#the interest of others in seeing more of my ideas make me really happy!!! ^__^

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS Xavier: Horror Games | SFW Drabble

Had this idea earlier chatting with the group. Just. Xavier things. Cute boi. Happy guy. I love him. Also this is completely unedited so you're welcome in advance. Typos are a paid actor in my works.

Pairings: Xavier x Reader Warnings: Horror Games Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

Technically speaking, this had all been your idea. You had seen a new horror game that had just come out and were itching to play it. The only issue was the fact that you tended to clam up while playing scary games, so you opted to simply watch.

Which ended up with you here, sitting on the couch with Xavier. Your legs were touching under the blanket as you leaned into him, watching the screen with interest.

He had a casual expression on his face, clearly enjoying playing the game as his fingers fiddled with the controls. He was doing well despite it not being a combat-based game, and he was quick to figure out a few of the puzzles.

Your issue was his bravery. He never hesitated to do anything in this game. This meant it was going by faster than you expected, and the deeper he got into the game, the worse it got. Your heart already felt like it was going to pound out of your chest as you jumped slightly at some of the background ambiance in the game. Your hand bunched up his white hoodie, and he looked over at you for a moment.

"Are you still doing okay?" he asked, noticing how terrified you looked. He was just about to go through one of the doors of the game, and you were now squirming.

"Can you not open that door?" you finally said, your words coming out hurriedly as you stared at the screen. This was one of those horror games where the protagonist opened the door at an agonizingly slow pace, basically peering into the void for a second before fully opening it.

"You mean the door I need to open in order to progress the story?" he asked with a slight chuckle. He had obviously noticed how high-strung you had gotten during the game. It was hard to hide the way you flinched or almost whimpered whenever something scary happened on the screen.

"Ya, I feel like something scary is on the other side of it." You confessed, your eyes still locked on the screen. Xavier gently placed the controller down on his lap.

"Is our brave hunter scared of a few pixels on the screen?" He asked, his tone now teasing. Seeing how the controller was no longer in his hand gave you the confidence to look at him, a small cowl on your face.

"It's not my fault this game is terrifying." You huffed, crossing your arms. You guessed it did come with the territory of being a horror game, but still. You hadn't expected him to breeze through it and get to every single scary quick time event the game had to offer in the three hours he had been playing it.

Xavier chuckled, going to cup your cheek and tug on it, "It's alright, I promise, I'll protect you if anything decides to leave the TV and get to you." The thought had you whining at the mental image it provided. The terrifying monster crawled out of the TV, head twisted at an awkward angle as his crab walked over to you, the bones creaking...god, now you were freaking yourself out.

"Xavie, I want to be able to sleep tonight, you know." You complained, knowing he was doing this on purpose. He would often try to scare you just to see your reactions. How horror never really seemed to bother him was beyond your comprehension.

"That's fine; you can just sleep in my bed tonight. I can protect you better if you're in my arms." He said, and you blushed slightly. It wasn't like it was uncommon to share a bed with him; you two were dating for a while.

"I dunno; it might take more than that to make me comfortable enough to sleep." You murmured.

Xavier hummed as he thought, "Then how about...after we finish for the night, we get some warm milk, watch some cat videos on your phone, and then I'll read you a story in bed to help you fall asleep better?"

His offer was a good one, and it had you smiling, "Alright, deal...on one condition." You held out a single finger, and Xavier smiled, waiting for you to finish your thought, "Tomorrow morning, you wake up early enough to go to that diner across the street so I can get a greasy breakfast sandwich."

"You mean so we can get greasy breakfast sandwiches?" He corrected you, and now you were giggling.

"Ya, so we can do that together. Do we have a deal?"

"You drive a hard bargain," He began, then held out his hand to shake yours, "But I accept as long as you don't wake me up before the sun rises."

"Like I'd be awake by then anyway," You shook his hand, his grip tight on you as he dragged you into his embrace. He was now pulling you closer onto his lap, settling you between his legs. His arms wrapped around your waist as he clicked on the controller to resume the game.

"Alright, but first, we have to go through this door."

"W-wait, Xavier, no," And just as you predicted, there was something scary on the other side, and sadly, Xavier learned the hard way not to rest his chin on the head of someone who jumped when scared. Thankfully for him, he healed fast. Sadly for you...well, at least he kissed the top of your head.

[sunnydust2003]

Vent:

It's official

I'm scared of her rn because since i deleted my DA account, she won't leave me alone.

She's still stalk and harassing me despissd facts, i left this god awful website.

She's calls me like a pedo, zoophilia, child murder and etc with no proof and took out of context.

Like explame this as possible i am:

1. Pedo stuff:

The reason why she's call me a pedo because i favourite parody of Cuties which was make funny of pedo which i favourite because i like people make fun of this type people who deserve that from piece of shit but i regrett favourite this art.

And one thing, i hate Cuties because you know why.

I'm glad it's got remove from good.

2. Zoophilia:

She's calls me a Zoophilia just because i comment of one my friends art of "Oh No, He's so Hot" gif of Squidward from picture of Donald being muscular (it's not fetish art btw) and she's believe i have crush on Donald which i don't have actually crush on Donald Duck.

Do i like Donald Duck, yes but do you have crush on Donald.

The answer is fuck no.

Donald isn't my fictional crush.

3. Shipping Ren and Stimpy.

She's believe i ship Ren and Stimpy just because of i comment one of person which i ask person where she's start ship Ren and Stimpy because i like heard when they start liles ship or anything.

Beside i don't ship Ren and Stimpy because i see them as friends and nothing else more.

4. She's hates when someone favorite artwork just because they don't like.

She's blame me of i favourite Spongebob x Vocaloid: Lust because she doesn't like song which okay fine but why you blame me from this.

Oh yeah because he's was prevent to female or some shit which btw i never actually listen to Lust or anything because i'm not interest on song.

Only i favourite because artwork was amazing and that's why favourite art in first place.

5. She's blame me over i ship something.

She's blame me over i made status about i cringe myself when i used ship Elsa and Selena Gomez just because i thought it's was adorable.

Keep mind, i was minor back the day, i didn't have brain development until i get olded and realized:

What the fuck is wrong with me.

Idk what's wrong with my younger self when ship this two.

I'm glad i stop ship this two because it's was weird af.

6. She's calls me a child murder.

Yup she's calls me a child murder because of i was hyper about FNAF movie and says i'm only watch movie because i want see kids get killed which wtf are you talk about?!

I'm not watch movie because kids get killed, i'm watch this movie because of how adoption of game it's was.

And i'm glad they didn't show kids get killed in movie because last time i have experince with kids get killed is was hard to watch.

7. She's rant about how i so called treat my friends shit.

Now yes, this was true i was asshole about my friends about whole of "Freddy hates his friends" but i was only mad at this because my friends is remind me of toxic cartoon community and i don't want my friends become one of them but since i watch AOSTH and Scratch, Grounxed and Coconuts are become my new favorite characters, i realized i was asshole towards my friends and i apologie to him from real this time and he's accept this apologie.

This now, we talks about Freddy fight Peck or other his interest, hell i even give him a idea and drawing based of i comment on this because i want make him a happy and i love make friends a happy.

But what really pissed me off is she's lying about me so called sent my whiteknight to my friends which it's was bullshit because i don't even have whiteknight and don't want harassing my friends over this.

I may was asshole but at least i apologie about my action and i want improve myself.

She's just lying herself with no proof of this.

8. Finally she's get trigged over i made one meme of Lincoln get kick out which was meant be make fun of toxic TLH fanbase of how overprotective Lincoln when Lincoln is no better.

Now if you see Such No Luck, i made meme this because i want pissed TLH fans off because how over sentisive about this when Lincoln is no better because he's was lying about he's got bad luck just want have free time when he's could tells his family honest.

Before you say, no i'm not defense Lynn Jr and facts, both of them are unlikable.

So yeah.

9. She's blame me over the facts, voice actor of Abby (Back at the Barnyard) is anti vaxxer and she's say i should proud of her because she's so called cares her children which i have question:

If she's so called cares her child, she shouldn't realized maybe i should protect my kids from infection but nope, she doesn't give a fuck about her children and forced on people who tells to wear mask is canceled culture which prove me a point, she doesn't care from children.

And i want talks about her double stands ass because i like how she's called me a pedo when she's also defense Rev Says Desu who is lolicon and she's defense him by saying:

"Oh he's not going after a real kids, they are just fictional characters" which is gross af.

And thing is she favourite of My Melody and Kuromi from Sanrio x Yu-Gi-Oh pillow sexual which remind me of:

"My Melody and Kuromi are underage" which is red flags because how she support this type shit.

So remember i tell you about she's thinks calling me a child murder just because i was hyper about FNAF movie.

About that, she's also double stands because she's calling me a child murder over FNAF movie but yet, she's have favourite FNAF on her DA.

Hey are you same person telling me about i'm so called support child murder just because of one movie but yet, you favourite FNAF despised facts, you just said to me i support child murder but i guess, she's become stupid af and acting like she's a innocent person.

Yeah fuck this bullshit.

So yeah, i'm done with this shit.

It's time to move on from good.

So yeah, if you reading this:

Please leave me the fuck alone, i don't want have deal with you or anything.

I just want get free from stalker and harassing i got from you.

So please leave the internet and get some seriously help.

[dilf-docs]

Hello! I love what you write it’s amazing! ✨

Can I request an Eddie Brock one where the reader is her neighbor and they are pretty close and she’s in love with him but he’s still obsessed with Anne, and one day she sees him really sad (about Anne) and invites him to see her band and she starts playing (The one- The Warning) and idk something interesting happens:0

Take A Chance On Me

eddie brock x younger fem!reader

summary: being in a relationship with eddie is a bliss! except for when he mourns his ex relationship with anne, which unfortunately, seems to be pretty much all the time. in the middle of all that sulking, you come up with an idea. will you be able to make him choose you this time?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, situationship lol, so angst!!, sunshine!reader x grumpy!eddie (he's still mopping around), hurt/comfort, exhibition kink, fingering, oral (f. receiving), p. in v., riding, creampie, you can tell i've been listening to ABBA ijbol, no venom :(

word count: 4,394 words

side note: hi, tysm for requesting! since this request is very specific lol but has similar themes to my previous eddie work i decided to make it as a follow-up in the neighbours au; not a series yet but it was an interesting idea to add to their dynamic!!! hope you like it <3 in case you wanna read the previous part for context as to where this two are it's here

Ever since that night, your relationship with Eddie has grown. Hell, you may say you're a day away from being official any time.

And there are time's when you're so sure of it, like when he stops by your apartment and kisses you like there's no one else in the world; to later make you come hard with the lights off (hey! you gotta start a tradition or two).

But there are other times when you knock on his door and he doesn't open, only for you to use your spare key, finding the room scented with empty bottles, your neighbor mumbling something like Anne through his sad pouty lips.

Yes, Anne. A name that makes you seethe like it burns; a ghost that haunts the spaces of silence where Eddie seems to doubt what the hell is he doing: why is he there―with you.

Your heart feels heavy, and it feels sort of pathetic that it's his hurting what hurts you the most. In the end, things are like this: you love helping people, your empathy may be infinite and you're sure you've never loved anyone like you love Eddie Brock before.

So it's this combination of things that makes you take the following decision, hoping to make him pass the page, so whenever he gets drunk again, all his lips will ever whisper is your name over and over again; that his sadness belongs to him, and not the only person that seems to be keeping you away from your happy ending, even if they don't know about it.

To Eddie, you're the sweetest thing in the world. Nobody kisses like you do, hugs with the tightness you do, loves as much as you do, fucks as good as you do or bakes killer cookies like yours.

That list does nothing but grow, as he is constantly mesmerized by every new little thing he learns about you: your favorite movies, the new recipes you try (he's more than happy to beta taste them for you), the way you sing (you do have a good voice that made him squirm at the other secret talent you had) and your kindness, which has done more hurt than good lately: because Eddie can't fathom the idea of you, taking care of him during his sad drunken mopping nights, while listening to everything about Anne on repeat.

He knows it hurts you, that he's starting to create creaks in your relationship, the hope slowly fading away from your eyes each passing day, doubts creeping up your smile, erasing that shiny beautiful light of yours; it's the only thing stopping him from calling you his girlfriend, and still, he can't stop.

It's like a vice at this point, and he wonders if he'll ever sober out of it.

So today he knocks on your door, hoping to set things straight even if a part of his heart still beats for Anne. It may be selfish, but after you came in his life, he can't imagine it without you.

But when you open up, he's at loss for words.

"Why are you wearing that?"

You scoff. "Hope it's not an offense, judging by your tone"

His eyes roam over your body, and even if you tend to be more on the confident side, you can't help but feel shy. After all, he's never seen you like this before: all glam.

It's a jacket, well his jacket, a small black top and black very short shorts. You surely are playing the part tonight, switching your usual pink and sunflower bubbly style to something more... rock.

"Why?" is all he asks, and you feel obligued to answer. Besides, you were going to knock on his door after getting out, not expecting he did it first. The surprise is ruined, but his incredulous eyes suffice for now.

"So, my friend has this band" you explain, "and they just got sick. The thing is, they had a gig today in a bar where they're regulars, so naturally, cancelling at last minute is not an option"

"And?" you love how oblivious he can be sometimes.

"And, I found a replacement" his face remains blank, so you sigh a little dissapointed but deliver with chirp, "me!"

"You?"

You roll your eyes, "is there a problem?"

"No!" he corrects hastily, "I'm just surprised, that's all. I know you like to sing, and have a good voice! But there's a huge gap between that and well, playing in a gig"

"I know, but I used to have a band when I was in highschool; I'm used to this things"

His mouth falls a bit, and maybe his head starts to cloud with ideas of your clashing new style and angel like voice; or maybe it's you wearing his jacket, a garment of his for you to bear in public: a first. It's a bit stupid and too daydream-ish for his liking, so he blurts:

"I didn't know that"

Your laugh is so light, it feels like wind blowing across a field.

"Oh, Eddie baby" he blushes at the pet name and endearing tone, your voice dropping like it does whenever you want something he's more than willing to give you, "there's a lot you don't know about me"

In the end, you convinced Eddie to join you, who, if you're being honest, didn't need that much convincing.

He was sold just with the idea of seeing you sing, which intrigued him. There's a huge difference in your drunk karaoke nights that annoyed your neighbors and playing live in a gig. Eddie wants to see what you have to offer, and as for you? Well, this is your plan: your plan to make him forget about Anne once and for all.

It may be silly and immature but hey, you're young! It's okay to be wrong and possessive sometimes, and your friend just did you the favor of faking an illness to give you a spot to shine and put that voice of yours to use, that's a bit rusty since your highschool days. So, no pressure! Your potential boyfriend is on the crowd and ruining this would cost your kind friend their job. Good thing your optimism doesn't seem to expire, because Lord! Your hands are trembling and sweaty when you hold a microphone again for the first time in a little more than a decade.

"Hey" you exit out of the curtain, and the dim lights now bright up a little, directing themselves towards you, "good evening"

You hear a bit of muffled voices that sound confused, asking for your friend, and you can tell the crowd are regulars. Yikes.

"I'm here on behalf of Isha. They're sick, so I'm covering just for tonight" you decide to go for a little jokey joke to light up the otherwise judgemental room, that seems to be testing you―like they know all your weak spots; smell your nerves. "So don't like me too much, as I'm a one time thing"

Eddie laughs, but covers it with a cough when he realizes the room is awfully quiet.

"Okay, uh, for tonight's set, I've got a few things prepared" you fumble a bit with the papers where the lyrics are (you've always liked to be a bit old fashioned), like you're clumsy and it's your first time, not reflecting the fact that this idea has been simmering for a while―every song rehearsed and planned. "Songs, I mean, I've got a few songs prepared"

You start with something smooth, which makes people divert their attention back to whatever they were doing. To you, that's a bit dissapointing, but as long as they don't judge and Eddie keeps his eyes on you, you think you can make it.

But what where you really thinking? Being optimistic means you're often let down, as your pink bright ideas end up crushed by the real gray world. And you can handle it―as you're no weak, but resorting to singing a song that feels oddly specific about the situationship you're currently living in hopes of making Eddie forget his ex fiancée and get whooped by your mesmerizing voice is actually kind of crazy!

But yeah, now you're nearing the end of the set list and almost everyone's eyes are on you. Of course, Eddie is the most attentive, taking every word that pours out of your melodic mouth like if he's thirsty, and your voice is the only thing that can help him. He never leaves your silhouette, and it may be you dreaming, but there's something like guilt and love behind his eyes; torn. Yeah, you do feel like you're dreaming, and it's been so long since you felt this alive; you kind of forgot how happy singing made you.

As the crowd is engaged, you find it fitting to make a pause and announce the next song. You know your voice comes out as shaky, but hope people think it's about tiredness and not nerves. Why are you nervous, thought? People love you! It's because this is the final part of your plan: singing this song you used to be obssesed long ago, but now seems to perfectly sum up those raw, angry and vulnerable feelings fo yours you're simply not used to; they say music helps us put a name to that we can't, and that has never been more true.

"For the next song, well, our last song" a few booing echos in the crowd, and you can't believe you made it this far. Maybe Isha did lost their job, "it's called The One, by The Warning. Hope you enjoy"

Eddie's had such a blast tonight, he hasn't noticed the past of time, completely lost when you announce the last song. Among other things he's forgotten, is the fact he was supposed to talk today with you about the future of your relationship.

It's kind of your fault: how can he remain focused with such display in front of him?

The band begins playing, and soon, your voice fills the air:

I'll do anything to make it happen

Tell me your secrets, what are you hiding?

Some people sing along the lyrics, while others just listen attentively. You make it to a part of the song that sounds like:

Can you explain to me what's this feeling?Love it or hate it, it's never leaving. Want to believe, that you feel it too.

Oh, Eddie feels nauseous. The lyrics hit a bit too close to home, and he fills called out in the room of oblivious people.

He can hear your vocals breaking a bit, as raw as he's never heard before. He feels so bad, he's about to make the most ridiculous thing of his life and jump onto the stage to hug you, but he can't interrupt you. So he sits there, palms sweaty and nerves tense.

He's been dumb, but like, really dumb. Of course you know it: how can you not? He swears every morning after, his hangover unbearable, your kindness hurts more than his headache―because there's pain behind your eyes, and he knows you remember more what happened than he did. He feels undeserving of your compassion and all the care you give him, even if you know Eddie's still hung up on Anne.

There is no reason to even doubt it. Please, understand that I am not lying. My heart is true, it beats for you.

How can you still love him? Still root for him? How can you give him your heart knowing a part of his still beats for Anne?

Fantasizing that something might happen, always wishing that I was the one.

He feels torn, because he knows it's you he wants to be with. You're the reason his days have been brighter ever since he lost everything, the reason he smiles whenever his door knocks and why he isn't alone in this sulking anymore. So he hates the fact that he can't heal faster and move on, because that's all that's really stopping him from just being him and you.

Give me something I can feel, I'm too afraid to ask. What is it I need to change, for you to love me back?

He's done mourning but he knows grief doesn't pass in the blink of an eye. But he's sure of it already.

Say that you will really never hurt or leave me. Say it and it will come true. Hold me like you really love me: tell me that you do.

Those three words he's been holding back: afraid of feeling too much in such little time; afraid of thinking he would ever feel his heart beat for anyone else, the confession dripping from his eyes but not past through his sealed mouth.

And I know that I'm not the one on your mind. But still, I will be the one.

The song ends before he's registered, and amid the applauses, you leave the stage, almost running behind the courtain. The band bids goodbye and Eddie finds himself leaving his table and moving onto where the small improvised dressing room is.

He's done pondering. You will be the one.

You didn't plan to rush backstage like that, but tears started to burn in your eyes and it was getting harder to contain them infront of the crowd.

They loved your show, but you feel empty, even if a little relieved. There was a pressure before and now it's gone, but there's a thing that hasn't gone: the doubt.

You wonder if Eddie understood the words you feel like a coward for not voicing, the feelings that threaten to spill like a hot cauldron, the rage burning your throat when he talks about her, like she's all there is in his mind. Then comes the sadness; you can't help but wonder if he will ever choose you.

Tonight, perhaps, is the day all those what-if's will be answered, and their possible answers won't hunt you anymore.

It's like he read your mind, because there's a knock in your door and it's like you have memorized a bit too much of Eddie: the traces of his face―with wrinkles that mark the gaps in your relationship, the loud way in which he eats, the sounds he makes when he rides his bike, especially those when you wrap your arms around his; even the way his knuckles call for you through the door.

You clear your throat, trying to hide your broken voice. "Come in"

Eddie's face pops up, and all you can offer him is a weak smile. "Did you like the show?"

He tries to measure what he's about to say, because he doesn't know where to start, but the glow in his eyes betrays him, so he excitedly says: "It was great! I didn't know you had that in you, baby"

Even the pet name doesn't make the smile reach your eyes. Oh, he's screwed up for sure.

"Thanks" you mutter, small. You hate feeling like this: the last time you did, you were still in middle school. Your kindness was taken for weakness, and you promised yourself you would never let your heart be taken and used again. Yet here you are, hope planting a seed inside of you that's grown into a rose with thorns that pierce your sweet heart whenever it beats for Eddie. But you can't stop: the roots are too deep in you, and you can't find yourself to kill the flower that's bloomed out of this one-sided love.

"Listen, y/n" oh, he's serious. No petname or nothing. Maybe he's finally opened his eyes and realise this fooling-around-thing you've got going on isn't going nowhere; that your new isn't as exciting as it was before, and his heart will never be yours. You'll never be the one.

"Y-yes?" you can't fake it. Your voice cracks, so you avoid looking at him, "tell me, Eddie".

He shouldn't start with that, seeing the way your face fell and body shakes, even though you're sitting.

"Fuck. Baby, no" he coos, getting closer and dropping on his knees, forcing you to look at him by taking your face softly by the chin, "look at me".

When you meet his eyes and they're already glossy, he feels like he deserves a higher punishment than what any physical one could ever accomplish.

"No, no. Shit, I'm sorry" he tries wiping your tears with his thumb, but you keep on crying more. "Ah, fuck"

"Are you done with me?" you ask on a shaky whisper.

Funny saying that when you weren't even a thing. But you can't help and yearn for it; said what first came onto your mind.

"No!" he corrects, so quick and loud it startles you. "What made you think that?"

"The song-" you start blabbering, "No, I'm sorry Eddie, it's my fault. I shouldn't put on a show that's m-more like a tantrum if we're being honest. We're adults and we can talk, for God's sake! That was so immature of me. Let's just forget this and- I don't even know what to do or what to say, just, spare me from walking out or taking the elevator at the same time I do because it's just gonna be so embarrasing- please, if you're gonna break up with me, do it quick-"

He didn't want to, but he feels the need to interrupt your little rant by now.

"Y/n, stop" you feel even more embarrased now. You start to drift a little and begin considering to move out of the country and change your name. "Who said anything about breaking up?"

Ah, you feel stupid. Stupid, but hey! How can you not come to that conclusion? It's both of yours fault.

"Y-you didn't" you whisper, "but-" you try to reason yet the anger and embarrasment is a bit too much.

"I didn't yet I can understand why you'd feel that way" he sighs, "but let me explain, please"

With a nod, you motion him to continue.

"I'm the only one who should be saying sorry. You did nothing wrong, baby; in fact, your little solution to talk out your feelings surprised me a lot. In a good way! You know I love your voice. But anyways, as I was saying, I'm sorry about everything. It's just... it's not fair to you: you've been nothing but sweet, loving and the best girl I've met ever. I feel like I don't deserve you, and after tonight, if you choose not to stay with me, I'll get it. You're worth of much more than a sad, older and bitter nobody" he ends his sad little man speech, and you can't help it but leave your sit and wrap your arms around him, burying your face on his shoulder as you whisper lovingly on his ear:

"I know, Eddie" you stroke his hair gently, "but I'm not leaving you. Never"

He lets himself sink into your embrace, the perfume and sweat such an intoxicating smell, he's drowning in your scent already.

"Good" his voice turns husky, dropping an octave. The hard on his jeans doesn't go unnoticed, "because I wanted to give my rockstar a reward"

You laugh, and he feels better seeing you smile.

"Seriously, Eddie? How can you go from vulnerable to horny?"

"Both are states of vulnerable!" he defends, "besides, tell me that you don't want it" he motions for you to stand against the dresser, your back against the mirror, goosebumps in your skin when it touches the cool surface.

Eddie grips the flesh of exposed skin your shorts show, leaving a trail of kisses against the bare tights. He pulls them off, and you gasp out a contained moan.

"Someone c-could find us, Eddie"

He growls, his head in between your legs, the panties blocking him from your pulsating cunt. "Let them" he pronounces it so deliciously, you find it hard to resist the panic of being found; Isha will kill you if they found out, but hey, the plan was to get back with Eddie so in the end, it worked, right? Can't get mad at that.

The panties come off with a yank, and you can barely ask if he locked the door before his tongue gives the exposed dripping folds a generous lick. You arch your back at the pleasure that runs through you.

"Mpmh, Eddie" you groan, feeling his slow but steady movements. Your breathe comes out ragged, more when he uses his thumb to caresses the sensible zone with fast circles, making you cum with a cry, yet it muffles inside his mouth that captures your lips in a kiss.

You can taste yourself in his lips, but let him devour your mouth.

"Want more?" Eddie groans against your mouth, his fingers going inside you, softly touching the entrance. You moan against his lips, moving your hips greedily in response.

"Yes" you moan out, making him chuckle.

"Seems I'm not the only horny one here, baby" he mocks, "are you that needy?"

You huff out, annoyed at the accusation.

"Don't worry, you and I both know we love to help each other out" his voice is soft, "besides, it's been a stressful day for us, hasn't it. Let me make you feel better, baby"

His hand travels inside you, his middle and forefinger sliding lazily into you. You tense up, feeling him touch your clit, his fingertips stroking over sensitive tissues. He can see the mirror fogging, and if he didn't have his head in between your legs, he'd probably see his face full of your juices.

"Shit" his voice comes out of his chest, sounding rather gutural and animalistic. "God, how wet you feel, baby"

You mewl. But it's not enough, his fingers falling short: you need to feel all of him. Now.

"Eddie" you beg in need, "please".

"Please what?"

Your hands travel to his pants, undoing his jeans. His large palm stops you before you can reach his underwear.

"Say your words, baby" he taunts, and you hate the way your neediness leaks from in between your tights.

"Just... I need you, Eddie"

He gets rid of the jeans by himself, and you stroke his member covered by the fabric. You get rid of it too, and the next thing is your mouth saying: "I want to ride you"

Even in his haze, he reacts a bit, looking around the room.

"There" you point the chair you were sitting previously on.

He sits down, obeying without a word. You come close, gripping his member firmly in your hand. You pump from the bottom to the top, making him roll his eyes and throw his body back from the pleasure.

His eyes go blank as you sit over his dick, already leaking with pre-cum. Eddie grabs you by the hips, the veins on his arms more notorious, some tattoos popping up like they are 3D.

"You're beautiful" he mutters, and you feel like giving him a reward: so you grab his dick with your hand as his grip gets tighter.

He presses his tip against your fold, side to side, like if he was painting your tight walls with his juices.

He pushes the first centimeter inside, and as soon as you stretch out for him, he starts thrusting, getting a whimper out of you.

"Fuck" he curses, deep inside you. His body shakes, and you feel every single vibration provoked by the friction. You feel dizzy as you go up and down, the rhythm delicious. He keeps moving, his hips doing a circle, all to feel more of you.

"You feel so good, baby" he praises, in ecstasy. You keep moving up and down, covering his long. You bite back a moan, "might end up helping me more than I was going to help you"

He's fucking you silly, and your mind goes blank, so after the thrusts and his confession from before, you dizzy out:

"Everything is for you, Eddie; just for you. You're the only one who can make me feel like this"

"How does it feel?" he asks in a whisper against your ear, his thrusting getting sloppier.

"Feels so good"

"As good as you feel" he moans out, his breathe whistling through his gritted teeth. Your ads bounces against his tights, the sound of skin clapping in the tiny room a very obscene echo. "C'mon, baby. Make me cum"

You tighten with the plea: tights, stomach and ass. Your core is swollen, burning with each new thrust. Eddie keeps you tight as profound as his strong arms can; there'll be a bruise tomorrow.

He pushes all his length inside, keeping you open so he can bury himself deep in you, with strong thrusts against your shaky cunt. His jawline tenses, painfully close to his orgasm.

Your voice comes out muffled, "Harder".

It's funny how no one has even checked the room. No knock, nothing. You suppose they all went out their way when they saw you about to burst in tears, to give you space, a space you're pretty thankful for now.

"You're mine" he rests his forehead against yours, "say it"

His hips shake as you pronounce, "only yours, Eddie"

You can't contain it any longer. There's relief after the intense orgasm that shakes every bone in your body, overestimulation when you feel him cum inside of you, thick shots painting your swollen walls.

You let yourself fall into his arms, the chair creaking with all the weight. Sweat glistens as you try to get your breathe back, your heart beating so fast you fear you'll have a heart attack.

"Tell you a secret?" you hum tiredly against his shoulder, resting your head in it as his long thick fingers comb through your damp hair. You can't believe your plan made it this far, but since you're still in the haze, you can only nod and hum.

He gets closer to you, his hot breathe tickling your ear.

"You're the one, y/n" your heart beats even faster, and you hide your face against his hot skin so he doesn't see the new tears that are forming in your eyes: they're happy tears. "I love you"

Is this is a signal to sing and not voice out your problems? Who knows, maybe next time, if you sing Money Money Money by ABBA, you won't be so broke.

[madschiavelique]

Hi! So, modding has ruined me and as such I’d like to request the Origin Companions with a Lich Tav / S/O? Like, they did the whole process a while ago and only now with the Tadpole Sitch have they returned from death and have no idea what they’re doing and are far weaker than they expected. Maybe they show the companion a sign of “I love and trust you” by allowing them to (gently) hold their phylactery? Idk, fill how you see fit if you want :]

hi anon!! sorry it took so long but i wanted to make a bit of research for it to be accurate. i hope you'll like it!!

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ characters : shadowheart, astarion, gale, lae'zel, wyll, karlach

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ content warning : a bit of angst, but some comfort

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ words : 1.4k (250~ per characters)

( not proofread, english is not my first language ☆)

─ ‧ shadowheart :

at a first glance, you amazed her as much as terrified her. but it was mostly a terrified respect. because being a lich, aka an undead sorcerer who seeks to transcend death itself is in clear opposition to the cycle of life and death, which is a central theme of most faiths including Shar’s.

she swore you must have followed Shar herself though as, per her words, “the darkness that precedes you would make a fierce soldier in her eyes.”

chances are that Shadowheart will have to put some parts of her faith in question for you, but on the other hand she could simply see your powers as a sort of extension of Shar’s influence.

as time goes by however, she realises a lot of prejudices held against lichs such as being cold and goal driven can be wrong, especially when it comes about you.

she’d be very much interested in hearing you talk about the process of becoming a lich. she admires your patience and devotion so much, a person as old and wise as you has seen more than she ever will and she craves to know more about your life, before becoming a lich and during it.

if you ever allowed her to hold your phylactery, she would never doubt your sincerity ever again. she knows how much this act means for her, for you, for your relationship, and she would not forget it nor lower it for anything in Faerun.

─ ‧ astarion :

when astarion learns about you being a lich at the very beginning of your adventure, it is certain that you and him would bicker about your age.

“how old are you? i didn’t know mummies could have such deplorable fashion styles, but how could it be otherwise considering you’re older than most of Gale’s books“ he said, to which you’d answer “it pains me that i have lived long enough to see idiots like you being born.”

it’s really just a game of bickering at the beginning, especially when you underlined that most liches are more powerful than vampires.

this however brought a spark to him, because if you were indeed more powerful than most vampires, then you would be of great utility in helping him go against his master.

over time of you gaining back your powers and abilities, he found something absolutely breathtaking in your darkness, your devotion, your ambition to outlive anything in your path.

he would see an opportunity to live in eternity by your sides. all other mortals perish eventually, and the knowledge of having you by his sides for all eternity makes him impossibly happy.

you offering him to hold your phylactery would mean the world to him, because he knew that if he had such a thing, he would have gave it to you. it’s an incomparable proof of your trust for him, no one had ever allowed him such an honour and you can be sure he will value it greatly.

─ ‧ gale :

this man is a scholar, and it would be lying to say that apart from being frightened and pretty much offended that you are here, he is extremely curious. 

he obviously has a deep fascination of magic, particularly the forbidden type, and you are a literal gift from the skies to be in his path.

ethical boundaries aside, i don’t think he will be able to shut up. 

you will be bombarded by all types of questions about the whole entire process of becoming a lich, from your years to learning about the Arcane arts to the gathering the rare and powerful components needed for the creation of your phylactery. 

He will not let you rest, he needs answers he’s been pondering on for so long and you’re here with all the answers.

This however raises for him the question of morality and mortality, unless he takes the path of moving from Evocation to Necromancy, in which case one could say he found the perfect pair.

Having gale as your s/o while being a lich is something you didn’t expect, in the sense that being with gale made you feel understood and seen.

If you allow gale to touch your phylactery, he would jump to the ceiling. He would hold it gently and ask about each and every part of it, asking how you got the components, how you assembled it all and how it felt once you had completed the entire process. But most of all, he is extremely aware of what it means and how much of a token of trust and respect it is for you to allow him to handle such a precious object.

─ ‧ lae'zel :

Lae’zel’s first approach would most definitely be one of suspicion. Githyankis and their traditions consider others as weak or unnatural, especially those who use necromancy. Chances are her first thoughts about you gravitate around repulsion, since you alone represent a source of power that is so dishonorable.

She would take quite the time to let herself trust you. There is one thing she cannot deny about you that changes during your adventure : you’re powerful, very powerful. When you start gaining back some of your powers and offer proper almost overwhelming force of will, you’ve owned lae’zel’s respect (no matter of grudgingly she acknowledges you as a worthy potential partner). 

Plus, your immortality is an asset in battle that cannot be circumvented.

In the end, your strong senses of battle and unrelenting determination won her.

When you allowed her to handle your phylactery, she was confused as to what such an artefact was. But when you explained to her that your very remains of life and mortality were in that very object, her heart leaped in her chest. For you to offer your life and allow her to have it in her own hands proved to her that you were more trustworthy than any other allies and lovers.

─ ‧ wyll :

His original reaction to your situation would be disbelief. He’d only ever heard of Lichs in storybooks or tails one would mysteriously count in a tavern. But a real one, in the flesh ? that was a first for him.

The concept of necromancy alone is not one Wyll appreciates much. It defies moralities and mortality to bring back from the dead. He’s worked hard to defeat enemies in the past that used such methods to build armies and soulless soldiers, and he is frightened of having feelings for you when these questions pull to the front of his mind.

But his sense of forgiveness would take over. Along the road to Baldur’s Gate, during your many adventures, he saw how your dedication to getting the team out of a deadly situation was pure and true.

It’s hard for him to deconstruct so many beliefs he’s had on necromancy and lichs in general, but he’s willing to do it for you. He does fear that it will be an imbalance relationship, but he wants to try.

But this thought vanishes from his mind when you allow him to touch your phylactery. He’s heard of such artefacts, of what they hold within, and it undoubtedly makes his heart stammer. He’ll never ever doubt of your love for him, that is for certain.

─ ‧ karlach :

Karlach’s first impression of her s/o being a Lich would not be positive, since being a lich represents the concept of immortality at the cost of the soul, and it could be something she finds repulsive.

Because you had the choice to abandon your mortality, your life, and you took it while she never had a choice on her own mortality.

But when you started travelling together, fighting together, living together, she didn’t find you so bad after all. It felt like you were just one of them, just a person with ambitions and goals.

She realised the lengths at which you were ready to go for your companions, and it owned her trust and admiration.

And when you kept finding infernal iron and stopped anything you were all doing just to go see Dammon as soon as you could to get her heart fixed, she knew she could trust you and appreciate you.

She has her own fears of being with you though, the fatality of her own heart failing her in opposition to your eternity frightened her beyond belief. What will happen if she dies and you go on without her ? She is very much tormented about this question.

But she loves you, and she knows you love her.

When you allow her to touch your phylactery, she would crumble in tears as if you’re offering her a wedding ring. If she could take out her mechanical heart from her chest and give it to you without dying the same way you give her the last piece of life you own in this world, she would.

[patchwork-crow-writes]

Oh boy that looks painful... but wow, this is really well done! The flowers are beautiful... putting aside the fact that they're blooming straight out of our favourite fluffy one's head, I mean :p

If I might be self-indulgent a moment: to me this speaks to the idea that Ralsei is constantly being compared to Flowey, to the point where that comparison threatens to overshadow and subsume him completely. In Ralsei I see a being who is attempting to define himself as his own entity, but who is constantly having other identities foisted upon him - as a mirror counterpart to Asriel/Flowey from Undertale, as an aspect of Kris's own psyche, as an arbiter of a prophecy that seemed to just pop into his head, and even as a twist villain in some circles.

And I think there's something very interesting going on with the supplementary materials linking Ralsei to flowers, and the fact that his horns are red just like the horned headband that Kris used to wear, and everything else... because we talk about Kris's struggles to define themselves against the players, to be acknowledged as more than just a blank-slate self-insert silent protagonist, but in the same breath we are more than happy to dismiss Ralsei as something he may very well not wish to be defined as. In both cases, Deltarune drops hints at Kris's true personality and Ralsei's desire to know more about his own intrinsic self, but only the former are acknowledged while the latter are overshadowed by, dare I say it, what the fandom wishes him to be, rather than what HE wishes he were.

With Kris it is so much simpler, as we can discover more about how they were as a child from the residents of Hometown, and we are directly confronted with the fact that while we may control them for the majority of the game, they have their own will that does not necessarily align with ours. But with Ralsei... there's hardly anything to go off of, and so we fill in the gaps with the materials we have to hand... materials which just so happen to nudge us towards associating him as a lesser aspect of another character, whether that is Asriel or Kris, or Gaster, or even the Titans/Roaring. I believe that Toby has deliberately chosen to do this.

And I think that's what Deltarune is trying to say to us, with all its similarities to Undertale, its deliberate allusions and subversions: can you treat a game, a character, as its own standalone thing with its own standalone identity, no matter how strongly they might resemble their predecessors? I believe that in a future chapter, we will be tested on this in some way... forced to make a choice that might determine how Ralsei sees himself. And given how we talk about him right now, it's a test that we may just fail if we're not aware of it.

Again, amazing art! Apologies for the rangent (rant-tangent), but this really got my brain going XD

Bouquet' Ralsei ... 💐

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Nothing much... I've been wanting to practice arts without lineart, I realized that I really like shading!! I also spent a lot of time drawing the flowers, but I'm happy with the end result!

[courtmartialme]

did u know i have a tip jar where you can send me a motivational push 2 draw things >__o only valid for ideas i'd already draw by myself, like hc or au's i've talked about but never drew, or stuff i've drawn before that you'd like to see more of etc..! if you wanna try your luck at getting me to draw something else you think i'd like to feel free to as well but there's the risk of me adapting it to my tastes until the original prompt is unrecognizable lol my ko-fi !

[crownedwille]

.

[bmpmp3]

yesterday in vocal synth news

[hecksupremechips]

My ass was trying so hard not to jump up and down with glee playing yttd with my sister and getting to the shin reveal I was like MY GUY MY FUNNY LAD MY SILLY RABBIT

[urlocalmagicalcat]

really long rant (happy rant) in the tags, mostly towards @synthetic-lavender /vpos

romance repulsed aros and romance favourable aros are both cool and valid but because i never see anything about us: shoutout to romance indifferent aros. romance neutral aros. aros who just couldn't care less. aros who have a conflicted relationship with romance. aros who are fine with romance in some contexts but not in others. aros who don't mind romance when it's not amatonormativity being shoved down their throats. aros who haven't yet figured out their feelings about romance. aros to whom romance is Just Something That Exists. y'all are rad as hell and it's okay not to 'pick a side'!!

[gimmick-blog-bracket]

Now for the final round!

@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

What's more happy holiday cheer than cheering on the destruction of a giant straw goat?

The birds may have won 2023, but I believe in humanity's capability for arson for 2024 <3

a vote for me is a vote for arson! This message was approved by hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavle is SUCH a public service and holiday feature

what's more tumblr than comical destruction and holidays?

sometimes you just gotta vote with your matchsticks

Bringing a cultural staple to tumblr since 2021

Arson is so much more fun

It would be really funny and ironic if it survives the tournament

you have no idea how much joy watching the chronicling of the gavlebocken brings me every year

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet provides an essential public service

always love seeing a bit of Swedish history on my dash 'Swedish bamboo season'

the goat account is peak gimmick blog

If I don't get to beat the goat then nobody does. -pointless-achievements

Never ask Tumblr to choose between lies and arson! The winner threatens by nature to rip apart the very fabric of our DNA!

goat statues made out of straw are exciting and interesting

I wanna see things burn

the goat is an essential part of tumblr culture and the goat blog is a sacred keeper of the tumblr high holidays

watching to see if the big straw goat has burned down each year is a true delight, something I never knew existed until tumblr and the blog dedicated to it

the incredibly focused nature of @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is what makes their gimmick superior.

Please guys bite gavlebocken

Look, I'm Danish. I was put on this earth to annoy the Swedes and vice versa, but even I voted for @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavlebocken is also such a fun name and this blog informed be about its existence, so for that I am grateful

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is providing a vital service! Every year, people rely on their updates regarding the fate of our most beloved Yule Goat! How could they NOT deserve the win!?

sacred anti-corporate arson

a vote for gävlebocken is a vote for anarchy!

pls vote for them they're the funniest gimmick keeping track on the funniest phenomena in recent human history, like when i look at their acc i think to myself this is what tumblr was created for

the goat is the GOAT

HASGAVLEBOCKENBURNEDDOWNYET DESERVES TO WIN, I have them on post alert for a REASON

the holiday season wouldn't be the same without them

they do important reporting. Do you look at the news and be like 'the reporters aren't doing work they're just telling you whats happening.' Have some respect for the goat news

let the weird burnt sacrificial ritual of it all appeal to you

nothing makes my December more interesting, arson should win

doesn't barge in on other peoples posts which is always a good thing in my books. not a fan when obnoxious gimmick blogs turn a decent post into a garbled mess

[shidoukanae]

also now realizing there's a heavy possibility that the unknown event Daniel references where he asks Lyla "how are you going to find your happiness?" is the same event Helene references when she tells Lyla that Lyla "betrayed" her.

Coincidentally, that's probably the same event that allowed Helene to be manipulated by the Empress into turning against Lyla and might have been the cause of Daniel leaving Lyla (probably to find out how to awaken as a dragon so he could gain the power to take her away from her family faster? maybe even going so far as to try and compete w/ Paris for the throne if it means protecting Lyla?)

There's also a suspicious gap of time from when Helene was poisoned to when she told Lyla to get away from her that has been omitted. And considering baby Lyla cries about Helene not wanting to be with her anymore...and that same baby Lyla is seen hugging Daniel in the unexplored scene...Lyla what the fuck did you do to Helene to embitter her like this?

[velvetures]

Got Me Snoring

A/N: One of my favorite things inspired by all the Ghost/König cosplayer TikToks using that one, song audio. Summary: Ghost admits getting head is boring. Reader isn't happy with that idea and goes about changing his mind. T/W: NS/FW 18+ Only, blowjobs, deepthroating, size kink if you squint, spit?, cursing, aggressive tension?, taunting, not proofread, and it's been a long ass time since I've written full-on smut.

“All I’m sayin’ is that if she calls again, I’m not about to answer.” Soap’s voice carried from the living space of the hotel room to the kitchenette where you stood microwaving some rice from a convenience store down the street.

After-mission talk always leads to the most strange conversations. Maybe the adrenaline or the high of getting almost killed got everyone in a talking mood. However as the Captain slid behind you to go grab more ice outside in the hallway, you couldn’t help but shoot him a questioning look. They’d been talking about their previous accomplishments and failures in the bedroom for nearly twenty minutes, and thankfully they’d not roped you into the ridiculous conversation but with the Captain leaving out of the room, it drew their eyesight right to you standing patiently for your instant rice to finish cooking.

“What about you, huh?” Gaz was the one to poke a little. “Have any horror stories from the bedroom?” His eyebrows raised in mischievous curiosity as all three men sat staring at you with great intent.

“I’ve faked it plenty of times.” You reply offhandedly, waving a hand at them and going back to staring at the small plastic cup rotating around in the microwave.

You overheard the men pass through the moment of silence with low laughs, most noticeably, Ghost. Who’d apparently found something very funny and decided to grace everyone with the sound of deep and resounding chuckles. With a gloved hand, you take out your food and rejoin them in the room, finding a spot on the corner of one of the beds and crossing your legs to hold the bowl while you watch and listen to more of their recounted stories.

Soap complained more about the one night he’d met up with one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met, and drank himself into oblivion to try and ease his nerves. The only problem was, that when he finally had enough liquid courage to make a move, he couldn’t get it up. Even watching him recount the tale now, you could see his embarrassment. You couldn’t imagine just how beautiful that woman had to be for Soap to give himself whiskey-dick so bad that to this day he regretted the memory and undoubtedly wished he could take it back. Gaz got pressured into retelling the story of the woman he met in Russia just for you since you’d never heard it; Detailing just how she’d been absolutely obsessed with him right from the get-go.

She couldn’t stop fawning over his accent and just how downright good-looking he was. Gaz on the other hand felt very embarrassed and never really tried to take things further on that trip. Fortunately for him, on a trip back a few months later for pleasure, he ran into the woman again and this time around she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Soap and Ghost laughed, poking fun at how utterly exhausted Garrick was when he met up with them in London. His shit-eating grin was more than enough for them to surmise that his little Russian vixen had taken him for a hell of a ride.

Then there was Ghost.

He didn’t have much to say in the way of his own successes, but did share one or two small comparisons with the other two as they kept pulling out detail after detail about the many people they’d met over the years and how they either felt they’d left their mark… or totally fucking missed it. All of it came to a very interesting topic that you suddenly became very interested in when Ghost uttered one single statement that left your mouth hanging open and staring at him almost in disbelief.

“I don’t like someone blowin’ my cock,” his voice sounded flat. Totally unbothered and nearly sleeping at the idea. “Never cared much for it when half doesn’t fit.”

You couldn’t help but insert yourself into the conversation after a long hour or so of sitting like a viewer at a movie. “Wait a second… You mean to tell me you don’t like getting head because you're too big?” The gasp in your tone was obvious, and even Soap and Gaz looked at him a little strangely as if they didn’t truly believe the idea either. It gave you a bit more reassurance in your belief that almost all men enjoyed it. Sure, there was the odd chance that Ghost just didn’t like it at all, but you really wanted to hear his explanation if he’d give you one.

The Lieutenant turned to look at you and nodded stiffly. “Yeah, ‘bout always puts me to sleep.”

It was at this point you felt the slightest urge to tell him he’d never had someone give him a legitimately good blowjob before. But before you could even say something to the contrary, a thought crossed your mind. Ghost didn’t seem like the kind of man who attracted ill-experienced women. Especially when he had already proven throughout the evening that his previous encounters were much more interesting and expansive than even that of yourself. Something a bit… jealous rose inside of you at the thought.

Imagining your Lieutenant laying on his back and hardly making any sort of sound while someone pulls out every single trick in their arsenal to make a blowjob somewhat entertaining or arousing. You didn’t necessarily profess yourself to have a crush on Ghost, due to just how grey the line between operators and anything felt when you spent so much time together under high-stress environments. There was bound to be some level of emotional attachment that devolved past… professional. And for whatever it was, knowing that Ghost had such a bad opinion on the receiving end of pleasure became a challenge you wanted to overcome.

About that time, Price returned with half-melted ice and a half-smoked cigar hanging between his lips.

“Finished talking about chasin’ tail yet?” He grumbled, walking past the group of you still sitting around each other like a bunch of kids getting caught staying up late by Dad at a sleepover. “Wanna go to fuckin’ sleep.”

He dropped the ice bucket down on the dresser with a little thud before settling himself down on the pull-out couch with his hat covering his eyes and both arms resting behind his head with that cigar still puffing smoke rings into the air. Ghost was the first to stand up, making his way out of the hotel room without as much as a comment about when he’d be back or where he was going. Your eyes trailed over his shoulders tapering into a slim waist before giving way again to thick and muscular thighs enhanced by all of gear still strapped to his body. His kit did leave a lot to the imagination. And god did your mind start to wander as both Soap and Gaz began winding down, settling themselves down to sleep for the night or at least lay somewhere quietly so the Captain didn’t lose any more of his patience and kick someone out or force them to pay for their own room. Not nearly tired enough with all of the questions and thoughts about Ghost now floating through your mind, you didn’t care the least bit about laying down or pretending not to care about the fact of the matter and headed out of the hotel room after the Lieutenant as Soap turned out the final lamp in the corner of the room.

The air was a bit cold outside without your jacket, breath materializing in front of you in light wisps of fog with every exhale as you looked down both ends of the hallway hoping to see some sign of where Ghost might’ve gone to. Down on the far left side, a larger cloud of smoke blew past the breezeway entrance and you knew right away that Ghost would be at the end of it. And when your eyes peeked around the corner, you weren’t the least bit surprised to see him with a shoulder resting up against the wall; his back to you with enough of his mask pulled up so that he could smoke a cigarette. The sweet vanilla and cherry smell hit you like a wall, reminding you that Ghost preferred rolling his own cigarettes and used pipe tobacco instead of buying packs of anything else.

Leaves no trace behind… He’d explained without prompting one night after noticing that you’d been watching him.

“Followin’ me now?” His voice heavy with smoke and unhindered by his mask landed directly on you, not even needing to turn around to know you were the one tailing after him.

“Couldn’t let you freeze to death alone.” You reply with a little smile, taking it as your chance to go ahead and walk -slowly- over to him giving him the privacy to smoke without needing to fuss with keeping his face covered.

By standing just at his back leaning against the wall, he knew right where you were, and it put the weight of conversation on him for the moment. He gave you a gruff sort of sound and took another drag off his cigarette before turning just far enough to offer it to you. You take it from his gloved fingers carefully, licking your lips a little in slight nervousness. This wasn’t the first time he’d offered you a hit, but it was the first time you’d ever actually taken him up on it. Seeing the damp rolling paper on the end made you shiver a little; Hopefully, the cold weather would be a good enough excuse to keep him from recognizing your sudden anxiety around him. Wrapping your lips around it and inhaling, you’re a little more than guilty for noticing the taste of Ghost instead of the vanilla and cherry. With a quick glance to your side, you saw his mask was pulled back down over his mouth and his dark eyes were focused right on you as you blew the smoke out of your mouth and back in through your nose. Attempting to hand it back, he just shakes his head.

“You didn’t come out here to be cold,” He finally broke the silence. “What’d you really want from me?”

No matter how long you spent around Ghost, you never got used to just how miserably direct Ghost could be. Like nothing was truly surprising to him or worth being the least bit delicate over. Even if it concerned someone -like yourself- at least attempting to be a little more discretionary. Yet you sighed and took another drag before tossing the rest of it down on the concrete, putting out the ember with the toe of your boot.

“Were you lying earlier?” Your question falls a little short of confident, giving Ghost the impression right away that you were nervous. For a split second, you thought you saw the phantom of a smile under the cover of his mask before it was quickly hidden back under late-night shadow and white paint. Ghost put his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and gave a sigh, making more fog swirl around and through the woven material around his mouth. Another thought of what his mouth looked like flashed through your failing mind.

“Why would it matter?”

You licked at your bottom lip, trying to figure out a way to word this without sounding desperate or downright shameless in front of your commanding officer… you shouldn't be thinking about doing this in the first place. So many more bad outcomes could come of this than the one good one. Even then, it was risky. Leaving you a bit dazed and staring at Ghost.

“Asked you a question. I’m expectin’ an answer.” He pressed forward, a slight swagger in his hips as he got closer to you, resting a hand on the wall and tilting his head a little to the side. Damn near mocking you for being so much smaller and easily intimidated. You look down at your boots for a moment, deciding to just put your money where your mouth is and take the hit no matter the outcome.

“If you weren’t lying…” You look up, internally screaming at how heavy his eyes look down on you. “I’d like to try and change your mind.”

A deep chuckle comes from the Lieutenant in response followed by his heavy hand resting on your shoulder, almost totally engulfing it.

“You’re jokin’,” His voice lowered with humor that made you almost shrivel up and die inside. “Why would I let you do that?” You give a frustrated sigh and take a step back away from Ghost. Mentally and physically distancing yourself from the slight Ghost had given you by accident or otherwise.

“Never mind.” You give a short nod and turn on your heel to head back to the hotel room and find somewhere to curl up on the floor or in a bed with someone and try to sleep off your damaged ego.

Yet five steps away from Ghost, you’re stopped short with his arm snaked around your waist tightly and his mouth resting against your ear with a heavy and hot breath fanning against your neck. His palm spreads over your stomach and squeezes almost aggressively at the soft flesh under your shirt. Tall and wide, Ghost yanks your back flush to his chest as a silent threat.

“Don’t fuckin’ walk away from me,” His low growl makes you shiver. “I’m not finished with ya.”

In an instant, you’re spun around and hauled aggressively with your back against the nearest wall with Ghost’s chest holding you from fighting back. His legs limit your ability to try and escape out from under his arms, and while one hand is flat against your chest, the other restricts both your wrists above your head. Breath evacuates your lungs with the sudden shock of your back against the wall, but your eyes are locked on Ghost’s as he glares at you harshly through the wavering mist of his breath in the cold air.

“Now I’ve got you pacified…” His smirk was clear in tone, outright mocking you by pressing those massive thighs tighter against yours. “Let’s continue shall we?” The gloved hand pressed against your heaving chest slides up to grasp firmly at your chin and jerk it up to look him in the eyes.

“Why don’t you be a good little thing and tell me why you think you could change my mind, and maybe… I won’t punish you for talkin’ shit to your superior officer.” He spat loudly, his face less than an inch from yours, eyes flaming with aggression.

“Sorry Lieutenant…” You mutter stiffly through the struggle of his hand against your jaw. “Thought I could do better.” You add a lot weaker, averting your eyes as far from Ghost as you can.

“What was that?” He made dark fun of you, terribly obvious, and downright happy with himself. “Say it again.”

You squirm in his grasp, only to get your wrists slid up higher on the wall and a thigh shoved between your own to lift your feet almost totally off the ground. Toes tapping the ground, Ghost holds you totally of his own power without the slightest effort needed to keep you held right where he wanted you to be.

“Thought I could do better.” You repeat yourself louder, and more clearly, feeling utterly stupid for enduring such pathetic treatment. Only you knew it was your fault for letting such a pipe dream of an idea come to reality by prodding Ghost about his sex life so confidently. The masked man hummed lowly, tilting his head as he inspected your face lighted only by a small sliver of moonlight creeping around the corner of the hallway.

“Better, huh?” Ghost chuckles darkly, this thumb tracing over the bottom curve of your lip carefully. “That’s a lot of confidence for someone so small.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Size has nothing to do with it.”

Ghost barks laughter, grumbling something under his breath before dropping his hand away from your jaw and releasing one of your hands to press against his groin. You can’t miss his meaning from the massive erection pressing back against your hand and twitching impatiently when your Lieutenant squeezes your hand around it tighter. A growl escapes his throat and he looks up at you with almost evil eyes.

“Still think size doesn’t matter, little one?” He questions, one eyebrow raising above the hemline of his mask.

Your mouth falls open in shock. Not only because of the sheer girth of Ghost’s cock pulsing in your hand but realizing that he was actually taking your proposal seriously no matter how aggressive his mockery of you was. It shouldn’t have been so damn surprising when taking into account just how large of a man Ghost is. Surely everything would be proportionate, and his erection was proof of it.

Your face is enough to make Ghost chuckle. “That’s what I thought…”

It’s enough of a dismissal that thaws your speechlessness and throws you right back into the present with enough of the guts to speak up for your own desires.

“I can do it,” You blurt breathlessly, fingers tracing along the curve of Ghost’s dick and earning a lusty growl from him. “I can make it good. I’ll make it fit.” You nod your head feverishly in an attempt to keep your chance open. Ghost’s eyes widen at your desperation and his cock twitches hard in your palm with the sound of your shallow breaths and pleading eyes.

“You want it, huh?” He questions, mask moving like he’s grinning under it.

“Then get on your fuckin’ knees.”

The moment his hands release you, you feel yourself sliding down the wall until your knees make a bruising thud against the concrete floor in front of Ghost. Your hands holding on his thighs without the slightest care that you were standing in the middle of a hotel breezeway where anyone could see you. A weight settled in your lower stomach with the idea of anyone coming out of their room and witnessing such a sight.

“My belt.” Ghost instructs a bit pinched, looking down at you with his chin almost touching his chest.

You’re frantic yet shaking as your hands slide up his thighs and begin pulling his belt loose, hearing that metallic clink as you pull the two sides apart with a watering mouth. No instruction is necessary for you to know where to go next, and as you unbutton his cargo pants, your free hand palms his cock as you pull down just enough of his waistband to expose him but not make him cold. Ghost’s hands help just a little, settling extra material where he prefers it, almost patiently holding up his own hoodie and t-shirt out of your way as you slid your hands under his boxers.

“Fuck…” Ghost mutters quietly, tensing when your fingers wrap around his base and free him from his underwear.

Your thumb smears over his swollen head soft enough to not make him jerk away with sensitivity, and you lick your lips at just how wet his cock already is from sheer anticipation. Hell, you were turned on too, practically dripping in your underwear at the sight of Ghost with nothing but a perfect dick exposed and ready for your mouth. The first lick is a teasing one. Flattening it over his head just because you couldn’t wait to taste him, gathering up his arousal, and making it a point to swallow with your eyes locked right on Ghost’s. You're certain it’s enough to affect him just by the way he grunts and rests both of his hands against the wall behind you to steady himself.

When your lips wrap around his tip and slide down towards his base slowly, you hollow your lips and suck hard. Almost mimicking drinking through a straw with both hands wrapped around his thick base to restrict blood flow, adding to his sensitivity. You feel his feet flex in his boots next to your thighs and another low grunt. It spurs you forward, sinking down further and massaging your tongue on the underside before raising back up to lick at his frenulum and repeating the process with quiet whines each time he’s unable to hold back some sound.

“Shit-” He hisses after no more than a couple of minutes, jerking his hips back away from you and moving your hands out of the way so he could tighten his own fist around his cock with a heaving chest.

He stays like that for a few moments, undoubtedly trying to stave off the pleasure you’d been giving before his eyes meet yours again and they’re downright hungry and raging with fury that you’d brought him so close without any extra fancy moves or those fake moans that porn always showed. With one quick movement, he stepped closer and tilted your head back until it gently rested against the wall behind you, his cock smearing your own spit and his arousal over your open and awaiting mouth.

“You look pretty like this…” He muttered, rubbing his length over your face and tapping it teasingly against your mouth. “You hungry for more?” You’re sticking out your tongue and nodding right away, earning you a tense chuckle and the feeling of Ghost’s dick sliding into your mouth while his hand cushions the back of your head from the wall.

“Let me feed it to ya,” He grunts. “Shove my fat cock in your mouth and fuck your throat..” He adds with a feral sort of sound mixing with an ever-thickening accent.

You moan around his length, feeling your jaw muscles begin to start aching when your nose just barely grazes his pubic bone and his tip touches the back of your throat. He’s thick enough to qualify as the largest you’ve ever experienced, but you’re not the slightest bit concerned about whether he’ll be able to fit. You know he’ll make it fit if nothing else.

And him utterly pounding your throat sounded so hot that you tried pushing further down on his shaft yourself. Eager to feel Ghost as deep in you as possible. Ghost obliges you, and rocks his hips forward slowly, easing his thick head past that ring of pressure at the back of your throat and cursing under his breath when a wet, gurgling sound vibrates around his shaft as you begin swallowing around him.

“Bloody, fuucckk yes…” His groans punch through the quiet air, far louder than he should be risking in such a public space. But he’s only getting started with this experience as your nose presses against his pubic bone, and his hand flattens against the wall.

“So tight… doggin’ me right where anyone can see.”

It’s the thought that had you so eager, and right away you felt just how much it turned Ghost on too. Because the second he said it, he pulled back just a fraction and pushed himself back down your throat, beginning tight and quick thrusts that made your eyes roll back. He kept a furious pace, growling and holding tight to the back of your head until you tapped at the back of his thigh a few times, and he pulled out with a loud grunt, giving you a moment to breathe. You panted, seeing a thick web of spit connecting your mouth and his tip before watching it break and drip down your shirt.

You’re about to tell Ghost… something. But you instantly lose thought of it when he’s bent down with his mask rucked up just far enough to smash his mouth to yours, shoving his tongue in your mouth and practically eating you from the inside out. You can still taste the salty edge of his skin, and it’s almost heady to have his mouth mingling with yours and sharing his arousal between soft moans and heavy breaths. The kiss is long and feverish, but not near long enough before he’s standing back up and stroking his fist up and down his cock right in front of you like an unreal kind of dream somehow coming to life.

“Please.” You mutter a bit hoarse from the rough treatment of your throat, totally unsure of what you really want most. Between his mouth, words, and dick there’s so much more than just one you desired, but at least one of them needed to be delivered to you to attempt satisfaction.

“Open up, little one…” Ghost whispers face re-masked already, and it makes you whine pathetically, having naively believed he’d allow you just one glimpse at the mouth you’d just tasted. “Need to have more of you.” You’re totally happy to resign by leaning your head back against the wall with your tongue wetting your lips in the cold air.

Ghost starts painfully slow, holding your head on both sides of your jaw and teasing his head against your tongue and the textured roof of your mouth; indiscernible words falling from his mouth and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. You would’ve thought it was nothing more than your Lieutenant just taking his pleasure as offered. But the way his thumbs brushed over your cheeks and his fingers would occasionally rub over the stretched muscles in your jaw gave you the feeling that he was well aware of what you were surrendering to him. As well as how thankful he was to have you on your knees, and looking so fucking angelic swallowing and spitting on his dick like a dirty little whore.

“Let me - Wanna…” His rising breaths and steady strokes begin to falter the longer he thrusts inside your mouth, meticulously avoiding forcing himself deeper in disappointment; resulting in your whining and muffled complaints and pleasure. Had his hands not been purposefully holding you back to prolong the session, Ghost probably wouldn’t have lasted this long.

“P-patience…” His stammer made your chest clench in satisfaction. “Don’t - don’t wanna finish in your mouth…”. That breathy comment nearly struck you stiff as concrete.

You couldn’t believe that after this entire ordeal, Ghost was actually trying to end a blowjob without you finishing it the way you honestly believed it should always end. With you swallowing every last fucking drop that the Lieutenant gave you; wearing a goddamn smile bigger than anyone has ever seen. If he hadn’t been lying and head never impressed him, there wasn’t a chance in Hell you were going to let him finish anywhere that wasn’t down your throat. In a split second, you were shaking your head no and pulling back off his cock with a slight gasp.

“No, finish.” It’s the most demanding and certain you’ve sounded all night. “Finish in my mouth, Ghost.”

His eyes say it all.

They’re wide with his pupils blown at impressive dimensions and his thick eyelashes flutter as his shocked expression forces him to blink over and over again to make sense of you. Mouth and chin covered in spit, on your knees, and literally begging him to come in your mouth.

“Goddamn, you’re so fucking filthy…” He mutters aloud, watching intently as you slide back down over him one more time and begin doing what you wanted to from the very beginning.

Bring Ghost to his knees.

It’s a moment before you have him cursing and holding onto the wall with both hands again as you push deeper and deeper until you're teasing the tip of your nose against him yet again. Unwilling to let him pull you off this time or prolong this. Deserving this release was the bare minimum. Not only did you want to provide him ultimate pleasure where no one else had, but you enjoyed every single bit of it. You needed this as much -if not more- than Ghost.

Heavy and twitching in your mouth, Ghost was teetering on the edge of his orgasm with stuttering hips and one hand sliding down to rest on your head. Not pushing this time, just laying at the crown like your movements were too much to feel with only one part of his body. Short pants were cut short by unintelligible words and strained attempts to say what you already knew.

As if giving your final approval of the idea Ghost had found unacceptable, you push him as deep as you could one final time; Hearing his loud shout echo down the breezeway as both of his hands grabbed harshly onto the sides of your head. Pumping stream after stream of his hot release down your throat you moaned deeply, feeling him gently rock his hips against your face as he rode down his high on shaky legs. You gagged a little as he pulled out, feeling your throat begin to burn in an unfamiliar way that had never followed you sharing a moment like this with another man. Only one look at Ghost’s cock right in front of your face was more than enough to reassure you he’d just been the one who gave you enough of a delicious stretch to feel for days to come.

Your eyes met his and a small little shy smile crossed your sore lips, contrasting the absolutely deplorable -and punishable- act you’d ever committed with a superior officer. Wordlessly Ghost tucked himself back into his underwear and neglected to button his pants back up before dropping to a knee right in front of you and pulling up his mask again to brush his lips against yours.

“Want to taste,” He whispered ever-so-softly, hands holding your head gently.

“Need to taste me inside your mouth.” He added, licking your lips before closing the distance between you for a second time. This kiss was still intense. Ghost controlling the pace and just how much dominance you had, which nearly came to zero when he licked into your mouth, groaning shamelessly. He could taste his release coating your mouth as he utterly overwhelmed you with kisses, licks, bites, and more moans that fell like honey on your ears.

You were the first to pull back for a gasp of air you’d gone full minutes without, feeling your own mouth and body beginning to feel a little weak with exhaustion not typical of a well-conditioned soldier like yourself. Your Lieutenant took note right away and rested his head against yours reassuringly, his nose touching yours.

“You’re too cold to be out here like this.” He whispered, pulling your cheek affectionately and wrapping the other arm around you. “Not gonna let you freeze after that.” He chuckled a bit sluggishly, kissing you again long and chaste.

He pulled his mask back down and gave very little effort to pick you up off your knees and into his arms without question or hesitation. Leaving you feeling like a treasured prize he’d won and refused to let out of his sight for more than a moment. Safe and protected, you couldn’t care one bit about the cold nipping through your thin clothes and resting your head against Ghost’s shoulder as he carried you back to the hotel room the 141 had already retired for the night in.

Expertly avoiding Soap and Gaz laying on couch cushions on the floor and covered with extra bedsheets, sliding around Price’s bed without bumping it, all while carrying you Ghost sat you down on the edge of the bed he’d been keen to claim as his own right when you’d arrived. You were nearly asleep just sitting there when he unlaced your boots enough to tug them off, pulled your shirt off over your head, and replaced it with one of his hoodies. Finally, he takes off your pants and nods for you to move up to the top of the bed, acting just as he would normally. But as he climbed into the bed next to you and tugged you back against him tightly, you realized you’d gotten a lot more than you bargained for.

Sure you might’ve changed Ghost’s mind about getting head… but you weren’t finished yet. Because Ghost was curling his arm around your waist and burying his masked face in between your shoulder blades like cuddling with you at night was the usual way of things. His fingers innocently traced the waistband of your underwear, and he radiated body heat that melted away the fringe sensations of cold on your body easily.

“I’ve made a decision,” He whispers very quietly so as not to wake the others. And you wiggle back a little closer to him, nodding your head as a silent acknowledgment for him to go on. Expecting him to say that you did -in fact- change his mind about getting blown.

“You’re mine now.”

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[honestsycrets]

starved | [miguel o'hara x reader]

❛ pairing | new papi!miguel x new mami!reader

❛ type | oneshot: explicit content

❛ summary | peter says he's sex-starved. he isn't. he's just... adjusting to less time with his wife.

❛ tags | breastfeeding miguel, lactation kink, slight pregnancy kink, touch starved, pissy miguel, spanish is not translated, mention of violence, some cursing, f!reader.

❛ sy’s notes | written as per poll request! thank you everyone who voted.

Miguel likes to work.

Or, he thinks he likes to work.

The fate of the multiverse and all that boring ass bullshit. Peter has heard it all, twice, thrice over. What he knows is what he sees. What he sees is an overworked man running through anomaly files, sending out orders, and not spending time where it really mattered.

“Is that who I think it is?” Peter’s annoying ass house slippers flapped over the ground by Miguel’s feet. Peter’s hands rubbed together, sparking little bursts of heat between his palms. “It is! Mireya!”

Mireya, the newest addition to his small family. She was nestled comfortably in the crook of one of Miguel’s muscular arms as if it were the safest place in the entire world, suckling on what was left of a bottle of breastmilk. Miguel turned to place the empty bottle down on his desk. Peter followed, peeping over Miguel’s arm at her. Despite Miguel’s reservations, her bright brown eyes bored Peter with interest. She cooed at him. “Can I hold her? Let me hold her, it’ll be great! Aw look, she has curls.”

“My daughter isn’t your doll.”

“Look how pretty, she’s just like her mami. All sunshine and dimples and--,” Peter reached forward, easing his scrawny hands under her plush little arms and picking her up. Miguel’s hands fell onto his hips, shifting weight from one foot to the other, glancing down at his feet expectantly. “You know, for a new dad, you’re grumpier than usual.”

“Peter.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he bobbed back and forth, spinning in a circle. She giggled the kind of laugh that was all sugar, making Peter grin even harder. “I mean, wasn’t Mireya your idea? Are you-- y’know?”

“Y’know?”

“Sex starved,” Peter whispered like it was a great, terrible secret. As if in this vast space of silence, someone might catch his words and convict him because of them. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes slid against one another, held for a second, then spread open in an annoyed flick. He fluttered his gloved fingers at Peter to hand Mireya over.

“I’m just saying if you need a night alo--”

“I don’t. I’m not sex-starved.”

He waved him off. His eyes fell on his daughter, boring back up at him with those beautiful eyes he had waited so long to see. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, lulling her back into her late-night slumber, cradled against his chest.

Sex starved, he said. What a shocking joke.

His room was no place for a child. It was perpetually dark, dimmed for his sensitive eyes. So, at the end of the day, Miguel had your room to return to. A real home, one with more than a ratty run-down chair and a lifetime of regrets. A home that he couldn't make alone. Miguel pressed past the bedroom door where he found you overcome by sleep. Just like Mireya in his arms.

He turned his gaze down to Mireya once more, her soft and squishy body a vision of peace. Tiny fists balled up over her belly as she slept in her soft velvet onesie. The whole world in his hands: the start of a happy little family. Only right now, it didn’t feel so happy. Those were the cycles, the push and pull of life.

Tonight would prove to be another silent night with his thoughts. His chest swelled with a rush of air, bunching up his shoulders as he moved to the adjoining room to set Mireya into her warm crib. Torn from his warmth, her palms stretched out, ready to wail. Miguel placed his hand along the wooden rail, his stomach flopping into throbbing anxiety in his stomach. She could wake you up. "Shh," he set his finger in her tiny palm. Mireya’s small hands rested listlessly around her head. The wail never came.

“Mi vida,” your sleepy voice fell over his ears, a gentle caress. He longed to hear it from your lips again. “Is she already asleep?”

“Sí--” he glanced over his shoulder, catching just a sight of one of his favourite little slips. Dusty rose with delicate lace details. He studied the edge of the gown, flowing over your thick thighs as you walked. Shock.

“You look beautiful." You looked down at your soft belly, a mincing smile pulling at your lips. He knew you were nervous, the way your hands obscured your plush belly. Mesmerized, his finger fell away from Mireya's soft grip. Peter's words echoed in his mind, a deep annoyance. It made his skin crawl, this growing annoyance in the acknowledgment that he had no sex in weeks, months. He took a step forward.

“I hope she doesn’t sleep through the night. My breasts are full,” Your fingers skimmed the taut skin. The glint of your wedding band invited him forward as if… you should be his tonight. You were his wife-- and though he didn't expect you to give him relief, he missed you. Miguel dipped his head, stroking the sore muscles of his neck.

Are you, y'know, sex-starved?

“When does she ever..." he couldn't help from saying. He grazed his fingertips over the swollen skin of your breasts, glancing from the skin to your deep, shy eyes. His breath thinned, realizing that you were disengaging, too scared to look him in the eye.

“She does, Miggy,” you breathed. His jaw worked, annoyed. “Lately. You’d know if you came home at night.”

If it was lately, he had no knowledge of it. Every lab screen he pulled up, every status report from Lyla, and every silent night in the lab, obsessing over how his little girl was doing-- he missed it. He should be coming in more often, crossing the threshold of work to family life. His hand cupped the underside of your breast. You winced, embarrassment working on your face. You pushed his hand away, likely feeling exposed by his touch on your tender skin.

“Does it hurt?” He leaned down, mingling his smoky, musky scent with your delicate one. He leaned in to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss along your neck, the warm pulse of your skin against his plump lips.

“Miggy, you’ll wake her up.”

Your fingers laced in his before you pulled him out of the room with a click of the door. He settled his hand on the middle of the door, sliding his hand up your waist, the soft fabric crinkling over the movement. He glimpsed a look at your soft panties cupping your round ass. “Miggy, I… I can’t. I’m tired.”

Of course, you were tired-- He underestimated how much work you took on in her care. He willed the wisps of his desire to snuff out. The distant flicker of hope followed promptly after. Maybe, one day, you would want him again. It wasn't today.

“Ya veo,” he suppressed his frustrated growl, wrinkling his forehead. “Another time.”

It wasn't the next day. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.

The anomaly whirled along a cobblestone street, exploding in a cloud of dust and stone. Its many black dipped hands flickered, dulling into little more than a negligible tremor of their limbs. Everyone else noticed the complacency that came with loss of consciousness. Miguel did not.

Miguel sauntered forward, dragged it by its muddy boots out from the crumbly remnants of the wall, and whirled it into another. It wasn't moving. It was done, tired, exhausted. He didn't care, his large hand encompassing its tendril hair and smashing it over the dusty floor. A violent crack, crack, crack of its head scratched his inert need to destroy something, anything, anyone. It fell from his hands with a slump. Miguel spat a bit of blood to the side, his cheek chewed raw under the tension of the moment.

“You need to take Peter up on that offer.”

Miguel stretched his neck one way. Then the other.

“We’ve been over this,” Miguel grumbled, hiking the pummeled body over his shoulder. It gushed blood, streaming into a diluted pink with the downpour of rain. A simple contusion, Miguel said. It was just a contusion. And a concussion. Maybe a gash or two. It would heal if the thing woke up. “I don’t need help.”

“You thrashed it, whatever it was,” Jess said pointedly. Miguel’s finger ran across his watch. The air was stale without an acknowledgment of Miguel’s churning temper, growing into a churning tempest by the passing minute. He stared long and hard through his mask. She drew out the silence as she waited for his response.

“It’s a contusion.”

The portal whirled to life before them in a slurry of vivid color, an unforgiving abyss. Jess slumped her bike with weight on one thigh, hand on her belly. The longer Miguel stared at her, so full and pregnant, the more he was reminded of you. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use-- he saw visages of you everywhere he looked.

“Doesn’t look like any head contusion I’ve seen,” Gwen slid into the portal. His lip curled, annoyed by the obvious objection to what he was saying. If they would let it go-- he could go on about his life, wait for this obsession with his sex life to abate. Wait for you to come back to him.

“You can’t keep taking out your—“

“I am not sex-starved!”

“Convincing.” Jess sped into the portal.

Miguel soothed the stress out of his forehead, opening and closing his palm, a current of energy coursing through his palms. They picked— and they picked— and they picked at him. At some point, he was bound to explode. He only hoped you wouldn't be in his way when it happened. He whipped the anomaly through the portal and followed after.

On the other side of the portal, there was Peter— again. Cooing with his hands on his daughter— again. His dark mask faded away, his suit wicking water off his frame. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he located you beside Jess and Gwen. You nudged its crumpled body with your shoe. He didn’t often feel ashamed of his actions. Usually, they were necessary. Something was wrong, your face pinched and curled in disgust. He felt the string of your disapproval pulling through his arms, a slight, incriminating tremor flickering through his finger. He willed it away.

“What did you do to this poor thing?” you turned to Jess, a click-click-click off your tongue. He’d hardly call it poor. “It’s overkill.”

“Girl, ask your husband,” Jess folded her arms, reclining on her bike.

“Mi Miggy?” you went to him. You leaned over, pecking his cheek with a terribly insulting kiss, tickling his jawline. He swallowed. Blinked. Then frowned and brushed off your fingers, finding the care misplaced. You could care for an anomaly but didn't care to ask him how he felt. What he needed. Your voice wilted that sunshine quality, dropping almost to a whisper. “¿Qué te pasa, Miggy?”

“Nothing.”

“Miguel--"

“I said nothing!” He knelt down, grasping its ankle and dragging it down the long, drab hall that stored a variety of anomalies. A line of blood soaked the floor, swerving after his rumbling steps. You took a step forward, snatching his wrist between your fingers. He whirled around, a tremble on his lips firmed out into an unforgiving glare. You let up the pressure on his wrist, allowing him to spin his hand free. “Déjame en paz! There is nothing shocking wrong!”

Mireya cried. So did you.

The admittance that Peter was right wasn’t one that Miguel was about to make openly.

Although he showed up that night, as you informally requested, the night proceeded awkwardly. There was no talk over dinner, not as he watched you feed his little girl, swaying by the window of the enormous city below. As you gazed into the sea of twinkling lights, Miguel came up behind you. His palms encompassed your slight shoulders, moist against your exposed shoulders. His naked chest grazed your back.

"Are you going to apologize?"

Why should he have to? If anyone listened to what he was saying-- he wouldn't be in this mess. Still, Miguel steeled his face. He placed a mincing kiss on the top of your head. His voice thinned out, barely a feather on his lips.

"I snapped."

"You did a lot more than that. You scared her."

You let him sit with his regret until you fell asleep. He debated returning to the lab or his room to try again tomorrow. But he knew his wife. You were attentive to everything that he did. You might take it as a sign of his disinterest. After minutes turned to hours, he breached the door and slid into your bed when he was sure you were asleep.

When his eyes coursed over your figure, he realized all he missed. It was too long since he felt the warmth of a real kiss. Not the brief pecks on his lips as he rushed out the door to help Jess or Gwen or any other number of spiders demanding his attention. He missed the warmth in your eyes, the way they turn into crescents with a happy smile or jaunty laugh. He longed for that sensation of your fingers combing through his hair, taking your time and curling his fluffy hair behind his ear, eyes trained on his alone in a sea of spiders. That… sensation of being the only one that you wanted.

Mireya was that for you now. He longed for it every time he came into the room, seeing you sway with his child in your arms, cradled against your breast, feeding her into a restful sleep. What he thought was a mere seed of jealousy turned out to be a terrible beast, tendrils of resentment that you can’t see what he needs. He needs you. And it isn’t his beautiful Mireya’s fault, no. It’s his.

Instead, he lay there with his palm wretched around his cock, soaked in the artificial lubricant, throbbing into his hand. He remembered his words that night. A begrudging -- Mami, give me a baby-- and how well you took him. Your body seemed to know what he wanted, swelling with his child after a few weeks. He buckled into his palm, cranking around the base and swirling up to his leaking tip, bubbling with his need. He circled his finger over the head, swiping the fluid away.

“What are you thinking about?”

Miguel paused, sweat crept down his thick throat over his broad chest. He shuddered under the weight of your silken words. His hand coiled around his cock in one more jerk, somehow accepting that he had been caught.

“Are you thinking about me? Or is there someone else?”

"Someone else?" he breathed. His lips dropped into a frown, agitation simmering to a boil. It cooled when you looked at him-- but really looked at him. The bed shifted under your weight, ruffling pillows aside. You hoisted your legs over his body, pushing his cock against your soft vulva and his stomach, breasts pushing into his face. So close that Miguel inhaled the uniquely sweet smell of your milk obscured by thin lace.

“Why would I have anyone else?” he asked, his chest distantly aching. His gaze tracked from one breast to the other. He stole a glimpse at your face, stricken with shyness. The slight pout of your lips, eyes refusing contact. “Do you even want me?”

Undoubtedly yes.

“You don’t come to see me. You don't fuck me. You don't even--"

"You're always tired."

"But you could wake me.”

“Could I? To deny me again?” It hadn’t meant to come out so passive-aggressive, but with the natural inflections in his voice, he knew you could read him like a book.

“Oh, papi," not that soft voice. He might hope again. "I always want you.“

Hmpf. Debatable.

“Even when you’re jerking off in my bed. Or couch.” You slid your pink tongue along your lower lip, guiding your body against his. The wet draw of your juices over his dick drew his sharp scarlet eyes to the sight, knocking your stiff clit with his dick. For a moment, his words failed. He should have known you would watch him.

“Is that why you're so... angry? Because of me?" He made a small noise, barely a huff. You drew his hands to your full breasts, obscured by a thin layer of fabric. This time, he smothered a groan in his chest. How pathetic, he thought, to be moaning from something as simple as your firm breasts back in his hands. What was he-- twelve? "Have I been neglecting you, Miguel O’Hara?”

“Yes-- you've neglected me,” he murmured, dragging the lace underneath each breast, knocked together by the straps of the fabric. He melded your breasts again between his hands, massaging the sore skin. His thumps flickered over your nipples, stiffening them into peaks. With a small pinch to your breasts, milk dribbled over his fingertips.

"I won't do it again," he wondered if you missed his touch by the full, grateful hum of your lips, your palms disappearing into his dark hair. You coursed along his dick again, eliciting another piteous noise of longing from his throat. "I promise."

“Hm," was the only agreement. "What a mess,” he teased, not bothering to look at you. It had the desired effect, your shoulders shyly bunching up, the cute pout of your lips, warmth in your cheeks, quivering eyes. He loved it when you looked so fucking shy, so vulnerable, and all for him. "You're leaking all over my hand."

“I’m-- sorry,” you flushed, “It… happens.”

“Mhm, you're full,” Miguel flicked his pink tongue along your stiff, fat nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a suckle. Sweet milk soothed his tongue. He hungrily drank it up, shifting his other hand back to angle his cock at the entrance of your core. A hand left his thick locks and jerked to his broad shoulder, stabilizing your hips down to sink onto him. Blood welled to the surface with your claws scratching piteously along his sunkissed skin. With a bit of resistance, he slid perfectly into your body, just like he always did. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips against your breast. It was somehow different-- the tug and stretch of his cock-- as he fucked the mother of his child. Maybe it was all in his head. “Shock, you’re gorgeous on my dick.”

“Miggy--”

He shifted to the other breast, his hands nearly stapled on your hips, encouraging you to do the work. Your warm milk slid into his mouth, down his starved throat. The pleasure of knowing he was draining you of your milk was tempered with the ever-present fact that soon, you’d have his spunk in your belly again. Your hips flushed, drawing around in quick circles, flushed with his pelvis. Small waves of pleasure grew in your belly. Your stiff clit glided against his skin, again, and again with the undulations of his hips. You felt pinned between his mouth and dick, restricted in movement, but all his, devoured by his need.

“Come here, mi hermosura,” Miguel released your breast from those lush lips, sliding his tongue along his lips to catch the remnants of your sweet milk. He slid down along the pillows, flushing your chest to his, and propped his legs slightly for a better angle. His muscular arms wound around your back, cock pumping into you with renewed vigor. He knocked against your cervix in this position, holding you fast and tight in his arms. You nestled against his sweaty chest, accepting his thrusts so well.

“Miggy-- I’m not-- on anything.”

“You're breastfeeding, close enough,” he mused in your ear as though it were a joke.

You might have argued with him if you weren’t so blinded by that fantastic juddering of his hips. As it were, pleasure rocked all thoughts of birth control out of your mind. Miggy, an ever-present lover, groaned as he held out through your orgasm milking and soaking his swollen dick in your cum. Not a moment later, Miguel forced a long stroke of his dick inside your cunt, reaching his climax buried deep in your tremoring walls. You squeezed him tight, milking him dry of his orgasm until it all faded into fuzzy pleasure. You sighed as his arms loosened, warm and full of Miguel after so long. His soft dick slipped free, cum oozing onto his thighs, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the mess.

He set a kiss on the top of your head, then your forehead, and eventually snatched your lips in a warm kiss. You could taste the sweetness of your milk on his tongue and flushed. Your head dropped down on his chest, listening for the gentle whining of your daughter. It was silent but for the intermingling of your heaving breaths.

After all the issues: the disappointment, the fighting with Peter and Jess, Miguel couldn’t help but chuckle. All it took was jerking off in your bed. He should have known-- you never did like to be left out on his fun. You were always a jealous lover, even at the threat of his own hand.

“Hm? Why are you laughing?”

“Peter said I was sex-starved."

“Well," you glistened a smile, kissing along his jaw. He huffed. "He wasn't wrong."

[1800-fight-me]

An Experiment in Desire

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: E (EXPLICIT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Explicit sex, takes place in a brothel

Word count: About 2k

Synopsis: You find yourself in a brothel and have an unexpected encounter with the one eyed prince.

Author’s note: So uh... that brothel scene in the last episode really did a number on me,,, this is the filthiest thing I've ever written and I make no apologies thanks @arcielee for the inspo! and also i borrowed this beautiful gif from @aegonx i hope that's okay!!

I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Here's the link to my Aemond Masterlist if you want to check out my other stories! Also my requests are open, please send me some more!!

You weren’t quite sure how you found yourself in this particular predicament. Despite your loud and frequent complaints throughout the night, you had none to voice now. 

It was a night out with your friends to celebrate the impending marriage of the loudest of your friend group to the baker’s boy. It was a good match, you were happy for her, she liked him well enough and he would be able to provide for her, which was as much as anyone could ask as smallfolk in King’s Landing. 

What you did object to however, was when the group decided that leaving the tavern, after entirely too many rounds of surprisingly strong beer, and heading to a brothel was a good idea. 

She had expressed nerves about her wedding night, and some of the others in your party overruled your protests and decided that bringing her to a brothel so she could ‘at least see what it’s all about’ was the perfect idea. 

You needed no such education, having laid with a man once before, well the word man was a stretch, it was a couple of years ago and he was a boy not much older than you who worked in the stables of the Red Keep. It wasn’t anything to write home about, but it had been sufficient, and your interest in sex had decreased since then. 

Now, you wondered if you had been wrong to not explore other options. The dark rooms were filled with incense, curtains, and moans of ecstacy. Many fornicators weren’t even hidden by curtains, but were completely out in the open for any and all to see. 

Your friends gasped and giggled, watching and whispering as a woman on her knees choked on a man’s cock. You were surprised that she seemed to be enjoying it, and it made you wonder if it was something you would enjoy too. 

A hand slipped into yours and you let your friends tug you along, this time you bit your lip to withhold your gasp as a man licked and feasted on a woman’s cunt. This was something you knew immediately you would enjoy, as a rush of heat filled you and you felt the desire to not just observe anymore, but to participate. 

There was a bit of commotion as a group of loud men filtered into the room and in an effort to get out of their way as the silver haired leader of the group stumbled through yanking back curtains in search for someone- your hand slipped from your friend’s and you were separated from your group. 

One of the men in the group slapped your ass, which startled you so much you stumbled back and pressed yourself against a wall in order to get away from the rowdy intruders. 

Some of the crowd paused their copulation, to look at the disruption and there were whispers. 

“What did you say?” you asked the unclothed woman walking past you. 

“That’s the king,” she replied. Then she looked you up and down, an innuendo in her eyes, and held out a beckoning hand to you. It took all your self control not to slip your hand in hers and follow her anywhere. 

Instead you politely declined with a small shake of your head, and she shrugged and continued on. You stuck to your post guarding the wall, and wondered where your friends had drifted off to. 

You decided you should wander into one of the adjoining rooms to find them, when a man stomped out of the enclosed curtained area the king and his man had gone into. 

The man was completely nude, that was the first thing you noticed. It was difficult not to notice. He was difficult not to notice. He looked like a carved statue, long hard planes of muscle everywhere on his tall form. Long flowing silver hair and an eye of sapphire also caught your eye.

You heard him mutter something to the king, “One whore is as good as another.” The king laughed, but Prince Aemond seemed to shake with anger. 

His presence was intoxicating and you couldn’t look away, especially not when he noticed your attention, and looked directly at you. 

You suddenly forgot how to breathe, how to stand, how to blink as he pinned you within his intense gaze. He stopped his stride as he approached you, standing closer than would ever be considered appropriate for a stranger, and looked you up and down. 

You resisted the urge to squirm as the nude prince dragged his gaze up your body and made you feel laid bare. 

He held a hand out to you, “Come with me.” 

Your pulse jumped and your hand itched to slip into his. 

“My prince, I am not a whore. I am here with friends…” 

He pursed his lips, “Even better. And you appear to be alone. Will you come with me or not?” 

His voice was rough with an unnamed emotion and you wanted to please him, to be the reason for relief from his torment, and you threw all caution to the wind. 

You placed your hand in his, his callouses scraping against your own, and you shivered as he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, as if you were a proper lady and not the bastard daughter of a blacksmith. As if this were a courtship, not a fuck between strangers in a brothel. 

He then slipped his hand across your back and down to your waist and led you out of the large room filled with others. You were quiet, but the same could not be said of the pounding of your heart as a prince of the realm led you to a room with a door. 

“What is your name?” he asked as he shut the door behind him, sealing the two of you alone in a small room with only a desk and chair within it. 

You answered and when he murmured your name back to you, your breath caught in your throat. 

“My Prince,” you breathed out as he took a step towards you. 

“Aemond,” he corrected. 

“Aemond, this is out of character for me, I-“

He raised his brow at you, and you acted rashly, fearing you were losing him, this opportunity, and decided not to talk anymore, and practically threw yourself at him. 

He groaned as his lips met yours, and as he stepped forward to meet you, your bodies collided and he guided you back a few steps until your back hit the wall. 

His tongue was inside your mouth and it was better than any kiss you’d ever had. He moved it with expertise that made your clit throb and you wondered if he would indeed want to use that tongue in other places. 

You realized there was nothing preventing you from touching him, not a single scrap of clothing, and so you let your hands explore. Down from his muscled chest, to his toned abs, lower… 

Aemond gasped in your mouth as your hand grazed his now hardening length. Your hand

continued its journey, cupping his balls and he ripped his lips from yours, a wild look in his eye. Before you could blink, he was ripping the clothes off you, baring you completely. 

You had half a second of feeling insecure as he took a step back and surveyed your naked form, before the prince murmured, “Perfect.” 

His lips and body crashed into you again, your back slamming into the wall, but you didn’t care, didn’t care, didn’t care as his bare skin brushed against yours, as all your curves pressed into his firm muscle, as his cock pressed against you, begging for attention. 

And as you reached a hand between your bodies to once again touch him, his lips pulled from

yours and he looked you in the eyes as his hand followed the same journey as your own. 

He ran a hand from the side of your throat, down your breast, taking a moment to gently squeeze and fondle which had you gasping. His thumb circled your nipple as your hand gripped his hard

cock. 

You both moaned in tandem at the action, and then his hand drifted lower, lower, and lower still, until his large hand cupped your mound and found you soaked beyond belief. 

He groaned as those nimble fingers spread your lips and explored your soaked cunt, quickly finding your clit, just as you rubbed your thumb across the sensitive underside of cock. 

“Fuck,” you panted as you both pleasured one another with your hands. You gripped and pumped his cock as you stared into his lust blown gaze. 

This, you’d never felt so wanted, so attractive, so powerful as when you held a prince

of the realm’s pleasure in your hand. 

His fingers drifted, and with a smirk, he plunged two inside you. You gasped, pleasure unlike

any other as your cunt squeezed him. 

And you could see that release was barreling towards you both, you knew he could tell the same as he batted your hand from him, yanked his hand out of you, and pressed you back against the wall. 

His lips were on you again, consuming you, as he lifted you up, using the leverage of the wall and you followed his lead as you wrapped your legs around his trim waist. 

His tongue tangled with your own as he plunged his cock inside you. 

His impressive length hit you deeper than you’d ever experienced before and you let out a whine. He chuckled, a cocky sound, and gripped the flesh of your hips tightly as he began thrusting in and out. 

You let your head fall back against the wall as you submitted to the waves of pleasure he brought you. 

His lips pressed against your throat, his

tongue and teeth, taking turns to make you whine as he continued to thrust inside you, his tempo hard and punishing and rough and everything you needed. You tried to grind down on him, to meet his thrusts, but he growled and gripped you tighter, pressed you harder against the wall, and you submitted control to him completely and let him use you. 

One hand tangled in his hair, the other gripped any muscle you could find, as his lips traveled down your throat to your breasts. 

As he licked and sucked your nipple, his cock hit the deepest part of you, and his groin ground against your clit, you shattered completely. 

You practically screamed his name as you came harder than you’d ever experienced before. 

This only encouraged him, and his grip on you tightened, you knew you would have bruises tomorrow, and you clenched down his cock as his thrusts increased in pace and intensity. The unholy squelching sound as he pounded inside you was music to your ears, you had no room to be bashful, not as you felt full, deliciously so. 

The frames on the wall shook as he pounded into you, and just as he was about to reach ecstasy, he pulled out of you and put you back on your own two feet. 

You watched as the prince touched himself, that large hand gripping his even larger cock, and your cunt throbbed at the sight. He moaned as his come splattered all across your stomach and breasts. 

You both watched each other, panting, coming down from unbelievable heights. You looked at his beautiful form and thought he was carved by the gods. 

He lifted your head with a finger under your chin, and as you met his gaze once more, and he pressed a swift kiss to your lips. 

“Perhaps we’ll meet again,” he murmured. Then he dropped his hand from your face, turned and left the room. 

You stood there, alone, completely naked, and covered in a royal come and wondered how you found yourself in this situation, but also hoped it could someday be repeated.

[hypnagogics]

before you read ▪︎ loose continuation to THIS

ultra loser!ellie x teasing(slightly sadistic tbh)!reader. reads fine as a standalone!! no fr sex, but still nsfw!!! loads of teasing, ellie's shy and flustered (also gave her glasses and piercings muahahah AND HAPPY TRAIL MENTION YAYYY), reader's a little insistent (but it's ok), mentions of masturbation, discussion of sex, REALLY horny making out at the end lol, heavy petting, they almost do it, tiny abby cameo, buildup AS PER USUAL YALL KNOW THE DRILL, kinda cliffhanger ending (its on purpose HAHA), different layout bc i cheated n looked at the poll oops...NGL TS HAD ME SWEATINGGG WRITING IT LMFAO don't think i have ever written something more horny....ok enjoy! + 2.2k wc

apparently both of you missed the professor's class cancellation email on this fateful day… other students showed up too, but they left quickly after seeing it was empty. ellie stayed to catch up on some work, enjoying the silence and typing away on her laptop, which looked like one of those beefy gaming computers.

covered in stickers and the keys changing color, you thought it was interesting she'd lug that thing around campus with her, instead of opting for something light and sleek. and now that leaves you. you had no other plans for the day, and had already mentally prepared yourself for this class, totally unaware it was canceled.

you realized it wasn't a bad idea to copy ellie, and catch up on some of your own work. however you were more intrigued by her, to be totally honest with yourself.

watching her from a distance, she captivated you. she never seemed to notice your stares, too absorbed in her thoughts. you watched her type, efficiently and quickly, pausing only to push her glasses further up her nose with her slim fingers.

the truth is, she's hot. but no one was hearing you out on that, unfortunately. they'd say to you, “what a loser! i don't think i've ever heard her talk.”

you felt overwhelmed by the urge to strike up a real conversation with her—more that simple greetings or coursework questions— and it was the perfect opportunity to do just that. so you got up, sat yourself down in the empty spot right next to her, and put on the most charming grin you could muster up. she abruptly snapped out of her focus, almost flinching at your presence.

“hey! you're ellie, right? whatcha working on?” you got close to her to see, being met with a bunch of hieroglyphic-looking strings of symbols on the screen. woah, smarty-pants. “um, it's just…some project, i dunno. how d’you know my name?”

she finally looked at you, her eyes round, wider than the ufo saucer stickers on the back of her computer. they were so green, the hazel ring reminded you of a polished agate stone. the scattered freckles on her face were so pretty too, you'd never been close enough to her to really take notice. she nervously scanned your features, blotches of pink blush decorating the apples of her plump cheeks.

she was so cute, and noticing her evident shyness flipped a switch inside you, what if you messed with her a little?

you shrugged at her, “just seen you around. you're so mysterious.” you lilt, manipulating your tone to make it smoother on the ears, even containing hints of seduction if you dared.

she blushed a deeper raspberry shade and looked down at her hands, fidgeting with her rings. she was somehow getting more attractive by the second, your heart felt like it was about to burst.

“am i? never thought of it that way, you're funny.” she mumbles, her antsiness obvious. but you didn't wish to let up so soon, you were having a lot more fun flustering her than you'd ever care to admit, even wanting to see just how far you could push her.

“ooh, i love your rings. where did you get em?” “just…places. why are you asking me so many questions?” you sighed and rolled your eyes, “well, ellie. we both don't have anything else to do, gotta pass the time somehow. i wanna talk with you, is that okay?” she took a deep breath and nodded, visibly relaxing. she stretched out her arm to get rid of the tabs on her computer, close it, and put it in her bag, which is when you got a look at her forearm tattoo.

“also i'm obsessed with your tattoo, you have no idea how cool you are, how are girls not all over you?” you question, taking her wrist in your hands and examining the tattoo's intricate line work, tracing your fingertips over the pigment in her skin.

you heard her breathing change in tempo, quickening ever so slightly. but she didn't move her arm away, and let you continue. she took a second to respond. “um. thanks, i guess. i don't really know what you mean.” her voice cracked when she said the last part, igniting a flame inside you, one that you didn't know existed.

your mind wandered, you began wondering what she sounds like when she whimpers. was she really so starved of human contact you could mold her like putty, just with your fingers and tongue? you wanted to find out so badly, wanted to hear how she'd cry your name out if you fucked her into oblivion. was she a squirter or a creamer? you hoped to the heavens above you'd get to find out someday. maybe it was too much to fantasize like this, considering you formally met just now, but you weren't hurting anyone if it all never left the confines of your mind.

you were lucky you hid your own arousal well, nothing out of the ordinary showed on your face whatsoever. ellie wasn't so lucky—to her dismay, but to your delight—everything played out on her delicate features so clearly, it was nothing short of delectable. 

your eyes bore into hers, the intensity of the eye contact making her shiver, and attempt to break it. “ellie, ellie, ellie, may i call you els?” you didn't wait for an answer, and continued, “do you have a girlfriend?” you pouted your lips at her, feigning sadness as if her response was something you didn't already infer.

she was stuttering now, stumbling over her words, making less and less sense as the conversation went on. she was anxiously bouncing her leg, you could see her chest rising and falling, and her face had turned a lovely crimson color, it was so strong, the flush had spread down her neck and reached her ears, making her piercings stand out. good lord. 

“ahem- no, i don't have a girlfriend. actually never have, shocking i know.” she chuckles at her self-deprecating joke, and while her smile was enough to light up a room, you wanted to slap the doubt out of her. or rather, fuck it out of her. 

you exhaled loudly, “hahh, well isn't that a shame. you're so pretty, i'll just have to snatch you up for myself then.” she swallowed audibly, greatly taken aback. “sorry, what?” “oh, don't you know how much people love losers like you? tsk tsk tsk, you're so much hotter than you realize, i mean it, els. look at you! you've got these piercings, this tattoo, you're smarter than this whole class combined, seriously.” 

she just gaped at you, unable to process what she was hearing. no one had ever talked to her like this, it was only something she read about. and coming from you? this ethereal person who starred in all of her most intimate fantasies? she rubbed her eyes roughly, convinced she was hallucinating. her mouth opened and closed dumbly, her voice box failing to produce any sound. but you were affecting her so much, especially because she lusted after you to an extent she could only take to the grave.

flashes of her midnight escapades flickered in her mind, of her shoving her hand down her pants like an animal in heat, orgasming so intensely she'd black out, abusing her hole with nothing but images of you playing in her mind, and your name on her tongue. her cheeks burned with the embarrassment of her wild actions, and she shook her head to clear the thoughts away. 

you groaned and leaned back in your own seat, exclaiming, “god i'm so bored. and pent up, fuck. it's been so long since i had sex…” that was true. in any other situation you'd never say something like that aloud, but because you were alone with the clueless idiot you wanted so carnally, you let it slip. 

“...maybe you should take care of that.” you heard her cough out, her voice coming out strangled. “i could. but that's boring.” you opened your eyes again and smirked devilishly her way, poor girl looked like she was about to go on a trip with the ferryman. 

you grabbed her hand, examining it some more, commenting, “you play guitar, don't you? guitarists are very good with their hands, i will say.” you played with her hand, pressing it into a fist, then extending her middle and ring finger. gosh, what's gotten into you? “i bet you're sooo good.” 

you've never seen a person look more flustered than she did right now in this moment. her voice was impossibly quiet, barely above a whisper, “cut it out.” “okay, fine.”

some beats of silence passed, but a thought crossed your mind. if she really hated this interaction that much, she could have got up and left eons ago, yet she stayed here and endured it all. hmm. you blurted out, “els, have you kissed anyone before?” 

and again she stayed silent, even after you waited patiently for an answer. she kept looking away, her jaw tense. 

you decided to quit the teasing just for a moment, and speak to her gently, genuinely. you shifted to sit a little closer to her and asked, “do you want to?” her gaze locked onto your mouth, she licked her lips, then muttered, “if you're really offering and not just fucking with me, sure-” 

your patience broke and you didn't wait for her to finish her sentence before swiftly leaning forward and connecting your lips with hers, relishing the tiny gasp she made as soon as you did it. she tasted like a dream.

after a split second she kissed you back, it was inexperienced and clumsy, fueled by adrenaline, but she got into a rhythm soon enough. you took the lead and deepened the kiss, absent-mindedly tugging on her bottom lip with your teeth, coaxing eager whimpers out of her, pure music to your ears.

you succumbed to the sensations and increased the pace, your tongue dancing against hers. you felt her hands fumble by your waist, and she pulled you closer to her. your hands clawed at her chest, the beautiful symphony of panting, the wet smacking of your lips colliding, and her uncontrolled moans filled the empty room.

she gripped your waist so tightly, fingertips surely leaving small marks in their wake, you couldn't wait to find them later, and you shamelessly felt up her chest, your thumbs finding her nipples—perky, hard, and poking out through her thin shirt. you caressed and rubbed and squeezed, feeling her jolt under your magical touch.

she was fully whining now. spilling needy, high-pitched sounds, this was better than you could've ever imagined. neither one of you breaking the kiss for even a second, your hand trailed lower and landed on her stomach, slipping under the bottom of her shirt. you felt her defined abs tensing, and the whisper of a happy trail—now it was your turn to moan.

she got even louder and her kisses got sloppier, and you were about to venture inside her waistband before a sudden sound startled you both. 

your phone vibrated aggressively, and with great effort you separated yourself from ellie, long strings of spit connecting you to her still.

she whimpered from the loss of contact, chasing your lips, then huffing and quietly groaning while you took out your phone, her hands not letting go of your waist. when you checked it, it was a message from your friend, abby, just saying: URGENT. COME HERE NOW. ASAP.

fuck her. fuck her and her timing, was all you could think. really, now? you wanted to kill her.

trying to slow your breathing and racing heart, you explained apologetically, “ugh, it's urgent. im so, so sorry ellie, i gotta go.” she stared at you, speechless, but nodded meekly, reluctantly retracting her arms. you didn't want to leave, and stayed gazing at her for a little longer, and brushed a loose strand of soft hair out of her face. what a cutie, she looked all disheveled and dazed. you were about to look for a paper to scribble down your number to keep in touch, until your phone buzzed again, and started ringing with abby's repeated attempts to get ahold of you. couldn't she wait a minute?

you gave ellie one last devastated look, getting up and rushing out of the classroom before abby called you another seventeen times. 

ellie was left in the classroom, reeling from the encounter and what it had turned into. she was utterly bewildered at the events that transpired, her blood rushing in her ears, mind spinning, lips still puffy, glasses fogged over, hands trembling, and of course a sticky, uncomfortable damp spot in her boxers. she leaned forward to rest her head on the desk in front of her on top of crossed arms, to take a moment to cool down before escaping back to her place. 

“holy shit.” 

im horny🧍‍♂️just like ellie after that. as soon as she got home, u best believe she came so hard she saw literal angels and deities LMFAOO (this is my favorite thing ive ever written gawdDAYUM)

yall who wanted more, hope this suffices as a continuation! @stonerzdaze420692 @womenlvrrr