddy bear.” And that makes him fully laugh. “Strong.”

“Don’t feel too strong.”

Simon was never one to be insecure of his body, of the multitude of scars on it. Cuts that dug deep, burns that marred his skin, none of it bothered him, not even when he showed himself to you like this. What did bother him, though, was the fact that he looked weak. He couldn't stand it, and to say his ego was taking a hit would be an understatement.

“Baby,” With a heavy breath, you shake your head lightly beneath him. “You’re so fucking hard on yourself.”

All he does is grunt in response, becoming quite pensive. Though, he tries not to be. Getting lost in his thoughts wasn’t something Simon liked doing. Lucky for him, your hand serves as a distraction. Running your palm down his torso, you take this opportunity to feel the muscles along his stomach and ribs, the v-line leading down to his pelvis. And it makes him shiver with anticipation.

You’re not sure how to start this conversation again, mainly because of how distracted you’ve become. Feeling Simon’s naked body always made you feel excited inside, always made you feel eager and lustful. But you want to care for him emotionally, too.

“I hope you know how much I still love you.” Continuing to lower your hand, you suddenly feel Simon’s chest dip, releasing a heated breath. “How much I love your body…”

“Hm…” The further you get, the more interested he becomes. The fact that you still find him appealing, even like this, it’s repairing his ego bit by bit. Truthfully, it’s everything he’s needed. “Miss you touchin’ me…”

“Do you miss this, too?” Lightly, ever so lightly, you cup him over his clothes. And the gentle stimulation is more than enough to arouse him.

The intimacy you share with Simon is addicting, and the withdrawal has been a bitch. But just like that, as soon as you get the tiniest taste, you’re hooked all over again.

“Fuck, yes.” Groaning in frustration, he forces out a breath. And fuck you’ve missed that, hearing the eager roughness to his tone. “Been so long since I’ve had you.”

Feeling your hand on his crotch like that, it lights a fire inside him. All over again, he wants you, wants to throw you down on this bed and take you. Shove himself inside until you’re fluttering, spurting with cum before he releases his own. Hold you down and make you take it, for however long he likes. Rub his face over your chest, down the valley between your breasts, sucking on their soft flesh. Haul your leg up over his waist and grab a fistful of your ass, spanking it until the pain turns into something irresistibly sweet.

But he can’t. He physically can’t.

The arm holding you tightens against your body, against your own strong muscles. Irritation courses through his veins, knowing he can’t do much but god damn if he won’t try to do what he can. Turning his head, he ducks down, pressing his covered lips to your own with a forceful breath. Easily, wholeheartedly, you embrace him, hand lifting to cup his jaw. Your mouth presses to the shape of his lips, the covered kiss far too teasing for the current moment.

“Baby, can we? Please?” Sliding down ever so slightly, your fingertips graze the edge of his mask, wanting desperately to see him; any part of him.

“I… I want to, B.” The hesitancy in his voice is worrying. “But it just… it won’t be the same.”

Even through the mask, you can feel his breath, experiencing the humid touch of it against your face.

“I don’t care how it is, I just want it. I want you, Simon. I’ve missed you so fucking much.” Impatiently, you tug on his mask, leaning up against to press your mouth to his skull covering. It’s needy, it’s wanting, so openly throwing yourself at him he honestly can’t believe it. He hasn’t seen you like this in far too long, and he’d be an idiot to let this opportunity go, especially when it’s all he’s fucking thought about.

The way your tongue slides out, pressing against the white and black fabric, it makes him growl with passion. Quickly, yet shakily, his left hand rises, flipping the edge of his mask up before grabbing onto your jaw. Squishing your cheeks a bit he brings you in, bare lips crashing into your own. Open mouths press together, wet and warm and familiar. And those thick fingers dig into the fabric along your hip, wishing it were bare skin.

“Baby,” With your fingernails scraping down his chest, you have to stop yourself from digging in too deeply. But it’s difficult when he’s kissing you like this, when he’s shoving his tongue inside your mouth so he can map it out all over again. “How could you ever think I’m not attracted to you?”

The air leaving your chest is instantly sucked back in, your chest rising and falling as you feel Simon’s hand glide down your waist. He’s bringing you in even closer, pressing your body to his, feeling your warmth.

“Don’t you know how fucking sexy you are, Simon?”

“Get up here,” That gruff voice suddenly demands, “On my lap, B.”

He doesn’t have to ask you twice, your eager movements are evidence of that. Slipping your shorts and panties down your legs, you leave them on the cot as you slide easily on top of him. Your thighs encase his hips as you make yourself comfortable on him, center lowered right onto his. And your lips don’t even leave, he wouldn’t allow it.

“That’s so good…” Both of Simon’s hands now fall to your hips, holding onto you firmly.

The way his teeth nip at your lips makes you sigh, little whines spilling from your mouth when they turn into bites. And all at once, his hands are roaming your body, sliding up beneath your shirt to feel your bare stomach, the skin of your hips and sides. The way you’re embracing each other is so lustful, so impassioned and fervent. It’s like it’s the first time all over again.

“You’re fucking perfect, you know that?” His words make you laugh, but he’s insistent. “Every goddamn day, whether you’re working or not, even on that bloody mission, you’re stunning, B.”

“Simon,” You begin to protest, but he continues, mouthing at your lips as he bursts with praise for you.

“Such a pretty girl for me,” Your lover says, hips beginning to grind up against you. “Always so pretty…”

“Ugh, I fucking missed you. I need you, Si. I need this.” Holding his face with both hands, you lean in, resting your forehead over his own as you begin to meet his gentle thrusts. “I don’t give a shit how many scars you have, how many injuries I have to see through. I’m here, Simon. I’m here and I’m not fucking leaving you.”

“I love you.” He suddenly blurts out, as if he’d been dying to say it this entire time. “I can’t lose you, B. Never opened myself up to anyone but you.”

“I know, baby. I know… and I love everything you’ve given me. Everything you are.”

“Not everything.” Giving his head a quick shake, hands guiding the sway of your hips over him.

“Everything.”

Your correction prompts Simon’s direct eye contact, a small pause in this heated moment. Flickering between your irises, Ghost’s own pupils widen, filled with something akin to adoration, something made of lust and absolute devotion.

“Simon,” Whining quietly, you resume your subtle shifts over his lap, his own hips easily resuming their pace, too. “Please, I need you again, baby.”

“I, I just… it won’t be the same, Bones.” But he’s still kissing you, still grinding up against your sensitive core and breathing the air puffing past your lips. And you can feel him, having fully hardened and sitting firm between your legs.

“I don’t fucking care, Simon. If you want this, tell me. And I’ll make it happen.”

“Yeah? And what’ll you do?” He asks, grinning while lifting his good hand to the back of your head.

“Ride you,” Panting, you grind yourself over the thickness of the erection rising steadily in his briefs. “Just like I used to.”

Betraying his rotten inner emotions, the ones that had convinced him you no longer saw him with the same desire in your eyes, a smirk forms on those smooth lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Devouring him, your tongue slides into his mouth, swallowing his moan while dragging the wet muscle over his own. But he quickly takes the lead, using the hand on your head to move you how he likes. He takes great pleasure in this, in having some semblance of control while you’re like this.

“Fuck, do it.” He finally decides, his entire body shuddering with desire. “Fucking do it.”

Instantly, you’re dropping one hand from his face and reaching for his boxers. You find him easily, pulling aside the fabric and watching as he practically jumps into your hand.

“Christ,” Red and leaking, throbbing, Simon’s cock weighs heavy in your hand.

“Excited?” Grinning wildly, you lean in, running the tip of your nose over his cheek.

“Very.” Evidenced by the liquid warmth drooling from his cockhead, he’s correct.

Running your thumb over his slit, you take great pride in watching him twitch. “Don - Don’t tease. Just put it in.”

It’s too damn easy for you to listen to him, to follow his every command. Lifting yourself, your eyes fall to the sight you’ve so dearly missed. And with both of you watching, you line him up with your entrance, licking your lower lip with anticipation.

“C’mon, come down now…” His hands are pulling on your hips, becoming impatient. “Put the tip of my cock against that pretty little hole.”

Fuck, you missed this, the way he talked to you during times like this. He was always so good with it.

“Mm…” Slowly, you sink down, inch by thick inch. The whine that slips past your lips is shrill, feeling his head spread you open. But Simon is quick to hush you, bringing you in for a bruising kiss.

“You can do it, just like before.” He says to you through sweet, wet kisses.

“Simon…”

“Just like that, just like that, princess.” His hands continue to urge you on, pulling you down onto him. “What happened, huh? Get a little tighter without me around?”

“F-Fuck,” Dropping your head onto his shoulder boosts his confidence incredibly; your submissive side is coming out again, and it’s making him feel dominant.

“Oh, just look at the way it stretches for me, Christ…” Feeling your velvety inside envelope his tip, it’s almost too much for him. “Such a good pussy.”

“Baby…” Turning your head, you press a flurry of fervent kisses to his mask. “I’ve needed you for so long, you don’t know how bad I’ve missed this.”

“I know, trust me.” Releasing a dry laugh, Simon’s eyes raise with awareness.

Clinging to his shoulders, you gasp when he finally bottoms out inside you, sitting entirely over his pelvis. And with your ass flush against his lap, he throbs violently against your walls, every thick vein pulsing beneath your core’s hot squeeze.

“Sweetheart,” Taking in a lungful of air, he says, “You know how many times I’ve thought about this? Thought about fuckin’ you again? Thought about this sweet ass on my lap, about the way this pretty pussy grips me…”

“Tell me,” Clinging to his shoulders, your nails dig into him once again, lips pressing to his neck. “Please tell me.”

Wrapping his right arm around your back, he pulls you flush against his chest. The sudden movement knocks you away from his neck, with Simon’s lips returning to yours all over again. The embrace is sweet and smooth, his talented lips captivating your attention.

“Whenever you weren’t here… I took every goddamn opportunity. Fucked my fist to the thought of you, B. But, ngh…” Feeling you wiggle over his lap, he grunts. “It’s never the same. Not even bloody close.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Using those broad shoulders as leverage, you lift yourself, setting a steady pace over him.

“Christ,” Head lolling back, his eyes follow. “Didn’t, fuck… didn’t want to pressure you.”

“I like when you do that to me. Make me feel small, and needed.”

The stride you continue with over Simon’s lap is baffling to him, riddling his body with overstimulation. Every time you meet his pelvis, you grind down onto him, onto the grown-out hairs surrounding his base.

“You’re always needed.” He whispers to you, kissing your cheek as it rests beside him. “Fucking hell, princess, I can feel you dripping down my shaft.”

The sound your wetness creates resonates throughout the room, prompting a bashfulness to rise hotly in your cheeks. Dropping your forehead to his shoulder, you moan openly into his ear, feeling both of those broad hands lower to your cheeks. Summoning every ounce of strength he has, he bounces you down onto his lap, punching himself into your depths. And every thrust he gives shoves him even deeper inside, his tip nudging your most sensitive skin.

“No,” He then seethes, moving his head in your direction. “Don’t hide yourself from me, not now. Not when I finally have you again.”

But when he turns his head to the side, his mask shifts, a bout of frustration rising within him. “Fucking, ngh.”

It’s a quick decision, one he makes out of genuine love for you.

Reaching up, Simon tears his mask from his head, tossing it to the floor and grabbing your face again. Before you can get a good look at him, his mouth is on you, the hand he used on his mask now pawing at your breasts.

“Take it off, love. Take this off for me.”

But you’re still processing the fact that he just took off his mask, and you want to see him. He doesn’t let you, though, he’s too busy tugging at the ends of your shirt. So, you oblige him, leaning back to lift it from your torso. Just as it leaves your head, Simon is lifting his chin up to your chest, mouth enveloping your left nipple.

“Baby, let me,” Hands holding his head, your own tips back, mouth falling agape with a graceful moan.

Ghost’s mouth sucks on you fervently, tongue flicking over the delicate peak before biting at it ever so gently.

“Please let me see you.”

Insecurity overtakes him then, now that you’ve fully asked. And you can tell - he practically curls in on himself.

“You don’t want me to?” And with that gentle inquiry, he’s taking in a steadying breath, eyes beginning to lift.

From beneath his brow, those dark eyes lift to yours, chin following soon after. And for the first time since this horrid incident, you’re seeing him, fully seeing him.

“No,” Giving his head a light shake, he stares into your dazzling orbs. “Don’t stop, babe. Please, don’t.”

And you want to listen, want to give him what he wants but it’s hard when you’re witnessing the beauty of Simon’s face. The scars, the cuts and curves, his nose and jawline, all of his features coming together as one, once again. The memory of his face was once a painful thought, but now… it can be replaced.

“It’s so nice to see you again, baby.”

The strength of his arms and hands continues your movement, pushing you forward onto his chest. Here, he nuzzles into you, arms securing themselves around your midsection. Simon’s nose rubs against your neck, committing your scent, your feel, to memory.

“Only for you.” He murmurs, placing a tender kiss. “Can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“You’re everything I need.” Grinding up into your center, he forces a gasp from your chest, spreading your cheeks until slight pain begins to bloom. “Christ, I’m not going to last long like this, not with these gorgeous fucking tits pressed against me like this.”

“Baby, we need this more… can we please? Please?”

“Every chance we get.” Nipping at your ear, the low groan he exudes sends a shiver right through you.

The pleasurable waves flowing through your hips are nothing compared to the sharp jolts of ecstasy every thrust of his hips gives. At times, you think about how foolish he is to think that his strength has left him, what with the way his muscles bend and ripple with every firm grab, every harsh slap he now delivers.

“Look at me.” Ghost demands in that deep, rough tone. “Look at me, and listen well.”

Lifting your head, you do just that, memorizing every feature of his face. Subconsciously, your hand lifts, cupping his clean jawline with your thumb stroking his cheek.

“You’re mine, understand? Mine to fucking keep. And there’ll be no more misunderstandings between us.”

“No more,” Shaking your head, you hold his gaze, lips parting from his continued movements. “F-Fuck.”

“You gonna cum for me, huh? Just like you used to? Back when you first cared for me, back when we’d smoke in the Jeep…”

“Yes,” You don’t want to look away from him, but your head drops regardless. The pleasure flowing through your thighs turns every muscle you have to jelly, the wetness growing beneath you evidence of this. “I miss it.”

“Then give it to me, before I give mine to you.”

The way he phrases it has you falling apart in his arms, still strong enough to keep you together on his chest. His body, thick and bulky, holds you tightly against him, feeling your limbs quiver above him. His fingers continue to dig into the softness of your cheeks before landing another harsh smack, listening to your shrill cry while you shake on his lap. It’s all-consuming, blinding, the euphoria bursting inside your body.

“Goddamn,” Simon huffs out, his voice tense and strained.

The grip he has on you turns bruising, his body curling around you as he releases. And his teeth bite into your shoulder as he does, the muscles in his abdomen flinching with every milky rope that leaves him.

You can feel it, the evidence of his pleasure washing your insides white. The way he throbs against your walls, swollen and pulsing, his entire body releasing. Every ounce of worry and stress, any bit of anxiety, it’s flushed away with the help of your reassurance, of your devotion and unwavering passion.

Fully wrapping your arms around his neck, you rest flush against him, mouth pressing to his stubbled cheek over and over again. And the next sound to delight your ears is Simon’s laugh.

“Mm…” His groan sounds… content, relaxed. “You make me happy, B. Happier than I’ve been in… a long time.”

“Happier than you’ve ever been,” You correct him cheekily, shuddering slightly as you come down from the pleasure he so wonderfully brings. “You can say it, baby.”

Rolling his eyes, he gives your backside a light tap. “Don’t get cocky with it, now.”

“Simon,” Inhaling a deep breath, you allow yourself to be fully vulnerable with him. “I don’t ever want to be that far from you again.”

And he knows what you mean. Ghost was never known as an emotional man, and likely never will be. But with you, it’s a different story.

“You won’t be.” He reassures you quietly, calmly. “We’re here, everything’s just like it should be.”

“Mhm,” Nodding, you keep your arms around him, not wanting to let go.

“It’s just you and me, B.”

#Simon Riley #I love you baby #you're everything I need #Simon “Ghost” Riley #Simon Riley x you #Simon Riley x reader #Simon Riley x female reader #Simon Riley smut #Simon Riley fluff #so many fluffies #Call of Duty #cod #cod mw2 #Call of Duty fanfiction

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starsopinions · 3 months ago

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The Minecraft movie........

I've been playing Minecraft for as long as I can remember. My brother and I would spend hours on Hypixel, our survival world, and building escape rooms for each other (the exit would no doubt be behind a painting). As a movie fanatic, a film about Minecraft sounds like such a fun concept with great potential yet from the look from the teaser trailer it seems like all that potential will remain unused.

Link to the trailer if you haven't seen it yet!

Plenty of people have already commented on how it looks, which let’s be frank, is terrible. This post, however, is not about the look but the story so here is a summary: The set design is quite nice except it does not look like any Minecraft biome. The people look extremely out of place, especially Steve who is supposed to be part of this world. Last but not least, there are moving, working windmills. Anyone who has played Minecraft will probably feel the same way about this, which is not happy. This is the main problem, the makers have maybe watched 1 Let’s Play. They don’t know the Minecraft experience. They haven’t played hardcore survival and felt the pain when you die because your elytra breaks, they have never gone mining at 2 am on a rainy night or have built a beautiful base they a proud of.

Which brings us to the soulless plot. For anyone unfamiliar, this is what Warner Bros. describes it as: “Four misfits—Garrett “The Garbage Man” Garrison, Henry, Natalie and Dawn—find themselves struggling with ordinary problems when they are suddenly pulled through a mysterious portal into the Overworld: a bizarre, cubic wonderland that thrives on imagination. To get back home, they’ll have to master this world (and protect it from evil things like Piglins and Zombies, too) while embarking on a magical quest with an unexpected, expert crafter, Steve. Together, their adventure will challenge all five to be bold and to reconnect with the qualities that make each of them uniquely creative…the very skills they need to thrive back in the real world.”

That made me throw up in my mouth a little. Minecraft is such a fun and unique game and this is what they come up with? Minecraft is a game about being creative and there are literally endless possibilities. This plot has nothing to do with the actual game and could be applied to any video game. Speaking of other games, it hasn’t escaped anyone’s notice that this is the exact plot of the movie Jumanji.

I’m secretly hoping they pull a Sonic and fix the movie at the last minute but I don’t think that is realistic. I don’t think all is lost though, Emma Myers (who plays Natalie) is, in my opinion, a great addition to the cast and is funny and talented. The rest of the cast isn’t much to write home about, unfortunately. As stated before, I do think the set has a cool look to it, it is just a shame that it doesn’t look like Minecraft.

Here is what I would do if I were in charge:

Firstly the whole cast is going. I would make it an animated film, Minecraft isn’t a realistic game and it doesn’t come across well in live-action. Steve and Alex would be the main characters.

The movie would have an entirely different plot and would either focus on Steve and Alex trying to defeat the Enderdragon for the first time, etc. (I think this is a bit basic but sometimes less is more)

Or it could be about the lore of the Enderdragon, Endermen, Ghasts, etc. and what happened to them and how they ended up where they are. There are so many theories about this online and it’s a side of that Minecraft hasn't been explored yet.

Another option could be about the villagers and pillagers. It would be cool to see more of their history and maybe Steve meddling to make peace or something in that direction. Think about how cool raids could be in movie form.

(see how I just thought of 3 way more original and fun plots off the top of my head when the writers couldn’t think of a singular one in months)-

A MUST for me is the classic Minecraft music. It should be in the trailer, in the movie, it should be everywhere. It is so nostalgic and everyone who has ever played Minecraft knows how iconic it is. (not saying it is not in the movie right now, I obviously haven’t seen it yet but wanted to include this point)

I think it could be cool if, for example, Steve would find a new biome or a new item and then we would get it in the game in an update. It would show a real connection between the movie and the game which is missing right now. (again not saying they won’t do this but I’m not getting my hopes up)

Besides all this, it would be amazing to see jokes and references to the actual game. Think forgetting to set your spawnpoint, inventory being full, etc.

And lastly, I NEED to see Minecraft YouTuber's references. I think they might do this, I’ve seen multiple YouTubers talk about the movie and I know Mumbo visited the set, so there is a possibility. Minecraft has one of the biggest YouTube communities, not referencing it would be a missed opportunity for sure.

I don’t think this movie will be especially bad, from the looks of it, it’s going to be a whole lot of meh. I do want to say that I have not seen the movie yet as it isn’t out yet, this means that a lot could still change (please please please). I will be in the cinema on April 4th with low expectations but high hopes, I have never wanted to be wrong more. Let me know what you think and thank you for reading all the way to the end <3

As always, this is MY opinion. Feel free to disagree but remember: It is a game about blocks, it's not that important (she says after ranting about it for like 2 hours lmao).

#minecraft #minecraft movie #minecraft fanart #minecraft art #minecraft smp #mineblr #minecraft mods #starsopinions☆

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jennydwren · 3 months ago

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My Arthur: Some Night Thoughts

In between the cancellation of The Acolyte (there's still hope, Clone Wars came back) and the premiere of Rings of Power S2 -- and I PROMISE you that each and every dudebro I blocked in these situations on the former bird app either had crypto in bio or a timeline that was entirely focused on a sports team... I mean, why not think about RDR2? I want to think what it means that so many players speak of MY Arthur, like we all have little pocket Arthurs as pets. "I like my Arthur to be a scary bad guy so I keep him shaved bald." "Well, my Arthur looks his best with Level 7 or 8 hair and a Level 1 or 2 beard." "This time I'm making sure that my Arthur has the best satchel and the Legend of the East outfit." "I always pamper my Arthur before a hard mission. I buy him a ribeye steak at a saloon, get him a bath, and let him sleep just one more night in a hotel. I feed him up to Overweight before Guarma and Chapter 6." "My Arthur is high honor. He would never do XYZ." "Oh yeah? I think my Arthur loves being low honor and beating the crap out of people." "Weird. My Arthur's favorite missions are the dinosaur bones." All of these Arthurs are different and yet the same. All of them are doomed. You have to rewind the timeline and go back to a Chapter 2 save to have a healthy Arthur who can chat and sing with his compadres at the campfire. Nobody's Arthur, until you take him out of the game and into some of the absolutely and utterly beautiful fanart and fanfics, can succeed with Mary Linton, or Charles for that matter. The R* canon Arthur is always doomed. What does it say about us that we can't bear to let go of him, even though his own dialogue tells us he clearly sees the writing on the wall as early as Chapter 1? Is it just the natural human abhorrence of the reality that we too will someday die without accomplishing all that we wanted to? I can relate. Big mood, Arthur. In fragmenting into all of these disparate Arthurs -- Roger Clark has pointed out more people own copies of the game than live in Ireland -- maybe that's how the egregore, the Arthur conjured from the collective consciousness of millions of individual players, stays alive. Many writers of fanfics want their Arthur to be theirs. Not just a rough fuck on daddy's kitchen counter, although I've read that story too, and not just the Not Enough Beds trope, though that too was a fine story. They want to smash Arthur because who doesn't? But they want him to love them, despite R* Arthur having not one single solitary relationship skill. This new Arthur teaches you to draw (the preponderance of Arthur fics I've read involve a "you" reader). Your wish that he address you as he does a mare, "That's mah good girl," comes resplendently true. Sometimes, such are the fix-him powers of You that You and he escape the gang before the name Thomas Downes can be uttered. Arthur's heart beats for You and You alone. Sometimes he protects You from danger. Sometimes he accepts a free sample of sponge cake from You in a bakery. All of these Arthurs go out Arthuring all over the wrong but familiar RDR2 America, often with You at their side. Sometimes You even find him on the cliffside before his rattling last breath, and drag him to safety and a warm, dry climate. One Arthur I read was even saved by a doctor in Mexico with the only available treatment of the period -- collapsing part of the lung -- and recovered fully, having four kids with Sadie Adler and saving most of the RDR world along the way.

You can have your Arthur and play him too. Indeed, a fresh shot of Roger Clark's bravura performance -- combined, as he is the first to point out, with the animators' work, for example giving him the most delicious lower lip -- compounds the infatuation should it threaten to recede.

People suffer profound grief over this game. Of course, it is their own grief from non-digital life: "It is Margaret you mourn for" -- Gerard Manley Hopkins. Perhaps the loss of their Arthur and the way his surviving friends gradually adjust to the loss helps people make room for the holes in their own lives. But that's the thing. That's the comfort at the bottom of the grief pit.

Because once you find your Arthur, including within yourself (I don't just mean cosplay, but I've seen people of all genders don the stained blue workshirt, the suspenders, the neckerchief, the goddamn hat, and wear Arthur on their bodies)... you can't ever really lose him. He changes you. And that may be the strangest and most wonderful thing you can say about a work of fiction.

Keep sharing your Arthurs. The chibis, the young Arthurs cradling poor Isaac or reading to child John Marston, the AUs, the low-honor black coyotes and the high-honor 14-point stags. Marthur, Charthur, Albert Mason x Arthur. All the versions of him. Because they're also You.

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ms-cartoon · 10 months ago

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Warning: This post will contain mentions of assault or anything along the lines of it. You get the idea.

My review for HH ep 2 was supposed to be out by now, but there are some things I have to say first. My reasoning for sticking around for Hazbin Hotel is all gone except for Vox right now. I love Husk too, but they really just kinda ruined him for me in ep 4. I'm probably being dramatic but that's just how I feel. If he's supposed to be this wise bartender who's meant to make people feel better and help reach an understanding of some sort, he really just failed at that.

EP 4 of Hazbin Hotel is probably the worst one out of all the eps released so far. There are PLENTY of flaws to point out, but they can be said for some other posts I'll upload soon. What I'm mainly concerned with as of now is that "Loser Baby" song sung by HuskerDust.

So it's revealed that Husk was once an overlord and was always gambling. He betted his status and powers when playing against Alastor and lost. Now I guess he's forced to do whatever Alastor wants such as being a bartender. . . .

Sorry to get off topic here but. . . . Husk was an overlord??? I don't like how they just suddenly reveal that. It caught me off guard. I know they sorta foreshadowed it in the pilot, but they should've given most newcomers to the show a hint or something. It honestly feels like the writers just pulled that revelation out their asses just to add some positivity and similarity between Angel and Husk's relationship (because Viv and the fans just love idea of this ship oh so much)

Also, since he was previously an overlord, how come nobody's heard of him??? Everybody will get shocked when they hear or see Alastor or recognize him by his radio shows. Everybody knows the Three Vs, Camilla, etc. but not a Husk??? The Overlord with a gambling addiction?? Charlie and Vaggie will get shocked when Alastor comes in the picture but look at Husk like he's some random dude that just popped outta nowhere?

Plus, Alastor didn't force Husk to work as a bartender. In the pilot, he was easily convinced with cheap booze.

Speaking of his gambling addiction; well we all know he likes to gamble judging by his appearance. But gambling being his addiction?? Since when was that implied?

Anyway . . . . At this point, I don't get what the idea of that song is or what Husk meant by it. Maybe I am overlooking it, but its pretty hard not to believe knowing how Viv screws up her writing skills and how she went about it. According to all the Viv defenders, the song was meant to say Angel isn't alone in being stuck in a situation he feels he can't get out of and that Husk can understand where he's coming from and what he's going through. Well sorry to burst y'all's bubble, but even if that was, they just did wrong ENTIRELY. (Sidenote: If you Hazbin lovers wanna see it how u see it, then fine. But Imma stick with what I believe and there's nothing that could be said to change my mind, so don't bother trying to correct me.)

Husk makes it seem like he knows exactly what it's like being in Angel's shoes; signing a contract and being forced to do something against his will. That part seems to be the only thing they have similar. Except what happened with Husk in the past should NOT count as a similarity!

Husk: Loses a bet against Alastor, costing his soul and status as an overlord. Agrees to commit to Alastor's biddings apparently, including being a bartender for a hotel (which he wasn't really forced to do. He doesn't seem to be afraid in refusing Alastor's requests. I partially don't even believe it was apart of the deal to do what Alastor wanted)

Angel: Is a pornstar. Forced to be a pornstar and do whatever Val wants him to do. Including submitting to him and his sexual needs, getting beaten, r8ped, assaulted (sexually even), exploited, drugged, etc.

What part of Angel's problem should Husk be understanding? Alastor doesn't beat or r8pe Husk! It's never even revealed what Husk goes through with Alastor. I doubt it's anything bad on his part, since he clearly isn't afraid to talk smack to the powerful radio demon who could kill him in an instant. They just . . . had that past and now Husk is doing him a permanant favor. What Husk is doing now isn't even anything bad. He's working as a bartender for a hotel and is being paid to do it. He may not like, but it's nothing bad. What ANGEL is going through on the other hand?? The word "bad" doesn't even begin to cover it.

Husk may not know what Angel goes through (though he should connect the dots since Angel hinted at him when he revealed he gets drugged all the time) but Angel just full on agreeing with him and accepting that he's a loser for what he goes through and having to embrace his situation????

Ummm . . . . NO!

Bro! You just saw Angel about to get drugged!! He should NOT have to accept that!!

#anti hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel criticism #vivziepop critical

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h0ney-mochi · 2 years ago

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Oh, dear Valentine of mine.

Scaramouche x reader ;; readers pronouns not mentioned

SMUT/NSFW CONTENT (sort of soft? scaramouche, top!scaramouche, bottom!reader, too long intro, it's just seggs bro)

Summary: Scara doesn't understand Valentines, but his mind is occupied with you. Coming home earlier than usual, he makes a little something for you, not knowing said dish won't be even touched for the night.

A/n: joining my favorite writer's and mutual's (@sumeruin ) collab event <3 Glad to be participating heheh, hope this is good enough to be in the event ٩(◕‿◕)۶ Go check out other ppls entries btw !!!! Happy late Valentines Day everyone <3

Minor writer, dni if uncomfortable!

Scaramouche didn't care for Valentines Day. Why would couples need a day about themselves, for themselves? To show off? Get a pass to makeout wherever they wanted to for a day? That's stupid reasoning. It's annoying.

He still thinks the same after being around you. Just a little, little less.

Yet when he wakes up and heads to the kitchen, he didn't expect you to be wrapping up a medium-sized gift. You didn't notice him, making sure all looked good, taping a small note on top. You jumped in surprise when you raised your head and saw him standing there.

"Oh-! Good morning!" You speak, smile on your lips as you walk to him. He raises his eyebrows at you and you give him a kiss. You whisper a simple Valentines greeting, quickly taking the gift and handing it to him.

"You don't need to open it now," you glance away, "You can do it after work. I heard your annoyed whispers when we went in that shop that already had decorations." Looking away from you and at the box, he slowly takes it, nodding.

"Will be better after work, so I get a distraction from my stupid colleagues," Scara speaks and you smile again. You ask about breakfast, but he says he needs to leave earlier. Of course you let him go, this was normal.

You knew he'll probably late home again. Maybe later just to not experience Valentines. Part of you did hope he'd come sooner. Oh well, another day, you should head out. Running out of few ingredients.

...

All day Scaramouche was uneasy. He did catch couples here and there, making him groan at the sight. Why in public? Seriously? Are they trying to prove something?

Yet his mind wandered to you. You're doing all these efforts for him, for the two of you. Not once were you unhappy about each occasion, event, or his attitude, whatever it was. His eyes glued onto the gift you gave him.

He should be with you, not here. And so he leaves, muttering something about an 'urgency.'

When he gets home, it's quiet. Making sure the place is all to himself, he decides to recheck his cooking skills! Thinking for first few moments of what did you like, what could he make for you?

Scara was really focused on doing the finishing touches to a dish for the two of you that he didn't even hear the door opening up. Only when you walk into the kitchen with a bag in hand, your voice breaking the silence.

He immediately turns to you, wide eyes. You stare at each other for a few seconds before you start giggling. His brows furrowed in confusement. What's so funny now? Are you making fun of him?

"Share the joke, idiot," Scara groans, "I've got shit to do." "You- you have icing on your face, darling," you say and laugh, covering your mouth. He blinks, hand reaching up to find it somehow. Then he sighs in frustration, muttering a 'shut up'.

He turns back to finish up with said icing.

"I'm right! There is something!" You say, walking past him, putting your bag down on the counter. A smile stayed your lips while the man said some more curses under his breath.

"You're back early, what's up?" You break the silence again. "What, I can't come home and see my darling?" Scara immediately responds, straightening his back, done with his work. You just shook your head, emptying the bag, putting the contents where they're supposed to be.

It was silent, which had you worried a little. You walk next to him and your eyes immediately catch onto the two dishes. You can't help but let out an 'awe.'

"Made this for us- you," He corrects himself, glancing at you before going to put other stuff away. You stare for a while before finally turning towards him to respond. Before you could start your sentence with a thanks, you're met with his lips against yours.

His hands immediately pulled you closer, holding you in place. You were caught off guard, but kissed him back. After a moment Scara pulled away, staring at you.

"I don't give a fuck about the dish, or about this day, not even the fact that half of the people made out in our stupid hallways," He groans, remembering his day, "It's weird."

You blinked then smiled, "Will there be a follow up?" He slowly nods, "The only thing I give a fuck about is you and how you're always here. I'm- that's weird to say, isn't it?"

"Scara, did you even open the gift I gave you?" You ask and he shakes his head. You nod your head to the side and he takes the hint. Leaving you he goes to get said gift you gave him in the morning.

Inside there were some chocolates, a letter type note you wrote for him, and a smaller different note. He looks at you, "You know I'm not the one for sweets." "That's why I got a new tea taste for you."

It went silent.

Scara was back in front you, taking your hand and pulling you away from the kitchen. "What- did you not like the gift? Was my handwriting hard to read-?" You ask, wondering. He shakes his head, pulling you inside the bedroom.

Once the door is closed, you're pushed against it, Scaramouche breathing in your neck. It sure as hell made you shiver. "No," he speaks, "Nothing's wrong." He lifts his head to look at your confused face, "Everything is how it should be."

...

His nails left marks in your skin from how hard he was holding you. Scara's breathing in your neck, harshly thrusting inside of you while you clawed at his back. Your eyes keep squeezing shut, yet you try to keep them open, to see your lover.

When Scaramouche straightens his back a little to watch you, noises slip past his lips. You're just too gorgeous like this — fucked out expression, warm cheeks, struggling to keep eye contact, your eyes rolling back.

He continues to stare, angling his hips in a different way just to see you turn your head to the side, feel your nails dig in his skin harder. Right then and there he knows he doesn't need anything else in this life other than you.

"[Name], fuck- Look at me," his hand leaves your thigh, going to hold your chin. You focus your gaze on his, a small smile tugging on your lips. His thumb rubs your cheek and Scara leans in for a kiss. Your hands go up to his neck, one hand tangling into his hair.

When you were down on the bed and having a messy makeout, you didn't think so much would happen in a day. A Valentines Day.

There was a stutter in his thrusts, Scaramouche pulling away from your lips. You took one of your hands away and intertwined your fingers with his. He squeezed your hand, nails digging at the back of your hand. You could tell he was trying to not break on top of you. Eyes getting more hazy, voice getting higher, moans mixing with yours.

You were his gift and he was yours.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer again. There's a sharp inhale and his other hand goes to hold onto your waist, pace a little rougher. The way you clench down on his cock is bringing him more and more to the edge.

His name sounds pretty on your tongue. He needs to hear more of it.

Scara leans down to suck another dark mark on your skin. Your head is thrown back, other hand is tugging on his dark hair. You've messed it up with all your desperate tugging. The air feels thick, the sheets feel troublesome and hot.

Your moans of his name get louder and he leaves your neck to look at you. He wants to see the expression on your face when you cum on his dick. He needs to know he has made you feel so, so good. It doesn't take long, his hand is squeezing yours again.

Your body shudders, eyes almost closing, but you keep that eye contact. Scaramouche thrusts inside you few more times until his fast pace drops. Heavy, warm sighs fill the silence. You blinked up at your lover. He swallows, focusing on your eyes once more.

"Scara?" You weakly smiled, "Does.. this mean you're my Valentine for the day?" He raises an eyebrow and you couldn't help, but let out a small laugh. "Does this mean you're mine?" He answers you with a question, leaning down to your face.

You nod, putting your hands around his neck again, "Of course." Scaramouche gives you a quick peck on your lips before responding.

"Let's get you cleaned up, dear Valentine of mine."

Thank you for reading <3 Enjoy your day with a cup of tea, reader. ♡

#☆°• ☆ writings #scaramouche x reader smut #scaramouche x you #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact x reader smut

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